Page 79 of Bonus Daddy
Iwas sweating through my blazer, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d make my cuticles bleed. Picking at my nails was a terrible habit, one that Kenneth had chided me about for years, but I couldn’t help it.
We might not even get a decision today.
It was just a hearing. The judge would ask questions, and Brian would make arguments. Then we’d wait. According to Lo, we were in good shape. Kenneth had withdrawn his opposition, and we’d filed the best interest evaluation ahead of schedule. Judge Gordon occasionally ruled from the bench, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t choose to issue a written decision instead.
Regardless of what happened today, the process was moving along, and this was the first big milestone.
Living with this uncertainty got harder every day. At this point, I needed an answer. My heart couldn’t live in two separate places, and now that school was out, the need to make plans for our future felt more urgent. The girls were doing well at the day camp I’d enrolled them in, and they still enjoyed spending most afternoons with T.J. and Murphy.
They’d gotten comfortable with Brian’s found family quickly, and that fact made me decidedly uncomfortable.
Since our night together, he’d been a perfect gentleman. Kind and understanding and totally professional.
But I was haunted by memories of our time in Boston.
I’d been the one to insist this couldn’t go further. I’d sworn that I couldn’t let myself fall for him.
But I was a damn liar. I’d already fallen.
Yet the man was as cool as a cucumber, seemingly unaffected by what had transpired, behaving just as he had before he’d told me he wanted me and then rocked my world.
And I couldn’t avoid him. Especially with the hearing coming up. And because the universe hated me, Kit and Greta had decided he was their all-time favorite person. Since the concert, they talked about him nonstop. They had made glittery thank-you cards and baked brownies from a mix. When they’d presented him with them, he had savored each bite as if it was from a Parisian patisserie.
My stomach ached as I considered the choices ahead. Each time I worked out the logistics of my move to Vermont, I felt a tug toward him. To that strange building and the people I now wished I hadn’t fallen for almost as deeply as I’d fallen for Brian.
The ragtag family that had embraced me and my kids and given us a soft place to land during a difficult time.
The thought of leaving them made my nose sting and tears threaten.
Brian looked as cool as ever, his dark blue suit making his eyes pop and his freshly trimmed stubble making me want to lick his neck.
He typed on his laptop while we waited for my case to be called. Every few minutes, he’d glance over at me. His intention was probably to reassure me, but it only made my gut twist more.
All the walls I’d built up, all that hard-earned cynicism, had been demolished by this sharp lawyer with muscled forearms and soulful eyes.
We waited while case after case was called. Divorce had been my first introduction to the legal system. It wasn’t until then that I understood what a snoozefest it could be. TV made it seem fascinating, yetin my experience, it was mostly drudgery, forms, and waiting. Endless waiting.
After another recess, Judge Gordon returned, and the clerk stood and read off the docket sheet. “NJ-5001-4B. Mosely.”
Brian snapped his laptop shut and led me toward the bar. He opened the door and stepped aside so I could walk through the swinging door first.
Once we were seated, the judge riffled through a stack of papers, then peered up at us over his glasses. “I see the father withdrew his opposition to the motion.”
Brian stood, smoothing down his tie. “Yes, your honor. He has declined visitation per the custody order, and my client has full legal and physical custody of the minor children. In addition, the father moved out of state last year. If you refer to exhibit four-A and seven, you will find both the custody orders and the confirmation of the out-of-state move.”
Nodding, he flipped through the big book of exhibits Lo had prepared.
With every second that passed, my muscles locked up tighter as Brian and the Judge talked through the law.
“I see no reason to deny the petition.” He straightened. “We will enter a judgment and issue a written opinion for the record.”
I froze, my breath stalling, as I processed his words.
“Clerk, please enter on the record. The motion to relocate is granted. The petitioner will have one hundred and eighty days to file residency paperwork with the court.”
The gavel sounded, startling me. Heart pounding in my ears, I blinked once, twice, a third time. Was this actually happening? Were we finally free to leave New Jersey?
Beside me, Brian gathered his things. Then he cupped my elbow and guided me to my feet. It wasn’t until we’d exited the courtroom and were in the cavernous hallway that my mind came back online.
