Lawson by Crystal Daniels
Willow
I've been a nervous wreck for the past two days, thinking about the meeting with the lawyer today. So much so, I don't think I got but a couple of hours of sleep last night. Wanting to look somewhat put together, I dress in a pair of black jeans and a burgundy floral top Genesis gifted me from the shop when I first started working there. In fact, she gave several items to both me and Lilly, another woman who works at GiGi's. Genesis claims it's free advertisement, but the truth is, she's just a nice person.
The blouse I'm currently wearing is my favorite. The rich color makes my hazel eyes pop, and the cinched middle does wonders for my waistline, giving me the perfect hourglass shape. Once I slip my sandals on, I hurry into the bathroom to quickly do something with my hair. I made the mistake of going to bed with it wet the night before, and instead of the straight, sleek look I usually have, my hair is now an unruly mass of waves.
I look down at my watch and realize I only have thirty minutes to get to where I need to be. "Crap," I grumble, snatching the tube of mascara off the counter and applying a coat to my lashes. Then I cover my lips in some cotton candy lip balm. Yep, I'm a grown woman with a lip balm obsession. Flavored lip balm: cotton candy, banana, watermelon, strawberry, and green apple.
"Dammit." I now only have a couple of minutes to walk the two blocks to Mr. Pearson's office. "Shit, shit, shit." Bustling out of the hotel room, I quickly make sure the door is locked then jog across the parking lot. The Texas heat is no joke, and before I even make it halfway to my destination, I feel sweat trickling down my back.
I release a sigh of relief after making it to the lawyer's office with one minute to spare. I stare at the small brick building that says Bill Pearson, Attorney at Law, written across the glass window of the front door before pulling it open.
Seated at the lobby desk is an older woman with shoulder-length gray hair and a warm smile. "May I help you?" she asks.
"Yes. I'm Willow Keaton. I have a nine o'clock appointment with Mr. Pearson," I tell her.
"Of course, Mrs. Keaton. If you follow me, I'll take you back to his office." The woman stands, and with her hand she motions for me to follow her down a hallway. She stops at the second door at the end of the hall. "Bill, Mrs. Keaton is here to see you."
Mr. Pearson turns from the window with a phone to his ear. "I have a client waiting on me, Dillon. I'll call you back." Hanging up, he slides his cell into the front pocket of his dress pants. "Please. Come in and have a seat." Mr. Pearson smiles. He then addresses the woman behind me. "Evie, will you please call Dillon Case back and put him down for tomorrow afternoon." Mr. Pearson looks at me. "Mrs. Keaton, would you like some coffee or a bottle of water?"
"I'm good, but thank you."
With a nod, Mr. Pearson's secretary leaves us alone. "So, Mrs. Keaton, what can I do for you today?"
I take a deep breath. "I want to file for a divorce."
"Okay. I can help you with that. Is this divorce amicable? Or will your husband have a separate attorney?"
"No, it's not. I'll be honest with you. My husband will probably try to fight it."
Mr. Pearson nods. "That won't be a problem. Is it okay if I ask you some questions?"
"Sure." I nod.
Mr. Pearson picks up a pen from his desk to make notes. "What is your husband's name? How long were the two of you married? And what does he do for a living?"
"His name is James Keaton. He's a police officer in Houston. We've been married for eight years."
"What is your current living situation? Do you and your husband still reside in the same home?"
I shake my head. "No. My husband lives in Houston, and for the past several months, I've been living at Graystone Inn."
"Is there a particular reason you moved away from your home in Houston?" Mr. Pearson speaks with a calming tone.
"Yes. I left my husband. I decided enough was enough, and a friend of mine helped me move. I packed what I could fit into a suitcase and left. And I'll go ahead and state that I don't want anything from my husband. There is not much to be had besides a house and a car, but he can keep both."
Mr. Pearson gives me a small smile and continues with his note-taking. "Okay, Mrs. Keaton. That answered my next question about the property. Now, do the two of you have any children?"
My lips form a flat line as I shake my head. "No children." James desperately wanted children. We tried for years to get pregnant without success. I broached the subject that maybe he get tested, but James did what he does best; he blamed my not being able to get pregnant on me. Just another one of my shortcomings and something else he could throw in my face when he felt like being a bastard. In the end, I see us not having children as a blessing.
"Mrs. Keaton, I have to ask one more time, are you sure you want to walk away from this marriage with nothing?"
"Mr. Pearson, my husband is not only a narcissist, but he is controlling and mentally abusive. I've spent the past eight years being told what I can wear, where I can work, how I can spend my own money, which people I can be friends with. I was told daily that I am a fat disgusting excuse of a wife. That I can't do anything right, including giving him children. He also cheated on me multiple times then told me it was my fault because I didn't turn him on anymore. I assure you; I want nothing from my husband but his signature on the divorce papers."
Mr. Pearson gives me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Keaton."
"It's okay, Mr. Pearson. I know you're just doing your job."
He nods. "Do you have any questions for me before we go any further?"
"Yes. What can I expect to happen after today, and how much is this going to cost me?"
