“Anthony.”
“Women always, you know, have a good time, and Daphne always, you know…” A hurt look filled his eyes as he let the sentence trail off.
A pang of sympathy went through Rebecca even though her patience for hand-holding was low on a good day and nearly nonexistent after a court battle this morning and this mediation this afternoon. Anthony’s head was no doubt whirling. Was he bad in bed? Had his wife faked her enjoyment? Was that why she’d strayed?
Rebecca reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Anthony, you know she’s just throwing out words to rile you up. I told you she’d say the ugliest things to get you off your game. This is a standard emasculation tactic.”
He blinked. “What?”
She blew out a breath. “The easiest way to knock a guy off his game is to insult his penis size or his ability in bed. Men seem to have some inborn need to defend against that type of insult.” In her head she called it the Dick Kick, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it to a client. “On the other side, men insult the woman by saying she was frigid or ugly, getting fat or old. When cornered, people strike right at the clichéd insecurities. It’s completely unoriginal and the tactic of someone who knows she’s losing the fight. It means we’re winning.”
He gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Winning? She’s going to get her therapist to label Prince a therapy dog. Watch. Then, I’ll lose Prince, too.”
His voice caught and he glanced away, hiding the tears that jumped to his eyes at the thought of losing his dog.
Rebecca frowned. She’d never had a pet because her father had deemed them unsanitary and high maintenance, but she was regularly amazed at how people would throw away everything to keep a pet or some sentimental item. She always preferred to have the client who was less attached to those things. Sentimentality made people irrational. You can take the eighty-thousand dollar car as long as I can keep my mother’s china.
Rebecca didn’t get it. But, of course, when the mother you worship leaves your family without warning when you’re in fourth grade to go start a new family, you learn not to get attached to much.
But Anthony was her client, and he’d told her in no uncertain terms that the dog was the number one priority. He was paying her to get what he wanted, so she would do that because she was good at her job and not there to judge whether a crotch-sniffer trumped a million-dollar home.
Rebecca patted his arm. “I promise. This is going exactly how we want it to. As long as they don’t have any curveballs we didn’t prepare for, what we discussed will work.”
He looked up. “Curveballs?”
“Yes, any items you didn’t tell me about that could make you fold.” Rebecca glanced at the door, making sure they were still alone, and casually rose from her chair and leaned over the table to flip open Raul’s folder. She read the neat handwriting upside down. There was a jotted list of notes and talking points. She recognized and expected most of them. House. 401(k). Cars. Timeshare. Antique furniture. Jewelry. All things she’d gone over with Anthony. But one buried near the bottom caught her eye.
She quickly flipped the folder closed and settled back into her seat. She pinned Anthony with a look. “Tell me about the record collection.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“They have it on their list to discuss.”
“They have what?” A bright flush of anger filled Anthony’s face. “Those are my goddamned records. I’ve been collecting them since I was fourteen.”
Uh-oh. “Have you added to it since you were married?”
“Yes, but—”
Great. “Is it worth a significant amount of money or would it be hard to replace?”
His face paled. “I have original editions. Some signed. Some would be near impossible to replace. She can’t have it. That collection is…it’s my childhood.”
A sinking feeling settled in Rebecca’s stomach. “The dog or the records, Anthony. If you had to die on one hill, which one is it?”
“You want me to pick between my dog and a collection I’ve spent twenty years putting together? That’s impossible.”
She shook her head, her tone no nonsense. “I will work to get both, but if I have to cut one in order to get the other, I need to know which one to drop.”
But the door opened before he could answer, and everyone filed back in. Raul and Daphne looked smug as they walked the dog back into the office. Prince Hairy proceeded to duck beneath the table and plop down on Anthony’s feet.
Anthony gave Rebecca a forlorn look.
She lifted a brow and he nodded.
The dog wins.
The mediator took her seat. “Okay, why don’t we start again now that everyone has cooled down?”
Rebecca folded her hands on the table and straightened her back. Poker time. “I’ve talked with my client, and I believe we have a workable compromise. Mr. Ames will give Mrs. Ames the dog, his old records, the Mercedes, and her antique doll collection in exchange for the house and the SUV.”
Anthony went tense in his chair, and Rebecca could feel the what the hell are you doing vibe coming from him, but she didn’t look his way.
Daphne’s eyes went comically wide. “My doll collection? That’s mine anyway.”
“It was acquired during the marriage.” Rebecca kept her tone professionally bored.
“The doll collection is off the table,” Raul said smoothly.
Rebecca made a note on her legal pad. “Then the record collection is, too.”
“Fine.” Daphne nodded. “Take your crappy records.”
Raul frowned, his sentimental bargaining chip slipping out of reach.
Rebecca nodded crisply. One down. “Okay, Ms. Ames, so you get Prince Hairy and will be solely responsible for his care and vet bills. Mr. Ames will get the house and will buy you out of your half. Agreed?”
“No,” Daphne said, glancing at her lawyer with a do something look. “I’m not leaving here without the house. I picked every paint color, every tile, chose every piece of furniture. It’s mine.”
