“Come and visit from where, Ainsley?” He repeated, not looking at me. “Where are you planning to go?”
“Wherever we’ll be living at the time. I haven’t decided anything yet.”
“But I get no say in this?” He covered his mouth with his palm, then let it fall away, his eyes unfocused. “Is that really what you want?”
“I’m trying to be civil here, Peter. Short of us coming home and pretending nothing’s changed, what can I give you that you want? I won’t try to take any money, or any part of Lae Haer—”
He met my eyes then, his voice too loud. “Was that even a question?”
I lowered my voice when he raised his. “What do you want? Tell me. What is your ideal outcome here?”
“I want you to come home.”
“It’s not an option. Aside from that.”
He huffed out a breath of air from his nose. “I want to be able to see the kids whenever I want.”
“Okay. How often? Weekly? Monthly?”
“Daily, Ainsley, Jesus. You think I’d be fine seeing our children monthly? Be reasonable.” He leaned back in his chair, looking like a petulant child.
“I thought I was.” I rubbed my fingers, trying to ease the tension in them. “We have to compromise. For their sake.”
“And how exactly are you compromising?”
“I’m starting over, Peter. Alone. I’m going to have to build a new career in a city where I don’t know anyone. I’m going to be the sole provider for the kids on a day-to-day basis. Don’t you consider that a sacrifice?”
“No, I consider it selfish, frankly.”
“Selfish?”
“Yes, selfish. Have you even asked the kids what they want?”
Somewhere deep inside my stomach, I felt a sharp tugging sensation—as if the floor had fallen out from under me—as I recalled the conversation with Dylan the night before. I was nearly certain Maisy would choose me, but Dylan was a wild card. After our fight, I was almost positive he’d choose to stay with Peter if he was given the option. And Riley would follow his lead.
The idea of Peter raising the boys alone was devastating. What would he turn them into?
No.
It wasn’t an option.
“I’m being their parent right now. What they want is irrelevant compared to what’s best for them.”
His gaze hardened. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the kids stay with me. It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Unless I get a lawyer.”
“Come on,” I said with a scoff.
“Come on what?”
“You’re not going to hire a lawyer, Peter. We’re going to talk this out like adults.”
“Too late. I already have.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a white business card with creased corners. He pointed to the handwritten note at the top. “We met for lunch at noon. He thinks I stand a chance at full custody.”
I picked up the card with shaking hands, reading over it. “Full custody? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am. Come home, or I’ll fight you with everything I have for them.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “And I’ll win.”
Had I misread the situation so badly? The idea of my husband taking the initiative to get an attorney involved when I was sure he was still rebelling against the idea that we were getting divorced in the first place was shocking.
“H-how did you pay for it?” I asked. There was no money in the accounts, certainly not enough to retain an attorney.
“Yeah, I noticed you drained the accounts.” He tapped the corner of a bright-blue card I didn’t recognize in his wallet. “Did you think I didn’t have a plan in place in case something like this were to ever happen?”
Yes, that’s exactly what I thought.
I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “Well, if that’s how you want to go about this, then I guess I’ll hire one, too.”
“Guess so.”
“This is only going to make things harder on the kids. You realize that, right?”
“So move home and let’s call it all off. If you are really thinking about the kids, that’s what you’ll do.”
In his eyes, I saw the challenge. I tapped my phone screen, checking the time. Nearly an hour had passed since I’d called him. Since our meeting started.
Had anything been accomplished in that time?
“That’s not an option,” I said finally.
“Well, call my lawyer, then,” he said, pushing up from the table to stand once again.