Such Great Heights - Sydney Logan Page 0,56
such an ugly word. But it’s not. Not when it’s the best thing for everyone involved.
“So, ninety days from the day we sign the papers, right?”
“For the divorce to be final?” Marcus asks. “Yes. Three more months.”
With newfound determination, I grab the petition and my briefcase. Ninety days sounds like a long time, but when you’ve been waiting for almost nine months, ninety days doesn’t sound all that bad.
Finally, there’s a light at the end of this very long tunnel.
“I miss you.”
Olivia’s soft laugh fills the air as I drive down Natasha’s street.
“Is that why you’re breaking the law by calling me on your cell?”
“I’m not breaking any laws. I’m handsfree. And stop changing the subject.”
She laughs again. “Fine. I miss you, too. You shouldn’t have let me sleep in.”
“You needed the rest. Besides, I like taking him to school.”
“He likes it, too.”
“But I miss you. And I haven’t kissed you today. That’s entirely unacceptable.”
“Probably for the best,” she says softly. “It’s hard to form a coherent thought when you’re kissing me. If you’d unleashed those kisses when you proposed, we’d probably be in Vegas by now.”
Now she tells me.
“Jackson, are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
“It was her idea, sweetheart.”
“I know, but . . . what if she didn’t mean it.”
As I pull into the driveway, I gaze darkly at the million-dollar mansion. One thing’s for certain about Natasha. She always gets what she wants—one way or another.
“I’m here. We’re about to find out.”
“And we’re going to help her and her baby, right?”
“We’re going to try.”
“I hope she listens. Good luck.”
I promise to call as soon as I’m back in the car. Grabbing my briefcase, I head to the front door and ring the bell. I’m surprised when Natasha quickly opens it.
“Oh. I expected a messenger. Or Marcus.”
Olivia had warned me, but I’m still unprepared for the black eye and bruised cheek.
I take a deep breath.
“Special circumstances. May I come in?”
Natasha steps back and waves me inside. The house is immaculate, of course. Like a museum. Like my house . . . before Olivia came into our lives.
“Can I get you a drink?” she offers.
“No, thank you. I won’t take much of your time.”
She nods and motions toward the sofa. We sit down as I unsnap my briefcase and pull out the petition. I clear my throat and hand it to her.
“Last night, you told Olivia that you want to terminate your parental rights. That’s why I’m here. This is a TPR . . . a Termination of Parental Rights form.”
Natasha takes the petition and skims the page.
“You certainly move fast, don’t you?”
“This was your idea, Natasha.”
“I know, sorry. Do you have a pen?”
I shake my head. “No. I absolutely insist you have your attorney look it over.”
“Why? We both know this is the best thing for Ryder.”
I can’t argue with that. Still, I insist she consult with her attorney before signing it. With a heavy sigh, she begrudgingly agrees. We then talk about the divorce, and how things should move quickly now that she’s no longer contesting it.
“I just want to be done,” Natasha says. “And I know you do, too.”
“I do. Thank you.”
We sit in an uneasy silence for a while, and I watch with fascination as she places her left hand on her flat stomach. I’m not sure if she’s just showing off the rock on her finger or if she’s instinctively protective of her unborn baby. Despite the tension in the room, I smile, remembering how beautiful she was when she was pregnant with Ryder. I also remember the horrible bouts of morning sickness, that somehow turned into afternoon and midnight sickness. Who knew those were the best times of our marriage?
“How are you, Natasha?”
She seems surprised by the question.
“I’m fine, Jackson. Just fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She sighs heavily. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Listen, Tash—”
“No, you listen. I’m fine.” She smiles sadly. “You know how I am, Jackson. I’m opinionated and mouthy, and I pout when I don’t get my way.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to hit you.”
“David cares for me. He’s teaching me limits. It’s good for me, really.”
I gaze at her face, trying desperately to see the strong-willed girl I’d known since high school. Where is she?
“What about your baby, Tash. If you’re not worried about yourself, what about your child?”
“David would never hurt our child.”
“He hurts his child every time he hits you. Let me help you, Tash. You can press charges. I can help you find a place