Chapter 29

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Aelin woke up to new text messages, most of them from Ryan. Her heart started to pound, her brain still fuzzy from sleep. It was only five in the morning, and she had no idea why her body had woken her up, aside from the fact that her mediation was in a few hours. She rolled over on her pillow and started to read.

She answered Megan's text first, letting her know she'd be dropping Bailey off around nine to make sure she had plenty of time and wouldn't be rushed to get to Jules's office. Megan had technically been invited to the wedding, but she was mostly friends with Rhonda. Since she'd gone to the bachelorette party the night before, she felt like she had paid her dues.

Aelin hesitated before tapping on Ryan's messages, already making up a story in her head of what she would find there. He would be angry. He would ask her why she had refused to respond to him. He would tell her how frustrating it was to lie nearly naked with her for four nights in a row and then have her ghost him the second they got home.

All of it would be fair.

She braced herself and tapped .

Ryan

9:32 p.m.

I'm at this bar for the bachelor party and the girls from the bachelorette just arrived. I think they booked an actual party bus

We have a lot of catching up to do, but I'm not really in the mood to drink. It's only making me sad, and nobody wants Sad Ryan at a bachelor party

When I came to drop Amaya off at your house the other day, I was planning to come up and show you something

Aelin scrolled and looked at the picture he'd sent. It was a picture of his left hand. At first, she didn't understand until she noticed the slight tan line on his third finger.

I stopped wearing my wedding ring. I wanted to tell you that. When you talked about filing for divorce, it made me think about things differently. I'm grateful.

I also wanted to let you know that two of the girls in Jenna's group are completely shit-faced. They've been touchy with everybody here in the bar, but Rhonda's been taking a lot of pictures, and I'm sure some of them are going to end up on Megan's Instagram feed.

If you see a blonde girl with sleepy eyelids and it looks like she's licking my face, she did not get consen t

Ryan

10:15 p.m.

I needed you to see this

Aelin scrolled to the next picture. It was Megan and Rhonda, laughing, about to take a drink out of two very phallic straws. She laughed and scrolled to his next text.

Ryan

12:56 a.m.

I've been thinking about you all day. You don't need to respond to any of these, by the way. But I realized because I hadn't heard from you, I was assuming you didn't want to hear from me, instead of assuming that this week has probably been a bitch.

That's what I hope you'll be tomorrow. I mean, you can be whoever you want. But if I had to choose my version of Aelin, that's what I would choose

Nice Aelin or compassionate Aelin doesn't have any place in that mediation. Don't feel bad about being a shark. It wasn't your fault that he took advantage of you.

Guard your home ice

Tears slipped down Aelin's cheek as she set her phone on the mattress and laid back on the pillow. How had he known? It wasn't that she needed permission going into this meeting, but getting it felt like oxygen. Like she'd been trapped inside a box and someone had finally opened the lid.

It isn't your fault.

She was beginning to believe that, but it had taken so long to get there. How many times had she asked herself the same questions? How had she not seen the red flags? How had she not seen the signs? Why would she have allowed herself to get pregnant after knowing who Clark was—at least partially? Why had she stayed? Why had she allowed Bailey to live in a home like that?

Why, why, why?

Now at least she had language to help herself understand the answers. Her therapist had taught her all the things, but she was still working on allowing her brain and heart to connect. She turned back to her phone and tapped, watching the cursor blink and scrolling through the letters on the miniature keypad. She stared at the screen for a full two minutes before she closed it again.

Every time she thought about texting Ryan, it was the same thing—a complete block. She wanted to open up to him, to tell him what she was feeling. But how could she possibly admit that it was nothing? How could she explain that she felt scoured and bleached out?

She forced herself up out of bed and did yoga on the front porch as the sun rose, then came inside and made breakfast.

____ _

Aelin smoothed down Bailey's braid for the third time. Overhead, the sky was a flat, steely grey, a perfect reflection of the knot twisting in her stomach. Somewhere, the thought of Ryan setting up for Country's wedding floated, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

She pulled out of their neighbourhood and let Bailey stream whatever music she wanted. Traffic was light, and it only took twelve minutes for them to turn onto Megan's street. Her eyes travelled over the rows of well-kept suburban homes. Megan's house was no exception, with its perfectly manicured lawn and tidy garden beds.

