Page 13 of Bonus Daddy
I gave in and hugged him. For the second time this week, I’d hugged a client.
He patted my cheek affectionately. “I mean it. Bring her to the owner’s box. You know there are always seats for you.”
Chapter 5
Jess
“You sound tired.”
“I am tired,” I replied quietly. Our apartment was tiny, with thin walls, and I didn’t want to wake the girls.
Greta had conked out early, and Kit had been worried about a math test, so after an intense study session, she willingly turned in before her usual ten-p.m. bedtime.
I’d just checked on them and was getting supplies together so I could paint my toenails when my phone rang.
My brother Josh wasn’t much of a talker, so my heart leaped into my throat when his name appeared on the screen, and instantly, every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind. Thankfully, he was just checking in.
“I’ve got a new lawyer,” I admitted. “And I’m feeling good.”
“What did they say about the relocation order? Is it doable?” I could almost picture him pacing around the farmhouse, his evening cup of tea in a mug one of us had painted in art class in 1996. Though he was a thirty-five-year-old Stanford MBA graduate, he lived like a Victorian recluse on the farm.
The tightness in my chest I’d been breathing through all day reappeared. “I hope he can. He’s supposed to be the best.”
Josh grunted in response. During the divorce proceedings, he’dpushed me to fight harder. More than once, his frustration had slipped through, despite how adamantly he supported me. But in the end, it was just money. My kids were all that mattered, and we weren’t going to starve. I’d finished my master’s and had gotten a decent job. And day by day, things were getting better.
After years of doubting myself—mostly because Kenneth constantly told me I was useless, dumb, and silly—I was making it on my own.
But I missed Josh, Jenn, and Jas. I missed Maplewood and my nephews. The tug to return home, to my roots, grew stronger every day. Sure, staying in Jersey wouldn’t be the end of the world, but my girls deserved an epic childhood. Family and community and hikes and festivals. Picking wildflowers and tapping trees. Memories and tradition and vacations.
They deserved so much more than scraping by while living above a yoga studio in Jersey City.
I should ask about the farm. Get the local town gossip. But for some reason, my mouth kept moving.
“It’s so funny, really. The lawyer is actually Brian Machon.”
He was silent for a heartbeat, the only sound his footsteps on the hardwood floors. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
My stomach sank. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I shouldn’t have opened this door. But there was a niggling feeling inside me that told me not to keep this from him.
“I dated him, back in college. Weird, right?”
He inhaled sharply. “Is thistheBrian? The serious boyfriend? The one you brought home to the farm?”
My heart stumbled over itself. “Yes.”
“I don’t remember much about him, but I remember how obsessed you were.”
“You were in high school, so I’m sure you had other stuff on your mind.”
“This is not a good idea,” he said, his tone firm. “Ethically or?—”
“Yes, it is. It’s fine,” I interrupted. “We dated twentyyears ago. I’ve lived a whole lifetime since then. And he’s one of the best family law attorneys in the state. He’s my best shot at winning this.”
“Is it weird?”
“No,” I lied. In fact, it was extremely weird. Though surreal was a better way to describe the situation. He was nice. Smart and competent. Professional.
He literally possessed every quality I’d want in a lawyer.
