Page 34 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)
I pat her hand. “Believe me, it’s the truth. The sooner I can put this whole episode behind me, the better. Did you know my father showed up at the funeral?”
“What?” Her head flips from side to side. “No. Why was he there?”
Our discussion moves away from my misguided marriage to talk about the man who left Ma when I was five. We eventually move on to discussing the clinics’ patient load.
“I did have a lunch meeting with Dr. Marlow,” I remind Court.
No need to mention it being cut short because of the phone call from Kara about Ma.
“He promised his office would be sending more of his patients our way. Michelle has to listen to her boss.” I lean back, crossing my arms. “Checkmate, Michelle.”
Turns out it was more like check .
Two days later, I’m sitting at my dining room table sorting through Ma’s accounts. She squirreled some money in one bank, more in another, with another five I still need to check. Rubbing my eyes, I plead for help. No one responds.
My phone chimes with an alert. I finally turned all of my alerts back on last night, thinking the worst would have passed. Over a thousand texts, voicemails, social media messages, and notifications proved otherwise. So I did what any normal person would do, and ignored all but a very select few.
The divorce attorney I selected to represent me.
My sister.
Court.
All the rest can fly off into the ether, for all I care. The Google alert chimes again, and I consider disabling it as well, but it’s set for At Your Service PT and I need to know if there are any hits on my business. I click on the alert.
The headline says it all. “At Your Service Gives Happy Endings.” I skim the article. “Sources say” my physical therapy clinics are fronts for a massive prostitution ring in the Hamptons. Even Darren’s mother is quoted.
I jump to my feet. You have got to be kidding me. Seems like Bennett was correct on this one thing—Michelle couldn’t have cooked this up on her own. Lissa had to have helped. Darren’s mother simply added fuel to their fire.
I pace through my kitchen, trying to figure out a way to shut this story down before it gains legs. Besides the obvious denials and patient testimonials, I need to clap back. I might have a relatively easy target against Michelle, considering she works for Dr. Marlow, who seemed to be on my side.
The wildcard is Lissa. Bennett’s ex. How can I get her to back off? Hell, I’m no longer with Bennett, so what does she want with me anyway?
It hits me. The world doesn’t know we’ve called it off.
All I need to do is alert them to our upcoming divorce and everyone will leave me alone.
I have an initial meeting with the attorney later today and we can discuss this.
More settled than I have been in a while, I return to focusing on Ma’s accounts.
At two o’clock, I walk into the legal office and am escorted into a nicely appointed conference room. Important-looking books line the walls with titles like New York Divorce Law and The Statute of Limitations . Clearly exciting reading.
The attorney, Suzette Pounds, enters the room carrying a notebook and we discuss my short-lived marriage.
When we’re through most of the details, I say, “Sorry to put a rush on this, but I have a situation that needs to be addressed, and I thought getting my divorce out there would be the best way to handle it.”
“What’s going on?” I explain to her about Lissa and Michelle’s vicious attack on my business.
“That certainly puts a spin on things,” Suzette notes.
“If the divorce is as amicable as you make it sound, as soon as we serve Bennett with the papers, we can go public. The reporters should get off your back.”
“I hope so.” Lissa and Michelle don’t seem the type to back away, but if the media loses interest in me, they won’t have any other option. Besides, Lissa’s only after me because of Bennett. When she realizes we’re through, she’ll try another tactic.
“To expedite things, how about asking Bennett where we should serve him,” Suzette says. “The documents will be ready to go in the morning. You have a straightforward case.”
“I’ll reach out to him.”
I open the messenger app and, ignoring the long list of unopened texts, search for Bennett. The number seventy-six sits next to his name. He texted me that many times? Frowning, I open the first one:
ROCK STAR
Jenna, I love you so much. Don’t do this to us. You need time to process everything that’s happened. Call me when you want to talk, day or night.
ROCK STAR
I miss your kiss. I miss your touch. I miss your smile.
ROCK STAR
Please come back to me.
I stop reading and type him a message:
Looks like you were right about Lissa and Michelle teaming up. We can shut them down by letting the world know we’re splitting up. I’m at the attorney’s office now. She wants to know where we can serve you the divorce papers? Should I have them sent to Secluded Rest?
“There,” I address Suzette. “Sent. I’m sure he’ll say the place he bought, in town, Secluded Rest, so you can put that on the papers for now.”
“Will do.”
The alert for a text comes in, and Bennett’s name comes through. I glance at the lawyer. “He’s gotten back to me.” I open the text:
I’m not accepting them.