Chapter 8 - The Divorce They Finally Read
They read every page the second time.
Maren sat beside Elise.
Gideon sat across from them with his new attorney.
The room had no view of the lake. There was a bowl of wrapped peppermints on the table and a printer that jammed twice.
Maren preferred it.
Nothing about the setting suggested that money could make the conversation easier than it was.
They reviewed property, support, the foundation, and the arrangements they would seek after the baby’s birth.
There were no clauses controlling Maren’s silence.
No restrictions on her friendships.
No provisions allowing Gideon’s family to approve decisions about her home.
When something was unclear, she asked.
When Gideon disagreed, he explained.
They revised the language.
It took most of the afternoon.
At one point, Maren realized she had spoken for several minutes without wondering whether she sounded difficult.
That realization stayed with her.
When the papers were ready, Gideon picked up the pen.
He did not sign immediately.
He read the final page.
Then he looked at her.
“I loved being your husband,” he said.
Maren swallowed.
“I loved being your wife.”
“I wasn’t good at the part where you needed a partner.”
“No.”
He nodded once.
Then he signed.
This time, the silence afterward felt honest.
The divorce became final later that summer.
Maren marked the date privately.
She took a long walk with Nora, ate peach pie at a diner, and went home to assemble a crib.
Gideon had offered to do it.
She had told him she wanted to try.
Three hours later, surrounded by wooden rails and confusing instructions, she called.
“I may have been overconfident.”
His laugh was quiet.
“Do you want advice or help?”
She closed her eyes.
It was such a simple question.
“Help.”
He arrived carrying a toolbox and dinner.
They assembled the crib without discussing the marriage.
He held the rails while she tightened the bolts.
She read the instructions.
He listened.
When they finished, they stood looking at it.
White wood.
A small room.
Afternoon sunlight on the floor.
“I like it here,” Gideon said.
“So do I.”
Her new townhouse was modest by Vescari standards, though Maren knew most people would still call it beautiful. She had bought it with money already hers, chosen the paint herself, and learned the names of her neighbors.
Nobody entered without calling.
Nobody expected her to sit at the far end of a table and be grateful.
As the months passed, the investigation produced consequences.
Adrian was charged in connection with the financial scheme and the efforts to conceal it.
A freight supervisor agreed to cooperate.
The inquiry into Theo’s death found evidence that his vehicle had been followed before the crash. Investigators continued building that case separately.
Celeste faced allegations concerning diverted funds and her role in the intimidation campaign.
Gideon did not issue statements defending her.
He also did not pretend that public disgrace erased the fact that she was his mother.
Some days, Maren could see the strain in him.
He spoke about it with his therapist and his attorney.
Occasionally, when she asked, he spoke about it with her.
He no longer made her guess.
At thirty-three weeks, they attended a childbirth class together.
The instructor asked each support person what they were most afraid of.
One man said fainting.
Another said traffic.
Gideon looked at Maren.
“Being so focused on controlling what happens that I stop listening to the person it’s happening to.”
She turned toward him.
He was not performing.
He was taking notes.
After class, they walked slowly toward the parking lot.
“Would you like dinner?” he asked.
Maren smiled faintly.
“Is that a date?”
“If you want it to be.”
She thought about it.
“Yes,” she said. “Dinner can be a date.”
May you like
He opened the restaurant door for her.
Then he stepped aside and let her choose the table.
