Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Nuh-uh,” I said. “Though I’ve been in a bad area. I’m down south helping out—or was helping out—with the flooding. They had two cell towers go down. What did you have to say?”
“The annulment was denied because apparently the judge had seen you drink before, and he decided that you couldn’t be under the influence of alcohol since it could cloud your judgment. And, apparently, with his denial of the annulment, he sent out certified papers to your place and they were signed for by you.”
I winced. “I thought they were the annulment papers. Not papers that said that the annulment was denied.”
“Anyway,” Todd went on. “It was suggested that you file for divorce, which was explained in the papers you received. You had ten days, I believe he said, to file for divorce or the divorce would be dropped off the docket.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep. So, you want me to file for the divorce?”
I snorted. “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay,” he said. “I already had all the paperwork drawn up on my part. The only problem is that with divorce, you also have to divide up your assets.”
“Our assets,” I said carefully.
“Yes,” he said. “Anything you bought together while you were married, you have to divide up. Any vehicles, property, or belongings. If she’s willing, you can settle this without problem. She signs, you sign. Easy as that. But from what you told me earlier, she probably won’t be as willing to do that as she might’ve once been.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been ignoring her for weeks.”
Todd had the decency to quiet his guffaw of laughter by covering the phone, at least.
“Well, stop ignoring her. Try to get her to settle out of court. You know I’ll drive over for this if it comes to it, but my wife’s been sick the last two weeks, and I’d like to not come down if I don’t have to.”
“I’ll try my best, but it’s probably not going to work that way. She was pissed at me.”
I looked over at the reason she was pissed at me and winked.
Winnie rolled her eyes.
“Well, I’ll file it in the morning. If all goes well, you can have it done within a few weeks.”
A few weeks.
I looked back at the woman occupying my passenger seat.
I could make it a few weeks…right?
Yeah, I heard the universe laughing, too.
Chapter 12
I don’t give a sip.
-Coffee Cup
Steel
“But, Mom!”
Winnie’s eyes narrowed, and I knew that she was about to blow.
“I told you what I wanted,” she snapped. “I realize that you think you’re an adult at sixteen years old, but you’re not. You’re a minor. I am responsible for you until you turn eighteen, or you emancipate yourself from my care. I don’t want you to do that, but that threat isn’t going to work anymore on me. They’re fucking pants. If you don’t want to wear them, oh goddamn well. I had to deal with this crap when I was in high school, and never once did I complain. Why? Because I knew the rules. If I didn’t like the rules, that was just too goddamn bad. I knew better than to think the rules were going to change just because I didn’t like them.”
Winnie’s daughter’s eyes went electric.
“You compare yourself to me all the time. Let me tell you something, Mom. Things have changed.”
“No, the only thing that has changed is that kids feel entitled to things that they have no right to feel entitled to. What’s changed is parents allowing their children to act like assholes by letting them get away with it.”
“It’s a pair of shorts, Mom.”
“NO,” she snapped. “It is not. It’s a pair of shorts that violates the dress code. The dress code that you violated last week and got sent home for. I don’t have time to take off of work to come get you. I especially won’t have the desire to come get you when you knew going in that you were violating the dress code. So, here’s your choice. You wear jeans, or you wear shorts. Just know that if you’re sent home, and I have to come get you, you will be grounded for the next two weeks. In that time, I will throw every single pair of shorts you own in the trash so you have no choice but to wear pants anymore. Also, you can kiss your phone goodbye.”
I listened to the two of them argue from my driveway and wondered if I should wade in.
However, with Conleigh not being my daughter—because if she had she would’ve known better than to try to get away with wearing those shorts outside of the house—I had no say so in what was said or done.
Instead, I chilled, waiting for the fight to sputter out.
“Mother, boys sexualize everything. Why should I have to wear pants because they can’t control their urges?”