"Well, as soon as you leave here, I will have the papers drawn up, then the next step is to have Mr. Keaton served. As far as the cost, we can work something out. We offer payment plans if necessary. How about we don't worry about that right now. Let's get through these next steps and see where we're at."
My shoulders lose some tension, and I blow out a relieved breath. "Thank you so much, Mr. Pearson."
The two of us stand, and he offers me his hand. "You're welcome, Mrs. Keaton, and please call me Bill."
I take his offered hand. "Thanks, Bill, and you can call me Willow."
"Willow, if you'll leave your phone number with Evie, I will be sure to call you once your husband has been served, and if there is anything else you can think of that you need to ask me, please don't hesitate to call or stop by."
Once I’ve given Evie my contact information, I step out of the office and onto the sidewalk feeling like a small weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Now I pray that James doesn't fight this divorce, and I can finally move on with the rest of my life.
"Hi,Willow. Don't you look pretty today," Genesis boasts when I walk into the shop an hour later.
I smile at the compliment. "Thank you," I say, then duck behind the sales counter and stow my purse on the shelf under the register.
"I came in early to get caught up on some paperwork, so I'm going to help you unpack the new shipment before we open," my boss tells me. "I have been dying to see what we got."
"Me too." I beam. Making my way from behind the counter, I follow Genesis into the stockroom at the back of the store, where there are at least a dozen large boxes stacked. Grabbing the one closest to me, I rip open the top and pull open the plastic-wrapped garment. "Oh my, this is beautiful." I hold the dress up in front of me. It's an elegant white vintage lace sundress with a deep V in the front and a tie in the back.
"I'm going to assume by the look on your face you approve," Genesis laughs.
"Are you kidding? It's beautiful. If only I could afford it."
"It's yours then," my boss tells me.
"What?" I gasp. "Genesis, no. You've already given me too much. I can't accept this," I protest.
"Sure, you can. You know what I say: It's free advertisement," we both say in unison. "Besides, I can tell the dress was made for you, Willow. That dress on all those killer curves of yours." Genesis fans herself. "If only I had an ass like yours."
I duck my head and hold the dress to my chest to hide my smile. Being complimented like that is not something I'm used to but I admit feels good. "Thank you, Genesis," I say barely above a whisper.
"You're welcome, Willow. Promise me you'll wear the hell out of that dress, and that'll be all the thanks I need."
When noon rolls around, the bell over the shop door jingles, and in walks Ransom, Genesis' boyfriend. "Hi, Willow, how are you today?"
"I'm doing okay."
"Is Genesis in her office?" he asks.
"Yes."
With a nod, Ransom makes his way toward the back, disappearing down the hall.
Five minutes later, the two emerge. "Willow, Ransom and I are going to lunch and to see an architect about the space next door. I shouldn't be too long."
"Okay." I smile. "I'll hold the fort down." When Genesis and Ransom leave, I turn back to my last task of setting some of our new jewelry pieces out in the display case by the register. A few months ago, GiGi's actually occupied the building next door, but a fire had been intentionally set with me, Genesis, and Lilly inside, causing significant damage. Genesis was able to rent out this space and, by sheer luck, can outright buy it. Now, she will tear down what's left of the old GiGi's and expand the shop. That's why she and Ransom are going to meet with an architect.
A flash of red catches my attention through the front window of the shop, and I smile, watching Lilly pull into a parking spot.
A moment later, she climbs out of her car, making her way inside. Lilly also works here part-time. "Hi. I brought subs from Monty's." Lilly holds up a white paper bag with the Monty's Sub Shop logo on it.
"You're the best, Lilly. I was in such a rush this morning that I forgot to pack lunch." Just then, my stomach lets out a loud rumble, causing us to laugh. "I'm going to go to the back and get a soda to go with my sub. You want one?" I ask.
"Yes, please. Orange if there's one," Lilly calls as she goes to sit on the stool behind the front counter.
When I make my way back up front, I pass Lilly her soda. Just as I'm about to dig into my food, the phone next to the cash register rings. "I got it," I tell Lilly when I see her make a move to get up from the stool she's sitting on. Picking up the phone, I answer, "Thank you for calling, GiGi's. How can I help you?"
"Willow." At the sound of my husband's voice, all the air rushes from my lungs, and my body goes rigid. "Willow, I know you're there."
Without saying a word, I quickly hang up the phone.
"Are you okay, Willow? Who was that?" Lilly asks, her tone laced with worry.
"Nobody. It was a wrong number," I tell her almost robotically.
"You sure? Because you look a little pale."
Taking a deep breath, I plaster a fake smile on my face. "I'm sure." I pick my sub up and take a bite. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lilly watching me for a second before she follows suit.
Lilly and I finish eating our lunch in silence because I've drawn back into myself since the phone call and her questioning gaze. I've done a pretty good job thus far keeping my private affairs secret, and that's how I want it to remain. I came to this town to start over, but my husband is making it complicated. I should have gone to Florida like I initially planned. Graystone is too close to Houston. Three weeks ago was the first time I saw James. I was walking home from work one evening, and the moment I stepped onto the parking lot of the hotel, I noticed that familiar black Charger. Instead of sticking around to see if he wanted to talk, I panicked and ran to my room, where I locked myself inside.
