Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Oliver stands. “Your Honor?” He waits for the judge’s permission to speak and then says, “Please note the clause stating that Mr. Ford retains the usage rights for the name Ford Construction, and there will not be a noncompete in place. Additionally, we’ve included a copy of the corporate name-change filing, setting up the existing company as CDF Construction.” Thankfully, she decided to go with a more respectable name, not Chrissy’s Construction.
Oliver sits, giving Chrissy a reassuring nod.
“Let the record reflect those clauses and addendum,” the judge tells the court reporter. To the two people sitting on opposite sides of the courtroom, he advises, “This is one of the most one-sided divorce decrees I’ve ever seen, and leaves Mrs. Ford with a significantly larger portion of the marital assets. Is this agreeable to you, Mr. Ford?”
As Jed rises, he shoots a wounded look at Chrissy. “Yes, Your Honor. I’ve done some things that Chrissy didn’t deserve, and now . . . I just want us both to move on. I want my own life”—he turns to smile at Lucy, who lays a hand on her belly but doesn’t return the smile—“and I want Chrissy to be happy in hers.”
“Jesus, it’s getting deep in here,” I hiss in Jesse’s ear, and he chuckles softly. “You know as well as I do that Jed doesn’t think he’s done a damn thing wrong. Ever. But saying I traded in my wife of thirty years for a younger model doesn’t exactly set you up to be the bastion of respectability for the town, does it?”
“And you, Mrs. Ford? I take it these terms are agreeable to you as well?” the judge asks.
Chrissy nods, not even rising to answer.
Judge Hobner takes one more glance through the decree, holding several pages up at a time as he scans again and again. “Okay, your funeral,” he tells Jed. “Divorce decree accepted as presented. Case closed.”
And with a sharp bang of the gavel this time, everything changes.
“It’s done?” Chrissy asks Oliver, wanting to be sure before she gloats.
Oliver grins, probably congratulating himself on the big win. “Yep, it’s finalized.”
“Woo-hoo!” she screeches, losing any and all attempts she was making at being well-behaved. “Fuck you, Jed!”
The shout is full of relief and joy. And freedom after years of being under Jed’s thumb. The gallery is talking among themselves, some even laughing, despite Judge Hobner banging his gavel repeatedly at Chrissy’s outburst. “Quiet down!”
But no one pays him any mind, in shock at Jed’s capitulation to his now-ex-wife.
Jed turns around and reaches out to Lucy, who stands to step forward. It’s the only thing that could get this crowd to focus, as they look to Chrissy for her reaction to the two lovebirds.
The air thickens with anticipation, but rather than Lucy consoling Jed, she walks the few steps to Chrissy’s side.
“Oh, shit,” someone says.
“Here we go,” someone else adds.
I swear there are probably betting odds—in Chrissy’s favor, she’s shown her crazy quite a bit lately and Lucy’s pregnant; in Lucy’s favor, youth and that mama-bear instinct.
The two women stare at each other for an awkwardly long moment where we all hold our breaths, and then they . . . hug. Tears of happiness stream down both of their faces as they laugh, and Chrissy exclaims, “We did it!”
“What?” Jed blusters, jumping up from his seat. “What’s going on?”
Lucy looks at Jed, letting the adoring veil drop from her gaze. “I know.”
Two simple words, but with them, everyone realizes there’s more going on than a simple divorce today. Even Jed.
He smiles sweetly at her, his tone pulling somewhere between pure innocence and lovesick teenager. “What do you mean, Lucy-Juicy? You know what? That I’m divorced and we can get married now?”
He’s trying hard to set the narrative and remain in charge, but it’s not working.
“I know you hid properties in my name,” Lucy tells him flatly. Jed’s eyes jump to Chrissy, afraid for her to hear that intel, but Lucy’s got that too. “She already knows. We all know.”
“We?” Jed echoes as his brows slam down in confusion.
This is it. I squeeze Jesse’s hand so hard I’m probably breaking bones, but he doesn’t stop me. He’s watching my dominos fall with me, proudly anticipating that I’ve set each one perfectly and in awe of how my brain works.
One at a time, women stand from the gallery and step forward to join Chrissy and Lucy . . .
Etta, with a shit-eating grin that says she’s really enjoying this.
Mom, with a politely bland expression.
Maggie, seeming nervous but standing with the other women anyway.
“What the hell is this?” Jed demands as he shoots up from the table, eyeing each woman with undisguised hatred.
“Jed Ford Support Group,” Etta informs him. “We’re thinking of getting T-shirts with ‘JFSG’ on them, but we can’t agree on a mascot yet. I’m team hippo, happily living life and lying in wait to strike when the opportunity presents itself. But for obvious reasons, Lucy’s not on board with that right now.” Etta pats Lucy’s belly like a proud aunt. “She’s team honey badger, which, to be honest, we’re probably gonna go with because who’s gonna tell the pregnant woman no? Not me for sure.”