“You could move in with your parents, Daph,” Anthony said casually, playing his part again. “Until you find another place.”
She blanched. “I’d rather kill myself than live with them. I’m not leaving my house.”
Anthony propped his chin on his fist as if settling in for a really good movie.
Rebecca tried not to grimace at Daphne’s comment. She’d never gotten used to how easily people tossed around those dramatic words. Threats of suicide and murder rolled off people’s tongues all the time, especially in divorce mediation. She knew it was just hyperbole, but in high school, two people had made those threats and then carried them through. No one had listened. They’d thought it was an exaggeration. She’d thought it was an exaggeration. They’d all been wrong. So very wrong.
Her stomach flipped over and she took a sip of water, trying to shake off the memories that were like the off-key elevator music of her life, never far in the background and always ready to turn up louder. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Ames,” the mediator said. “If we don’t resolve this here, this will have to go to court. Try to remember that compromise isn’t losing. Seeking things just for revenge feels satisfying in the short term but will drag this process out, cost you more money with your lawyers, and will create more stress for you. You will be dealing with each other for a long time. If we can resolve this here, you can walk away and not have to see each other again.”
“Well, there’s a bonus,” Anthony muttered.
“I’m not afraid to go to court to get my house,” Daphne said, tone frosty.
Rebecca set her pen down and focused her attention on Daphne. “Mrs. Ames, I’m sure your counsel has warned you that if this goes to court, you’re going to risk losing more than you will
if we can come to an agreement here. Texas allows fault to be shown in divorce. We have proof of your affair. These details will be brought out in court.”
Daphne wet her lips and her throat worked.
Rebecca cocked a brow in a way that she hoped conveyed, Yes, all those dirty details you’re replaying in your head right now? That will be displayed in court. And no one is going to side with you after that because no one likes a cheater.
Rebecca had watched the incriminating video with Anthony at her side since he’d wanted to see the whole thing but didn’t want to do it alone. Daphne had forgotten about the security cameras her husband had installed outside by their pool, and she’d put on quite an X-rated show with the contractor one night when Anthony had been out of town. The explicitness of the video had made Rebecca feel equal parts uncomfortable and fascinated. She’d definitely never had that kind of intense sex. She’d never had the urge to literally rip someone’s clothes off to get to them. Frankly, she hadn’t realized people actually did that outside of movies. She couldn’t fathom being that…feral with anyone.
But seeing it had made Anthony vomit, and that was when Rebecca had understood the real story.
The man had truly loved his wife, and his world had just been ripped in half. He’d thought he was in one kind of movie and had wound up in another. He wasn’t the hero. He was the fool. He’d ended up in the wrong third of the statistics.
So Rebecca had no qualms about taking Daphne down. Cheaters deserved what they got. And too bad for Daphne, they were Rebecca’s specialty.
“You’re trying to scare me,” Daphne said finally.
Rebecca leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, relishing that calm, cool control that filled her veins in these situations. “I’m simply stating the facts, Mrs. Ames. Ask your lawyer if he thinks I’m exaggerating. If we go to court, you will be deemed at fault and the settlement will definitely reflect that.”
Raul folded his hands and rested them on the table, his own poker face in place. “We’re prepared to go to court if necessary. My client will not bend on the house.”
“Mr. Ames, what would it take to compromise on the house?” the mediator asked. “If there’s nothing, then we should just move this to court.”
Anthony settled back in his chair, arms crossed casually, expression smugly confident. Rebecca wanted to cheer. The game had finally clicked for him. He was playing his part. He shrugged. “Sounds like I’d be better off going to court. That way I’ll get the house, the ridiculous dolls, the better car, and my dog. You’ll end up back home with your parents. You can call Eric and have him remodel your parents’ crappy seventies ranch to make your room real nice.”
Daphne’s jaw flexed, and Raul put a hand on her wrist as if sensing what was about to happen, but it was too late. She was already talking. “Fine. Take the stupid dog! I know that’s what you’re after. He’s a filthy, dumb waste of space anyway.”
Prince Hairy lifted his head beneath the table and whimpered, as if he recognized the description and took offense.
Daphne waved a dismissive hand. “Take him and whatever else of your junk you want. Just give me the house, my furniture, and my car. Then, you never have to see me again. I’m done with this crap.”
Rebecca gave a Mona Lisa smile.
Anthony’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward, victory all over his face. “You’ve got a deal.”
Raul closed his eyes and shook his head.
But the mediator pressed her hands together in a silent clap. “Fantastic. Well done. I’m so glad you two could make this work. The agreement will be drafted up, and we’ll be finished with all of this.”
Another love story ended with a signature on a dotted line.
Daphne grabbed her purse and stood, her chair rolling behind her and banging against the wall. “You’re such a smug asshole, thinking you’re so much better than me. If you wouldn’t have treated me—”
“That’s enough, Mrs. Ames,” Rebecca said. “You’ve said your piece.”