I watched and waited for James to make a move for what seemed like forever, but all he did was sit in his car and smoke cigarette after cigarette with his window partially down. Finally, after three hours of doing nothing, his Charger roared to life and peeled out of the parking lot. Since then, James has been back twice. Each time he does the same thing, he sits in the hotel's parking lot for hours before leaving.
I should do like Addilynn suggests and tell the police, but what good will it do? I already know what the police will say. You're not married to a cop for eight years without learning a few things. The police will tell me that James is not actually doing anything. James knows what he's doing. I gave up on trying to understand that man, so I don't know what his goal is by stalking me. He has now escalated to calling my job, and I'm worried. What if he decides to show up and cause a scene? I wouldn't put it past James to pull a stunt like that and get me fired. He's done it before.
I've been lost inside my head, working on auto pilot the past few hours. Before I know it, it's time to close up shop. The bell over the door rings, and as the last customer walks out, Genesis flips the sign on the door from open to closed.
"Willow, if you give me fifteen minutes to finish up in my office, I'll give you a ride," Genesis offers.
"I can take her," Lilly pipes up as she gathers her things.
Retrieving my purse from under the counter, I slip it over my shoulder while keeping my gaze glued to the floor. "Thanks, guys, but I can walk," I lightly decline their offers. I don't miss the frown on Genesis' face as she waits by the door to let me out.
"It's getting dark, Willow."
I give her a weak smile. "I'll be okay. I can use the fresh air." I hike my purse up on my shoulder. "See you tomorrow." With that, I slip out the door.
The walk to the hotel does nothing to clear my mind. It does the opposite. So much so that I'm not paying attention to my surroundings. If I had, I would have seen the black Charger parked in front of the hotel and the man standing outside it.
"Willow!" my husband's voice calls out, making me come to a halt. James stands with his back against the hood of his car, one foot crossed over the other with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. James is not an exceptionally tall man, standing at 5 feet 11 inches, but he keeps himself in shape by hitting the gym every day, and his muscular frame makes him intimidating.
After a second, I find my voice. "What are you doing here, James?"
"We need to talk," he orders.
"No. I want you to leave."
"Willow, this whole thing has gone on long enough. It's time to stop being childish and come home." Such a James thing to say. "I'm losing patience."
"You're losing patience?" I seethe. "Are you kidding me right now?"
James rolls his eyes and flicks his cigarette to the ground. "Still dramatic, I see. I told you I was sorry about Kim. You didn't have to recruit your little friend into helping you sneak out while I was at work."
"You cheated on me with our neighbor in our own house, James. I came home from work and found you banging her on the living room sofa, and you have the nerve to think that a simple ′I'm sorry′ will do?"
"If being with you wasn't like fucking a dead fish, then I wouldn't have to turn to another woman to satisfy me," he spits out, and I have to fight like hell to keep the tears at bay.
"Maybe if my husband didn't constantly put down the way I look and make me feel like I was worthless, then maybe I would feel more inclined to participate in the bedroom." James had made me feel so ashamed and ugly about my size that I grew more and more self-conscious about myself. That kind of thing affects a woman's headspace and self-esteem. It affected me to the point that anytime we had sex, all I could think about was the hateful words and how much my body disgusted him.
"Well, can you blame me? I mean, for Christ's sake, Willow, you're lucky I'm still willing to take you back. You've let yourself go even more since you left. I'm willing to overlook all of that."
"You're a piece of work, you know that? And for your information, I like the way I look."
"Please, Willow. There is no man out there who will look twice at you. You're lucky to have me."
The sting of James' words is enough to feel like someone has punched me in the stomach, and for some reason, Lawson's handsome face flashes through my brain. I've seen the kind of woman he likes, and let's just say not one of them has been on the curvy side like me, but that doesn't mean no man will appreciate a woman with curves. I might not catch the eye of the man I have spent months crushing on, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt, but that's not enough to make me settle for an asshole like James. I'm worth more than that. I'd rather spend the rest of my life alone than go back to him.
"I'm done with this conversation and you. Don't come back and don't call my work either. Nothing you say or do will convince me to go back to you." I turn and begin to make my way to my hotel room on shaky legs.
"You'll change your mind, Willow!" James calls out just as I enter my hotel room and close the door. It's not until I hear his Charger roar out of the parking lot that I can breathe easy again. And once I get my heartbeat under control and my legs no longer feel like lead, I push off the door.
I don't make it two steps before I notice something different about my room. A sinking sensation fills the pit of my stomach, and something tells me James was in here. "My money," I whisper, then make a mad dash to the little safe inside the closet. "No!" I cry when I see it sitting wide open, revealing nothing but an empty space. Falling to my knees, I lean forward and bury my face in the palms of my hands. There is no stopping the tears that flow. I was supposed to meet that old man tomorrow and buy the car he's been holding for me. It's a 2001 Nissan Maxima that he was going to sell for two grand. It isn't much to look at, but the guy said the motor has been replaced, and she runs like new. It has taken me months to save up that money, and now, it’s gone.