Page 51 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“The point of this meeting is to try to come to some common ground with each other before we see a courtroom. To see if there’s anything that you and the defendant are willing to compromise on,” I explain.

“I want what’s mine. It’s not that complicated,” he states, jiggling his hands in his pockets.

“Unfortunately, it is,” I tell him. “Because you’re married. And you’ve been married for a long time. Anything you bought or made since you got married is legally both yours.”

“But she doesn’t have a job!” he blurts out, and I flatten my hand out and sweep it slowly through the air in abring the volume downmotion.

“Again, it doesn’t matter. Not typically, anyways. I would like to use the fact that she stayed home in your favor to sway it away from the 50/50 line. Just know that they’re going to come at us with alimony and most likely, especially because of your income, she will get it.”

“I never stopped her from getting a job,” he says. “I didn’t care that she only made like twenty thousand a year. It made the fact that we traveled a lot for my job easier. She couldn’t have held a job if she wanted to because of my–fuck.”

Michael stops himself, seeing the problem. She couldn’t work. Not a real career. Not if they wanted the relationship to work.

“Fuck,” he says again, and I walk over to him.

“Listen to me. You need to let me do the talking. All of the talking. Don’t open your mouth, not to speak or scoff or anything else unless I look at you and cue you to do so. You’re not paying me to let you take the lead. So follow mine.”

And with that, I nod toward the door.

We walk in and find Ashley and her attorney sitting at the table, waiting for us. Just like I wanted. By being fashionably four minutes late, it makes it obvious whose time matters more. It also makes the opposing client more nervous with every passing second, and my hope is that it will make her sloppy.

They stand.

“Grant,” I nod.

“August,” he nods back.

And for a second, we study each other. It’s pretty humorous that we would end up on yet another case together. And while I am obviously not a fan of Grant Bowen, I do enjoy going head-to-head with him. He knows his shit. He’s second to none except maybe me. He makes my job challenging, and I do enjoy it. There’s nothing I hate more than being bored.

“Do you two know each other?” Michael asks.

“We’ve had the pleasure of meeting once or twice,” Grant says poetically.

“And who usually wins?” Michael asks, and I shoot him a look that reminds himnot one word.

We all sit back down, and the normal tension fills the small, windowless room. Both people are shifting in their seats, shaking their feet, bouncing their knees and looking everywhere but at each other.

But Grant and I don’t waver. As nerve-wracking as this part of the case is for the clients, this is a routine Tuesday for us.

“Alright, so considering the loss of a good six minutes there, why don’t we get started?” Grant asks, and my mouth twitches. He knows what I’m up to. And I know his movements as well. “As is expected, my client is looking for fifty-fifty on all assets,” he goes on. “This includes the home, vehicles, furniture, entertainment, and so on. Is there anything in that clause that your client is not in agreement with?”

“I mean, I think–” Michael starts in, but one look from me has his mouth snapping shut.

“My client would like to discuss assets in a way that is more fitting to their personal wants and needs, as well as what is fair based on financial input.”

“So because I couldn’t follow his job around the country for the first ten years of our marriage, putting my career and even college career on hold, he gets more?” Ashley blurts out and I shoot Michael and Itold you solook.

“I never stopped you,” he scoffs and I swear to God I am about to kick this loose cannon under the table.

“I think what my client is trying to say,” I say, my tone more directed at him than anyone else at the table, “is that we would like to go over the assets through itemization instead of assuming a blanket split.”

“Alright,” Grant nods. “How does that look for your client?”

“He wants his car, obviously. The boat because he still uses it. The entertainment room furniture. The bedroom set. And of course, personal items,” I state as I read.

“And that would leave the sitting room furniture,” Grant says. “Which works to my client’s advantage since I believe you picked out the set from World Market, yes?”

“Yes,” she answers with a dry mouth, and she reaches for her water bottle. “I was never much of an Ethan Allen fan.”