She pulled into the driveway, and Megan appeared at the door, a tight smile spreading across her face. Aelin parked the car and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Alright, Bails. You ready?"

Bailey nodded and opened her door. Aelin stepped out, her navy blouse billowing in the morning breeze. She tugged at the hem, straightening the fabric over her tailored pants. They'd been a splurge, but she'd wanted to look professional. Confident. Like a fit mother.

"Don't worry about anything." Megan motioned for Bailey to come up the steps. "We'll have so much fun, you won't even notice your mom is gone."

Aelin's heart ached. Bailey didn't fully understand what was happening that morning, but she knew enough. Aelin knew she must be feeling the stress of everything, but she never talked about it. Clark had conditioned her to be the most anxious when people were quiet.

Aelin gave her a hug. "Bye, love. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Aelin mouthed "Thank you" to Megan and walked back to her car. She started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, her mind already racing ahead to the mediation.

The unknown was the worst part.

Her thoughts spun from one potential trap to another until she pulled into the parking garage near Jules's office. She grabbed her purse and heard her phone buzz.

Aelin pulled it out, and her stomach flipped.

Ryan

9:38a.m.

I just strung 138 peonies to an arbour. My fingers hurt

Remember, no Fun Aelin

Aelin was about to put her phone back in her purse when one last message came through.

She's just for me

Aelin's mouth quirked. She grabbed her things, locked her car, and crossed the street. It turned out, sometimes one did simply walk into Mordor.

She entered the building and greeted the receptionist at the front desk. She wore glasses on a chain and looked like she could silence an entire class with a single glare. Thankfully, Aelin had never gotten on her bad side. She glanced at Aelin and nodded.

The hallway was freshly painted, and Aelin's pants reflected blue on the polished tile. Jules's office was at the end of the hall. The door was cracked open, and Aelin pushed it gently. A wall of legal tomes lined one side of the room, and a large mahogany desk sat beyond two armchairs, perfectly organized. The whole office smelled like money .

Jules stood as she entered, her burgundy suit crisp. "Hey, you're early. I'm glad, because so are they." She stepped around the desk and led her to the conference room.

Aelin's lungs felt like perforated produce bags, but she followed Jules in. The room was more spacious than she expected. A table sat in the centre, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs. The walls were adorned with more framed certificates and a few abstract art pieces that made her feel uncultured.

Clark was already seated at the table, and Aelin's stomach dropped like a rock. He looked up from his phone and smirked. "Good morning, A."

Every word was a weapon.

Aelin clenched her jaw and forced a smile. "Clark." She took a seat across from him, her eyes flicking to the two lawyers flanking him. Both men looked like they'd stepped out of a knockoff GQ magazine. The suits were right, the faces? Not so much. She recognized them from Clark's firm's holiday party a few years ago.

Jules sat next to her, and the air in the room seemed to compress. Aelin's pulse pounded in her ears as she took in the details. Clark's perfectly styled hair, his designer suit that probably cost more than their monthly mortgage. But he was so destitute .

The man on Clark's left cleared his throat. "Thank you for being here this morning. I'd like to start by addressing a few concerns our client has." He didn't wait for anyone to object before continuing. "It's come to our attention that there have been a few violations of the terms of your separation agreement."

Aelin began to sweat.

"I'm going to have to stop you right there, Thomas. We're aware of the allegations, which I'm sure were reported by reliable sources." Jules paused, and the sarcasm in her voice was palpable. "But before we get into all of that, I have to ask?—"

"Jules, if we could just—" The other lawyer, a man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, tried to interject, but Jules held up a hand.

"Martin, I know you have an agenda, and I promise we'll get to it, but I'm just curious. How did your client come by these personal text messages?"

Aelin tensed.

"It was brought to our attention by an anonymous source," Thomas said finally.

Jules nodded. "Right. An anonymous source. And this source, would they have access to our client's personal devices? Perhaps her phone?"

Martin frowned. "How would we know that?"

