“Dad, I love you. Love you to the moon. Wouldn’t want another father except you. Made sure everything I did in my life I did to make you proud.” I trail off. “But I can think on what you said until the cows come home, and it’ll be the same answer.” I exhale. “I’m sorry.”
“Call me later, let me know how things go at the lawyer’s,” he says, his voice filled with sadness.
“I will,” I tell him and I hang up the phone.
The minute I do, I see two texts have come in while I was on the phone; the first one was from Josephine.
Josephine:
I’ll see you later, at one. Do you want to have coffee after?
I think about answering her “fuck no” but if the kids see it then it’ll look bad on me, so instead I ignore it.
The next text is a thread I have going with Jaxon and Kirby. The two of them have been the saving grace in all of this. They have messaged me every single day since it happened, making sure I was okay. I’ve even been added to the off-ice workouts they do. I’m in the best shape of my life, but that’s because I’m always in the gym, trying not to think of the clusterfuck my life has become.
Jaxon:
Back to work tomorrow, boys, bring your A game.
Kirby:
The A game is always brought.
Me:
I’ll send you a couple of plays you fucked up this summer.
Kirby:
Go fuck yourself.
I can’t help but laugh at his last parting line. I toss the phone to the side and then get up and get my ass in gear. “Hopefully, this is the last time we have to do this mediation bullshit.”
three
Knox
I pull up to the mediation appointment and park my SUV far away from the door. Not wanting to be close and taking the chance of Josephine parking next to me. I get out and put my phone in my back pocket, running my hands through my hair as I walk to the door and pull it open, the cold air hitting me right away.
I bypass the security at the desk, who nods at me, before walking to the elevator and, of course, I see Josephine standing there. She looks over at me and a smile fills her face. I see she’s changed from the skirt she had on before. She’s more formal now, with a black skirt that goes to her knees and a black silk tank top tucked in. “Knox,” she says with a smile.
“I’m going to take the stairs.” I turn around, not bothering to look back when she calls my name again. I would rather gouge my eyeballs with a branding iron than get in the elevator with her. This is the second mediation appointment and even with the first one, when we walked out, I opted to take the stairs instead of getting in the elevator with her. I push open the door to the stairs and start taking them two at a time, all the way to the eighth floor.
Pulling the door open, I step out at the same time she gets off the elevator. “Was that really necessary?” she huffs as she glares at me.
“Um, yeah, pretty much.” I walk past her to the receptionist who is just watching us, pretending not to notice the tension. I’m sure she’s seen her share of drama over the years. “Hi, we,” I motion over my shoulder at Josephine, “have an appointment at one.”
“Follow me, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.” She pushes away from the desk and turns to walk away from us. I follow her down the hallway to the end, where we were last time. The door is open and I step in, taking in the large conference table, three chairs on one side and three chairs on the other. I walk to the last chair and pull it out and see Josephine come to the chair beside me. I wait for her to sit down before walking around to the other side of the table and pull out a chair that isn’t facing her.
“Seriously?” she snaps at me.
“I don’t know what part you don’t understand, or how many times I can say this to you for it to finally sink in.” I put my hands on my stomach. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you.” I look around the room at the white walls and think I’d rather watch paint dry than be in this room with her.
“You can’t avoid me forever,” she states, trying to get me to talk to her. So instead, I look out of the window. “You’re acting like a child.”
I exhale deeply and then put my head back and close my eyes, I only open them when I hear someone walk in. “Sorry for the wait.” The same mediator from last time comes in, a folder in his hand. He looks at us sitting across from each other and he stands there, not wanting to take sides, so he pulls a chair away from my side and sits at the head of the table. “Okay.” He opens the folder. “So we were going to come back to some things you are both looking for before going to the lawyer with your demands.” He looks up at me. “What did you come with?” he asks me first.
“Like I said in the last meeting, she can have the house and everything in it.” I look at him, not her. “It’s paid for, so there is no mortgage on it, but she has to maintain it from here on out.” My legs start to move up and down. “We share the kids fifty-fifty.” He nods his head. “And we go about figuring out how much in alimony I need to pay her. We had a prenup, so I don’t even know why we are here, to be honest. She needs to get a job.”
