Page 30 of Atlas
We fall silent and then my office phone shrills, and I glance back at it like it’s about to explode. “I should get that,” I utter, rushing to grab it. If anything, it gives me a chance to regain my nerve.
It’s routine. A client follow-up. I jot down notes on a Post-it while nodding and humming politely.
When I return to the reception desk, Atlas is looking down at some paperwork on top of Tessa’s filing pile.
“Did you need something else?” I ask. He’s so very still which sets alarm bells ringing. “Atlas?”
He holds up a sheet of paper, it’s white, official, and instantly recognisable.
My stomach lurches.
The court letterhead is glaring at me, mocking me with its bold, black font and fancy logo.
I snatch it from him, my heart pounding. “That stuff is private,” I spit, holding it to my chest.
“What is it?” he asks, his voice low.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “It’s just work.”
“Anita.”
I squeeze the document tight, hating how my fingers tremble. “It’s a review hearing. For custody.”
Atlas exhales slowly, like someone just punched the breath out of him. “But your name is at the top.”
“Yes.”
“So, that means Leo Carpenter is—”
“My son,” I snap, “yes.”
“And you don’t have custody.”
I shake my head, not quite meeting his eyes. “I haven’t for a long time.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand over his jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not relevant to us.”
“The hell it’s not.”
My voice cracks, the pain spilling out. “I told you I couldn’t give you more, Atlas. You wanted reasons, well, there’s your fucking reason.”
“You’ve got a fucking kid,” he utters like he can’t quite believe it.
“You should go.”
“Not until you explain,” he says firmly.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I yell. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? We’ve been sleeping together for over a year, and I knew nothing about this. Do you see him?”
“When Damien allows it.”
“Allows it?” he repeats, his expression still full of confusion.
“He’s . . . difficult. The situation is messy and complicated.”