Her attention swung Rebecca’s way. “And I don’t care that you’re some famous survivor or whatever. You’re a stuck-up, know-it-all bitch!”
“Daphne—” Raul warned.
But Rebecca held on to her polite smile, the words rolling off her like water on a windshield. Let Daphne have her tantrum. People had all kinds of preconceived notions about Rebecca when they figured out she was the Rebecca Lindt who’d survived the Long Acre High School prom shooting—that crying redheaded girl who was rolled out bleeding on a stretcher on the nightly news twelve years ago. The notions strangers got of her often involved shining light and singing angels, or like she had some secret sauce recipe on how to live a meaningful life. But she had news for them. Surviving a tragedy didn’t make you magical. It made you tough. Not special. Just lucky. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Ames.”
Daphne made a disgusted noise and flounced out the door without a goodbye. Her emotional companion didn’t even lift his head.
Raul stood. “Sorry about that. She’s just…processing all this.”
Rebecca smirked. “That’s one term for it. But no worries, I’ve been called worse. Probably by you on some days.”
He chuckled as he slipped his things into his briefcase. “Only when I lose. And only respectfully.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t feel any malice toward Raul. She called him a smarmy bastard on the regular. Rebecca lifted her hand in thanks to the mediator as the woman escaped the room and probably headed to the nearest bar.
“Thanks. Have a good weekend.”
They shook hands and he followed the mediator out.
When Rebecca shut the door and turned to face her client, Anthony pushed his chair back, let out a whoop of victory, and patted his thigh. “Come here, boy.”
The dog scrambled to his feet and leapt into Anthony’s lap with glee. The giant poodle was way too big to be a lapdog, but Anthony didn’t seem to mind. He buried his face in the dog’s copper-colored fur, which really did look like the color of Prince Harry’s hair, and let go a litany of mushy endearments.
Prince licked his owner’s face and made happy, huffing dog noises. Rebecca crossed her arms and shook her head as she stepped closer, amused. “I could’ve won you a lot more money and the house.”
Anthony looked up, absently rubbing the dog’s neck. “I know.”
“But the dog is worth it?”
“Of course he is. Look at him.” Anthony cupped Prince’s snout.
Rebecca eyed the ball of fur skeptically. “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Well, happy isn’t the word, but relieved,” Anthony said. “Going to court would be too hard.” He looked down at the dog as if eye contact with her was too much. “Every time I look at Daph, even with all the anger, I can’t help but see the girl I fell in love with.”
Rebecca tilted her head. “Even when she’s calling you an asshole?”
“Yeah. I know that version of her I loved is not in there anymore, but I can still remember that feeling of when we first got together, that high. Love ends but it leaves…I don’t know, afterimages on you. Like the person I used to be still loves the person she used to be. I don’t want to have to see her in court and drag this out. I can’t watch that video again. It feels like having my guts ripped out fresh each time I see it. Like I’ve failed at something I thought couldn’t fail.”
Rebecca frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He leaned back in the chair with a tired look. “You ever have a moment you wish you could just go back and change? Like, I wonder what my life would look like right now if I hadn’t offered Daphne my umbrella the day we met, if I had just kept walking.”
A moment she could change? Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ears, her ribs cinching tight and her composure trying to falter. “No amount of wondering can change the past.”
Prince jumped from Anthony’s lap and settled at his feet, obviously exhausted by divorce mediation and philosophical conversation. “I know, and they say we shouldn’t want to change anything. The butterfly effect and fading photos in Back to the Future and all that. But would you change one moment if you could?”
Even though she tried to stop it, memories flashed through Rebecca’s mind like a gory movie. Thoughtless words. A boy seething with something sharp and dangerous. Because of her. Blood. Screams. The sound of gunshots. She swallowed past the dryness in her throat and ignored the phantom pain in her leg. “In a heartbeat.”
Anthony nodded solemnly like he was a comrade-in-arms. “Me too. I’d walk right by Daphne and let the rain soak her to the bone.”
Rebecca smoothed the wrinkles in her pants, trying to re-center herself, push away the ugliness. “If you’d passed her by, maybe you wouldn’t have Prince.”
Anthony’s staid face broke into a slow smile. “You’re right. And he’s the best.”
“He better be,” she said with a tight laugh.
He rubbed the dog’s head. “To be honest, this is all I need. I’d rather be broke than go home to an empty house. The past week that Prince has stayed with Daphne has been rough. There’s nothing more depressing than knowing no one is waiting for you at home. That no one cares if you show up or not.”
The words pinged through Rebecca, hitting places she’d rather not examine. She forced a smile. “Right.” She stepped over to pet the dog, who immediately buried his nose between her legs. She took a big step back. “Well, I think this guy will definitely be happy to see you at the end of the day.”
“Yes. I don’t like to brag, but I am his favorite crotch.”
Rebecca snorted. “High honor.”
“Indeed.” Anthony tapped Prince to get him to his feet and stood to shake Rebecca’s hand. “Thanks for everything. I won’t say it’s been fun, but at least it was quick.”