It sucks driving all the way into the city to Gideon’s place on Billionaire’s Row, but Kendra is cool when we get there. She doesn’t ask what kind of appointment I have, and Pearl doesn’t kick up a fuss when I go to leave. Winnie falls asleep as soon as I transfer her to Kendra’s arms, and Kendra gazes down at her with a wistful, blissed out smile. I hope she gets one of her own soon. I know Gideon and she have been trying. She deserves someone in her life who will smile back at her.
Meyer stays with the kids, so only Pence is trailing me as I make my way back to the suburbs. I don’t try to shake her, but I don’t make it easy for her, either. If the light is yellow, I speed up, and the Rennard has some serious pep in her step.
I make it to Drake Chambers’s office in good time. He rents space in a picturesque Tudor-style building in Scarsdale. The ground level houses several fancy boutiques—a candle shop, a music store, a place that apparently only sells French linens. His office is on the third floor.
Irritatingly, as soon as I turn off my engine, Pence pulls into the spot right beside me. There’s no way she’s coming with me to the divorce lawyer.
“Stay here and pay the meter,” I shout to her through her car’s window as I hustle into the building. I’m breaking procedure, but if Pence knew her business, she’d have stuckcloser and gotten out of her car quicker. Schmidt would’ve never let me get ahead of him.
I find the elevator with no problem. I scoped out the place on my phone during the long hours when I laid on my bed in the dark, the children already asleep and Adrian occasionally prowling up or down the hallway outside, disturbing my peace. I don’t know what he’s doing. He’s never been a great sleeper, especially since Winnie’s been born, but usually, once he’s in bed, he stays there.
Drake Chambers is a one-man operation, so he must be really good to afford an office of his own in an affluent town like this. His name is etched on the glass door in old-fashioned letters like he’s a detective in a black and white movie.
“Mrs. Maddox, you found us,” his secretary greets me as soon as I walk in. She looks straight out of an old movie, too. Her black hair is slicked back in a bun, and she’s wearing a vintage red dress with a Peter Pan collar and pearl earrings. “I’m Jules.”
Jules is the one I emailed the prenup to once I unearthed it from my inbox. It felt weird sending it to a stranger, like I was exposing myself, and I wasn’t even sure what exactly I was exposing.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say and shake the hand she offers. She stood as soon as I came in. I’m still not used to how people do that for me even when I’m not with Adrian.
Without her calling, an inner door opens and the man from the billboard strides out, his energy just as big in real life.
He moves with consummate confidence, shaking my hand a second longer than you’d expect, smiling and chatting as he ushers me into his office. “Mrs. Maddox. Nice to meet you. How was the drive? Can we get you something to drink? Coffee, tea, water?”
“Water, please. Thank you, Mr. Chambers.”
“Please, call me Drake,” he says and calls over his shoulder, “Two waters, Jules.”
In no time, my jacket is hanging on a coat tree, and I’m seated in an overstuffed armchair across from his impressive mahogany desk. The surface is free of everything except a sleek laptop and a paperweight with what looks like a real scorpion embedded in the glass.
I sink into the chair—it’s got a lot of give for leather—and wrap my arms around myself. I should’ve kept my jacket. The heavy wood and shelves upon shelves of books make the room look cozy, but I must be sitting under a vent because I’m freezing.
“You’re shivering. Let me fix that,” Drake says, strolling to the thermostat and switching the fan off.
“Thank you. And please call me Cora.” I’m suddenly aware that for the first time in five years, I’m totally alone with a man who isn’t either my husband’s family or his employee. And he’s handsome.
Drake Chambers reminds me of a Ken doll they had at the Wojcik’s, one of my foster homes. He’s got the same light blue dress shirt and suspenders, and the same smooth swoop of well-conditioned hair and blinding bright teeth. His blue eyes even have that twinkle that they gave the doll by painting white dots on his pupils.
The whole effect makes him feel familiar, but it also makes me nervous. Maybe because he’s a lawyer. I don’t care for lawyers in general. They never did me any good.
This is going to be different, though. I’m paying him, and he’s on my side, not the state’s. AndI’mdifferent. I’m Mrs. Maddox now. For the time being, at least.
Jules pokes her head in the door and hands Drake two bottled waters. Drake places mine on the round side table next to my chair before he returns to sit behind his desk.
“Thank you, Jules. Hold my calls,” he says, just like arich businessman on TV.
Is that how Adrian sounds at work? I’ve visited him in his office, but I haven’t spent much time there. I’m more familiar with him as a boss in social situations—at the Christmas parties at fancy uptown social clubs or company picnics at rented estates on Long Island Sound.
Is Delaney his work wife? Does she slip into his office, shut the door, and prop her ass on the corner of his desk, crossing her legs like she’s in a music video from the ’80s?
I hug myself tighter. It doesn’t matter. I’m getting myself out of this, and I’ll never have to think about it again. I am going to erase Adrian Maddox from my life like sidewalk chalk. I’ll set it up so someone like Kendra passes the girls between us, and I’ll conjure up some fantasy like they’re staying with Santa Claus when they’re not with me.
I used to be very, very good at conjuring fantasies. It’s dangerous, but not as dangerous as rawdogging life without my babies would be. Icancontrol the panic I feel when I think about it. I have to. Every time I see Adrian now, my grip on myself erodes, and I can’t let this break me.
Drake finishes sipping his water and sets it down on his desk. The glass clinks against the smooth desktop.
“Mrs. Maddox . . . Cora.” He corrects himself. “May I be blunt?”
His caring smile morphs into a concerned frown, and my stomach knots. I nod.
