My Husband Replaced Me, My Lawyer Claimed Me.

Staying ahead

(Lena)

The site visit was scheduled for ten in the morning.

The client was a woman named Patricia Lawson who had bought a four bedroom house in Buckhead and wanted the entire interior redone before she moved in. We had been in the planning stage for three weeks and this was my first proper walkthrough of the space with her contractor present so we could talk through what was possible and what wasn't before I finalized the design plan.

I got there a few minutes early and stood in the empty living room with my notebook and looked at the space.

This was the part of the job I loved most. Before anything was decided, before the paint went up or the furniture came in, when a room was still just walls and light and possibility. I could see things in an empty room that most people couldn't. I could look at a blank wall and already know what it needed. I had been able to do that since I was young and it had never stopped feeling like something worth having.

Patricia arrived shortly after me and the contractor, a man named Deon, came in a few minutes behind her. We walked through the house room by room and I asked questions and took notes and made suggestions and pushed back on two things Deon said he couldn't do until he looked at them properly and agreed that he could. Patricia laughed at that. She said her last designer had just agreed with everything the contractor said and she had ended up with a kitchen she didn't like.

I told her that was not how I worked.

We spent almost two hours in the house. By the time we were done I had four pages of notes and a clear picture of what the finished space was going to look like. Patricia walked me to my car and told me she was glad she had found me and I thanked her and meant it.

I sat in the car for a moment before pulling out.

This was who I was. This was what I did and what I was good at and what I had built for myself before anyone else had a say in it. Four years of Hart Interiors. Clients who came back and sent other people to me and trusted me with their spaces because I paid attention and I delivered and I never just agreed with something because it was easier than pushing back.

Brad had wanted me to walk away from this. He had sat in my living room and told me to pull back, to be there for Jade, to make myself smaller so his situation could be more comfortable. And I had said no and meant it and I was sitting here now with four pages of notes from a client who was happy and a business that was still standing and a lawyer who was taking apart everything Brad thought he was going to keep.

I pulled out of the driveway and headed back toward the office.

The drive from Buckhead took me through a stretch of road that ran not far from the house. I hadn't planned to go that way. I just did, the way you sometimes take a route without thinking about it because your body knows it even when your mind is somewhere else.

I slowed down as I turned onto the street.

Brad's car was in the driveway. That was not unusual. But next to it was another car I didn't recognize. A grey sedan that I had never seen before. It was parked close to the house, not on the street but pulled up next to Brad's car like whoever it belonged to was planning to stay for a while.

I drove past without stopping.

I didn't slow down and I didn't turn my head to look at the windows and I didn't let myself think too hard about who the car belonged to or what was happening inside the house I had designed and paid for and was currently fighting for in court.

It could have been anyone. A friend of Brad's. Someone from his work. Someone Jade had over.

Or it could have been a lawyer.

I kept driving.

By the time I got back to my office I had made a decision. I was going to call Cole. Not because of the car specifically but because I had been meaning to ask him something about the timeline and the car had reminded me that Brad was moving on his side of things whether I was watching or not and I needed to stay on top of my own.

I sat down at my desk and picked up my phone.

His direct number was in my contacts now. He had given it to me at the end of our first meeting and I had saved it under his full name because it felt more appropriate than just Cole, even though he had told me to call him that.

It rang twice.

"Lena."

He picked up on the second ring and said my name before I had said a word and I wasn't sure if that meant he had saved my number or if he just knew it already. Either way it did something small to my concentration that I chose to ignore.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," I said.

"You're not. What do you need?"

"I wanted to ask about the timeline. I know you said you'd call me later this week but I had a question and I didn't want to wait."

"Ask."

"How long before we're actually in front of a judge? I know there are steps before that but I wanted to understand roughly where we are in the process."

"We're in the early stages," he said. "Once the formal petition is filed and Brad's lawyer responds we'll have a clearer picture of how he intends to approach the property argument. After that we move toward a preliminary hearing. It could be six to eight weeks before we're in a courtroom for the first time."

"Okay," I said. "That's helpful."

"Is there something specific that's making you ask about the timeline today?"

I paused. "I drove past the house on the way back. There was a car in the driveway I didn't recognize. I think Brad may be meeting with a lawyer."

"That's expected," Cole said. "He's going to get someone. It was always going to happen."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure we're ahead of it."

"We are." He said it without any hesitation. "Whatever he puts together on his side we're already further along than he is. The documentation you brought in is strong and my team has started building the full picture. By the time he files anything we'll be ready for it."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Okay."

"Lena." A brief pause. "You don't need to watch the driveway. Let me watch the case."

I almost smiled at that. "I wasn't watching the driveway. I just happened to drive past."

"Of course," he said. There was something in his voice that was not quite amusement but close to it. "I'll call you later this week as planned. And if anything else comes up before then call me directly."

"I will," I said. "Thank you."

I ended the call and set the phone down on my desk.

I sat there for a moment.

I hadn't needed to call him. The car in the driveway was not an emergency and the timeline question could have waited until he called me. But I had picked up the phone anyway and he had answered on the second ring and said my name before I had said a word and now I was sitting at my desk feeling steadier than I had any particular reason to feel.

I pulled my notebook toward me and opened it to the pages of notes from Patricia's house.

I had work to do and I was going to do it.

But I thought about his voice for the rest of the afternoon.