Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“You booked a vacation over my weekend?” My voice quivers with frustration.
“Yeah, it was the only time Jessica could take off from work. I forgot to call you and see if we could switch weekends. You can have the following weekend. I thought you’d be okay with it because it’s a four-day weekend, so you can have him an extra day. Like a bonus day.”
“Okay, I can move some things around.” I feel defeated. “Next time, talk to me before you make plans. I don’t care that Jessica can’t get the time off work.” I despise Jessica and how she’s slowly trying to become my son’s new mom.
“Will do.” Christopher turns away with the same smug expression, ending our conversation.
I blow a kiss to Nate, who still stares at me from the window. For him, I put on a happy face even though I’m slowly dying inside. He smiles back, his carefree attitude trying to understand the situation. He’s too young to grasp the complexities, and his innocence makes the whole ordeal even more heartbreaking.
As I walk back to my car, I can feel the weight of the neighborhood’s judgmental stares. I’ve been fighting so hard for my son, but every setback feels like a punch to the gut. The battle is far from over, but right now, it’s hard to see any light at the end of this dark tunnel.
I slide into my worn-out Jetta and the engine takes a minute to rev, but it finally comes alive. As I pull away from Christopher’s house, the first tear trickles down my face.
It’s met by an onslaught of more tears in its wake.
How is this my life? Why is my son not in the car with me?
The first month after losing custody, I became a stalker, showing up at Christopher’s house, wanting to make sure he was taking care of Nate.
Christopher petitioned the court, requesting a psychiatric evaluation of me. Said I was losing my mind.
The second month, I wallowed in misery and cried myself into more debt than I could afford. Bills piled up and I could barely afford to put food on the table. So, I struggle. I make do. Barely.
And when it’s my turn to have my son every other weekend, I live for those days. It’s the only time I actually feel alive anymore.
Instead of going home, I head across town to talk to my lawyer about how I can help my chances of winning back custody.
With half my money directly to my lawyer, he should come to me. I’m convinced he doesn’t like me very much. I had to beg him to take my case because no one else would. Once they find out who my ex is, they turn me away. No one wants to go against the juggernaut of a lawyer that Christopher Matthews is.
I can’t believe I ever thought I loved him. Looking back, I realize how misguided I was by his charm.
I zone out while I drive, thinking about my mistakes. How Christopher lied to me time and time again. Should I have stayed? Could I have faked the perfect marriage for one second longer?
No, I couldn’t.
I couldn’t take the “love” taps. The betrayal. The lies. The other women. The way he tore down my self-esteem. But, knowing what I do now, I would have stuck it out longer if I could be with my son every day. However, I no longer have that choice. I'll never get a redo. No matter how many times I wish for it.
Beg for it.
Pray for it.
No one up there is listening to me.
I pull into my lawyer’s office complex and throw my car into park. Once I’m in Jack Stead’s office, his receptionist, Dora, gives me a fake smile.
She doesn’t like me either.
Let’s just say, I visit a lot.
But I always feel like there’s more I can do. I’ll never give up.
“I’ll let him know you’re here. He’s just finishing up a call.”
“Thank you.” I cross to the waiting area and take a seat in one of the club chairs. Christopher once told me that the color combination in his office was meant to soothe clients, but these moth-gray walls and blue furniture do nothing to calm the riot in my stomach.
After a few minutes, Dora ushers me into Jack’s office.
“Evangelina, welcome.” He leans back in his chair. “What brings you here today?”
“I went by Christopher’s house today.” He frowns. “I know what you’re thinking. I went by because Christopher asked me to drop off a bear of Nate’s.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “It’s a special one he’s had since he was born, and it’s usually at my house, but he wanted it because he missed me.”
My lawyer’s dark gaze softens for the first time. “I’m sorry. What happened when you got to Mr. Matthews’ house?”