Jules leaned forward, her eyes locking onto Martin's. "Tampering with someone's personal property is not only unethical, it's illegal. And if that's the source of your information, I'd say we're starting this mediation off on the wrong foot, don't you think?"

Clark didn't look uncomfortable, not in the least. His eyes seemed to shine brighter with every jab exchanged between the lawyers.

Aelin dropped her eyes as the room seemed to close in on her. She focused on the grain of the wood table in front of her, tracing the patterns with her eyes. No Fun Aelin.

Something inside her warmed, and she glanced up.

". . . it demonstrates a lack of financial stability and a failure to provide a safe environment for Bailey. Our client has concerns about your ability to meet your obligations under the terms of the separation agreement." Martin was talking, but she was focused only on Clark.

"Our client has been more than patient, but he's reached a point where he feels it's necessary to take further action. He's prepared to request a reevaluation of the custody agreement, including a proposal for Bailey to switch to a different school where she might be safer."

Yes. The perfect hit. Threaten her with taking Bailey. Tell her she wasn't enough over and over again until she started to believe it, and then . . . Aelin's thoughts snapped into such clarity, she nearly gasped.

Then he would walk away. He'd watch it all burn. He didn't want Bailey, he only wanted her to believe he was taking Bailey.

In that moment, everything clicked.

Aelin nearly laughed out loud. She stared at him across the table, his hands pleasantly clasped, his hair perfectly gelled. He watched her like a hawk circling a rabbit, just waiting for a chance to dig in his talons.

She kept running, scurrying, finding burrows and hiding until she had to pop her head back up. And there he was, always waiting. He would never relent. He would never give up trying to prove that he had the power.

She didn't need to be a bitch to fight Clark. She just needed to be smarter than him.

Aelin took a deep breath, then held up a hand, cutting off Martin mid-sentence. When she opened her mouth, her voice was steady. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. I realized how selfish I've been through this whole process. You're right, Clark. I couldn't afford that house, not without you and the money that you make. I'm sorry I caused you so much pain and made this more difficult than it needed to be."

Aelin imagined herself, that little tawny rabbit in the grass, rolling over and baring her belly. Clark's eyes narrowed. Just a little closer.

"I'm surprised by this, Aelin, pleasantly. Are you saying that we can finally wrap this up?"

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. She didn't have to search far to find them. "I'm saying I'll give you whatever you want, Clark. Bailey is your daughter too, and we both love her so much. I just want what's best for her." A little closer.

By the way Clark's eyes glinted, she knew he'd taken the bait. Aelin was nice. Aelin was just a rabbit.

Clark leaned over the table. "So you'll give me the camping mats." She nodded. "And you'll allow me to take Bailey to Edmonton?" He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

She'd fought him on that in their last discussion. He went to Edmonton regularly on business. It was where he'd cheated on her. Both times.

Aelin nodded again and reached for a tissue. "I know you'll make it an amazing trip for her. It's really not about me. It's about Bailey."

Clark squirmed. For the first time, his smile faltered just a touch. Aelin began to shake from the surge of adrenaline.

"Of course. It's always been about Bailey." Clark cleared his throat.

Jules gave Aelin a sidelong glance, then shuffled through her papers. "I have a statement here from Bailey's therapist. I'm not sure if you received it yet." She slid the paper across the desk.

Aelin watched as the lawyers leaned in to read it. She knew what it said. Bailey had expressed concern over moving. Over having to change schools because her dad didn't live as close.

Clark looked up. He wasn't smiling. "Aelin, if you?—"

"What do you think we should do?" she asked, her eyes still glassy. "I don't want to fight anymore, Clark. You're a lawyer. You know so much more than me. What do you think is best for our daughter?"

Clark's nostrils flared. Thomas and Martin straightened and turned to look at him. That's when she knew she had him. He couldn't drag her under the bus, not now. He would look like an insensitive prick. Aelin wasn't sure of much, but she was positive that all Clark wanted was for everyone to think he was God's gift to the earth.

"I'd like to think about this—" Clark started, but Aelin cut him off.

"I won't fight you on anything, Clark. There's nothing to think about. Just do what you think is best for her, and I'll sign off on it. "

Clark's neck flushed, and Aelin twisted her hand under the table and lifted her middle finger.