anything I miss, it would be her. She’s also discreet.
My mother needs to hear the news directly from me. Once I land, I text Leyla. This is going to be a long and somehow painful conversation. Since I met her, I avoided telling her about my past. It didn’t seem important that she learned about it.
Nothing seemed important, but us.
We lived in a fantasy—one of those crazy fairy tales she likes to make up where everyone lived happily. Everything was fine until I came out of that stupid trance where I confused the world she created for us with my reality.
It was like being inside a bubble where I pretended no one else existed or mattered but her and the kids.
I have to confess that there were times when I wish life could be as simple as just the two of us building a future. That’s an impossible dream. Eventually, I grew out of the fantasy. Now, I have to be firm with her and make her sign the divorce papers.
It’s going to be a hell of a miracle to convince her to do it. How do I make her understand that the last thing she needs is to get involved with my crazy family? The Bryants are bad, but wait until she has to deal with the Aldridge side.
Pierce: Where are you?
Leyla: Just finished working.
Pierce: We need to talk. Can we meet at your place in thirty minutes?
Leyla: You are back so soon, or did you decide to skip the funeral too?
I growl because she knows me too well. I wish I had skipped it. Maybe that would have pushed the thirty-day deadline. Finding Blaire pushed it a couple of weeks, didn’t it? I have to review that part of the will. The dates didn’t make sense. Does it matter?
I can’t focus on something that won’t help me revoke the will. William was thorough. I can’t just change it because it was poorly drafted. Challenging or contesting it might take longer than thirty days, depending on where I should challenge it. It was read in Oregon but probated in New York, the Monday after our father died. I dictate a message to Nyx to see if we can push the dates based on how large my father’s estate is.
We can probably win another month, and by then I should be able to find something.
Pierce: The funeral was fine, but afterward, the will was read, and everything is fucked up. I have to find a way to fix it. That’s also why we have to talk.
Leyla: You don’t want me to keep Daddy’s money after we divorce?
Pierce: Focus, Ley. A lot is happening. At least listen to your part of his testament.
Leyla: I’m a part of it?
Pierce: Yes, which is why I need to sit down and talk to you immediately.
Leyla: Fine. Where do you want to meet?
Pierce: Your apartment in thirty minutes?
Leyla: No, we need a public place.
I laugh because I know what she’s doing, and I want to remind her about all those times when we had sex in public places. I don’t. Instead, I agree to meet her at the Denver Cat Company, one of her favorite cafés. It’s the only place where she can be around cats outside of work.
Buster wouldn’t let her own a cat. He’s not a fan, which is sad because we could’ve used a feline in the family.
When I arrive, Leyla is already there petting a tabby.
“Making new friends?” I ask.
She smiles and nods. “Always.” Then points toward the mugs. “I got you hot chocolate.”
I wonder if she’s civil because my father died or because she poisoned my drink. After we separated, I learned something new about my wife. She can be awful when she’s mad. She’s been pissed at me for almost a year. However, she stopped after I told her my father was sick. There might be an unspoken truce between us. I hope it lasts long enough to put an end to our relationship.
“Thank you,” I answer, taking a deep breath. “Listen, I know you said you’d sign the divorce on your own time.”
When she turns to look at me, and her face turns red, I know I said the wrong thing.
“I knew it,” she says. Her voice isn’t loud, but the tone is sharp. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ll do it at my own pace. If you want to force it, well…that’s up to you.”
“Listen, Ley, this is a clusterfuck, and I’m trying to save you