Brock had contacted an attorney and, using his change of career circumstances as an excuse, he was approaching Olivia to see if they could agree a joint custody schedule. The boys with Brock one week, back with Olivia and Dade the next.

In my mind, there were two possible reactions to this from Olivia. Relief that she could continue with her spa visits and shopping and whatever else she did during her days unhindered by the responsibility of her boys being around most of the time. Or anger just because she was a bitch.

Brock, being Brock, had to have prepared for either eventuality.

“And?” I prompted.

“And she phoned me.”

“Okay,” I said when he said no more.

“And when she phoned me, she asked if we could meet, have dinner. She told me she’s close to leavin’ Dade and she’s scared. She hasn’t worked in over two years, she signed an iron-tight prenup, has no money of her own, isn’t in a position to set up again and take care of the boys, and certainly not in the position to hire an attorney to deal with me. She reiterated she wants to discuss our situation, the boys’ situation, our family situation, and the possibility of reconciliation.”

I felt my mouth get tight. Then I felt Brock’s arm give me a squeeze.

“I said no, babe,” he told me. “I told her that wasn’t a possibility. I’ve moved on, that move from her is permanent and at this juncture in our lives, we need to talk through our attorneys.”

My mouth relaxed.

“Then I got a call from Rex,” he went on and I blinked. He kept talking. “Rex was freaked, said his mom picked them up from school and she was a mess. Cryin’, carryin’ on, told them what I was doin’. Told them she was leavin’ Dade. Told them she was scared. Told them me bein’ with you meant we’d never have a family again. And told them she didn’t know what she was gonna do. He called when they got home and told me, even after they got home she was still cryin’ and carryin’ on, and she was. I could hear her in the background.”

My mouth again got tight.

Through stiff lips, I whispered, “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Damn.” I was still whispering. Then I asked, “What’d you do?”

“What could I do?” he asked back. I read it as the warning sign it was when his arm got tight, his body turned slightly into mine, his eyes locked with mine, and I braced. “I hauled my ass over there and calmed her down by promising to have dinner with her.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I pressed my lips together and looked at the counter.

“Baby.” Another arm squeeze and I looked back up at him. “This is a minefield. I gotta go slow and cautious. That’s why Hector’s here.”