“Well?” Kim’s grin is pure mischief.
In answer, Danika stands and tugs Kim behind a tree. She can still see the kids walking toward the van. She wraps her arms around Kim, sighing as Kim shuffles closer.
Danika’s not sure who initiates the kiss, but one minute they’re close, the next they’re falling into each other, a deep kiss that grows like a bushfire. Kim’s lips tease Danika’s nerve endings, sparking pathways through her body.
She’s lost. She forgets they’re in a public park, forgets their daughters will no doubt come running back any second clutching ice cream, forgets she and Kim are neck-deep in legal issues that still have the potential to explode in their faces. All she wants is for Kim to keep kissing her.
Kim breaks the kiss, turns her head. “They’re on their way back.” With a final soft kiss to Danika’s lips, she steps away, around the tree.
By the time the girls return, tongues pink and blue from the sprinkles, sticky fingers clutching soggy cones, Danika and Kim are once again facing each other on the bench, as if they’re simply swapping cookie recipes, or whatever the kids assume they do.
As they walk back to their cars and say their goodbyes, Danika touches Kim’s cheek. “See you soon.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kim
Kim sits next to Danika in the reception of Doodson and Lee. She smooths her long skirt over her knees with damp palms. Next to her, Danika flicks through a magazine. Out of the corner of her eye, Kim sees her pause on an article about the Duchess of Sussex’s life in California.
“Is that the article about Meghan joining the fire service? I think she’d look good in high-vis orange.”
Danika looks up. “Er, yes.”
Kim nudges her. “You haven’t read a word of that, have you? Bella’s more likely to join the fireys than the Duchess of Sussex.” She takes Danika’s hand. “It will be okay. We trust Alan. And if we don’t like what he’s come up with, then we negotiate between ourselves with Alan as mediator. That’s what he said.”
Danika worries the hem of her slim skirt with her free hand. “That’s what worries me. What if we can’t agree? What if, despite everything, it’s an unfair split?”
Alan enters reception. “Danika, Kim, it’s good to see you again. Come on through.” If he notices their joined hands, he doesn’t show it.
Kim sits, and her hands twist the cotton of her skirt. She wants to hold Danika’s hand again, but now, in this formalsetting, where they are… What are they? Not opponents, not on opposite sides, but with different approaches to the same outcome. Holding hands would not be appropriate here.
Alan spends a few minutes attempting to put them at their ease, and although he’s warm, empathic, offers coffee, water, and tells them he’s set aside all day for them, and that his assistant has arranged sandwiches for lunch, Kim’s tension doesn’t abate. It’s one thing to think of dividing the money in the abstract, another when it’s actual dollars being shuffled around like a busy day on Wall Street. Worse, too, that the shuffle is in one direction: out of Danika’s pocket into her own.
“Your situation isn’t as uncommon as you may think,” Alan says. “There are other cases where a person has been exposed as having a secret family after their death. What is unusual is that both of you are willing to work together, taking an ethical and fair approach. In most cases like yours, the primary family—that’s you, Danika, by virtue of being first”—Alan flashes an apologetic smile at Kim—“is the one who inherits, unknowing of the second, and the second family challenges the will. In Australia, a de facto partner has as much claim as a legally married one. Had the court known about Kim and Bella at the time of the grant of Letters of Administration, it is likely that they would have divided the estate equally between the two of you, with Camille and Bella receiving nothing, or a minimal amount.
“While unethical, what Chris did isn’t illegal in Australia. As Kim and Chris didn’t legally marry, the court considers it adultery, not bigamy, and adultery isn’t a crime.”
Kim glances at Danika. Her face gives nothing away; she’s concentrating on Alan, a wrinkle between her eyes.
“So our proposed solution is actually the way a court would have gone had it had the information at the time?” Danika asks.
“Most likely, yes. And had you, Danika, not been willing to try the informal approach, then Kim could have contested the will. Although with the estate being settled…”
Kim tunes out. Alan’s rich voice, one used to commanding a courtroom, is compelling, and it’s reassuring to know she is legally in the right taking money from Danika.
But… But…
Her chest buzzes with questions, but what’s overwhelming her is a panicky feeling of how wrong this is. Static fills her head, and although she’s aware Alan is answering a question from Danika, she can’t hear them. Their mouths are moving, but there’s no sound except the white noise pounding in her head, swelling like an incoming tide, then crashing to shore in a burst of static.
She’s taking money from Danika, who will almost certainly have to sell her house.
Alan is shuffling the asset lists from her and Danika on the desk in front of him, and she’s sure he’s winding up the introduction and is about to start talking figures.
The asset lists were easy for her. She just took the templates she used in her work and modified them to suit, but she knows Danika sweated and agonised over hers. Danika’s list is longer. A lot longer. Kim’s seen it—they swapped before sending them to Alan. That was understandable. Danika and Chris were together longer than Kim and Chris. They had a house, not a small apartment. Danika brought less to their relationship than Kim had to hers.
Kim’s fingers shake, and she clenches harder on the material. “Please can you wait one moment? I need water.” She leans across the conference table, picks up the glass jug. Her fingers fumble, nerveless, as if they’re not part of her anymore.
The jug falls from her hand, hits the stone table and falls on its side. There’s a long crack along the base of the jug, and watercascades out, spreading over the table in a sheet, dripping to the floor.
