“Okay, but before you go, I need you to sign the waiver. The rest are things dealing with insurances, the house mortgage, and oh, this one here lists our cars and how much remains on each loan. It’s all just stuff that indicates what property we own together.” I shifted through some of the papers. “Oh, and this one, this one is a statement saying that we elect to not do counseling. This one is for bringing in an advocate for Julia Kate specifically. Nothing legally binding, of course. Here’s a pen.”
I heard the scuff of the chair behind me, and Scott’s eyes jerked to Griffin. “There’s a guy. He’s at a table behind you. I think I’ve seen him before.”
“Who?” I said loudly, acting like I would turn my head.
“No, stop.” Scott patted the table, looking rattled. “Give me the pen.”
I shoved the pen toward him. He picked it up, tugged at his collar, and signed the top document, which was the waiver. I flipped to the next sheet.
He glanced again at Griffin and signed it.
“And here,” I said, flipping to the next. He signed. I flipped again. He signed. Finally, I got to the bank form.
We had agreed that I would tap my right foot twice on the stool leg when I reached the bank form. I clicked my sandal against the steel. Behind me I felt Griffin standing up.
Scott jerked his gaze to Griffin and sucked in a deep breath. “I really gotta go, Cricket.”
“Just three more,” I said, tapping the collection of forms.
“Fine,” he said, scribbling his name and date on the bank form. Then he quickly completed the last two.
Oh. My. God.
He signed it.
I truly couldn’t believe that he’d scribbled his name across so many forms without reading them. Totally atypical of my paranoid husband, who might leave a receipt on the table, but who’d read every contract we’d ever signed. I almost wanted to jump up and scream Sucker! but I managed a sedate “Thank you, Scott. I really want this to be easy, and I can see that you do, too.”
Griffin appeared to my right, giving me a bit of a start. “Ready?”
Scott looked up at him with alarm. “Uh, can I help you?”
“I’m just the notary,” Griffin said, pulling out his stamp and pressing the seal onto the top page. He plucked the pen out of Scott’s hand and scrawled his own name boldly beneath the seal.
“The notary?” Scott said, slightly stupefied and perhaps a bit sheepish. “Oh . . . you were . . . watching the signing. I thought—”
“She’d hired me to kick your ass?” Griffin asked with a predatory smile. Goodness, the man looked extremely dangerous. And hungry. Like he could carve out Scott’s liver without a second thought. Griffin looked at me, amused. “I can kick his ass if you want me to. I know a great place to dump a body. Lots of gators.”
Scott looked at me like he believed Griffin. I shrugged and smiled. “You know, Griff, it was a toss-up, but I think we can let him live to see another day.”
“It’s your party, sunshine,” Griffin said, continuing with his stamping and signing.
Scott looked vastly uncomfortable. I understood. A month ago I’d felt pretty uncomfortable around Griffin, too. And this whole bar scene was way different from anything Scott frequented in town. Country club it wasn’t. But I found I liked the way I felt here, and the people who occupied this space were the real deal. They were just what I needed in my life.
My husband looked across at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. I knew I didn’t look all that different, but I felt different. Like the skin I’d been wearing had sloughed off to reveal a softer, more supple Cricket. I had done a peel on myself, getting rid of the tired, worn outer layer and bringing forth someone who could truly see herself. This new Cricket was more than a wife and mother. More than a committee chair. More than an agreeable daughter. Just more than.
And it felt good.
Really, really good.
So I smiled at Scott.
The man looked positively perplexed. I guess that made sense. A minute ago I had cried over him. At present I felt almost relieved that I no longer had to wash his underwear or go to a mind-numbing social event just so he could “work” the room. With the stroke of a pen, he’d submitted to our divorce. Now it was a matter of going before a judge and dissolving what was left between us.
It was over.
And I had gotten the money, too. So yeah, I smiled.
Griffin shoved the papers into the folder and handed them to me. “No charge.”