Would she?
She loves Cole. And it’s not like she hates me.
Who the fuck am I kidding?She won’t even go to dinner with me. Like hell is she going to agree to marry me so I canmaybeget custody of Cole.
The judge clears her throat softly, eyes lifting from the stack of papers. “Alright. I’m ready with my decision.”
My spine goes rigid.
“Mr. Grayson,” she says, then glances at Cece, “Mrs. Henderson.Thank you for your patience. The Court has reviewed the petition, the filings, and the information presented. Given the urgency of the situation and the need for immediate care, the Court finds it appropriate to appoint a temporary guardian.”
Shit. Here it comes.
“Temporary guardianship of the minor child, Cole Cranshaw, is hereby granted to the grandmother, Mrs. Henderson.”
My stomach drops straight to the floor, my throat drying so fast I can barely swallow.Fuck.
I knew this was the most likely outcome. I did. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less. My chest still tears open when she says it.
“Additionally,” the judge continues, “the Court will appoint a guardian ad litem to represent the best interests of the minor child pending the final hearing…”
She keeps talking, but I can’t hear any of it. It’s too hard. Stability? Best interests? It all blends together into meaningless noise.
I make the mistake of glancing at Cece, who’s smiling smugly and practically glowing like she’s God’s favorite.
Jerry stands. Thank Christ, someone in this room is still coherent.
“Your Honor,” he says, smooth and respectful, “my client requests court-ordered visitation so that he may continue to be a stable, supportive presence during this transition.”
The judge nods. “What is your request?”
“Unsupervised visitation every other weekend,” Jerry says. “Beginning Friday at five p.m. and concluding Sunday at five p.m., continuing until the final hearing on December fifth.”
The judge turns to Cece’s attorney. “Any objection?”
Cece’s lawyer stands. “Your Honor, we request supervised visitation pending the final hearing, given the instability presented.”
My fists clench tight.
Supervised?
Fuck that.Like I’m some reckless asshole who can’t be trusted alone with him.
Jerry doesn’t hesitate. “There is no evidence warrantingsupervised contact. My client has been a consistent and supportive presence in the child’s life. The minor is comfortable in his care.”
I suck in a sharp breath and hold it.
The judge presses her lips together, eyes moving between both parties. It’s the longest five seconds of my life.
“Very well,” she says finally. “The Court will authorize unsupervised visitation under those terms.”
A long, shaky breath escapes me.
Every other weekend?
That’s it?
I get to see Cole a grand total of six times over the next three months, all while Cece gets him every goddamn day? She gets to be there for him. For everything. Meanwhile, I’ll be trying to woo my ex-girlfriend. Convince her to marry me.
