Page 56 of The Perfect Divorce

It’s another ten minutes before Kent’s admin/niece gives me the go-ahead that he’s ready to see me. I deeply exhale as I rise from my chair.

“Good luck,” Candace says, putting an extra high-pitched emphasis on the wordluckas I walk past her into Kent’s office.

I ignore her sarcastic well-wishes and close the door behind me. Kent is seated in an oversized swivel desk chair, the best money can buy. His office is tidy, not a single item out of place, and his eyes are fixed on his laptop.

“Morning, Kent,” I say, pulling my lips in and clasping my hands together in front of my waist.

He lifts his head. “Bob, just the man I wanted to see,” Kent says nonchalantly, closing his laptop and motioning to one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

I nod and do what he says. When I’m settled, Kent props his elbows on the desk and leans forward, interlocking his fingers. He sports a full head of silver hair, a hardened face, and a watchful eye. He’s near retirement age but he’ll never retire. This firm is his life, his legacy. Removing that from him would be the same as pulling the plug on someone’s life support. He’ll probably die right here in this very office. It’s essentially a coffin waiting for a body.

“So, how’ve you been, Bob?” he asks in a jovial tone—well, jovial for him.

I know what Kent’s doing. He’s trying to act as though everything is fine and dandy, get me to lower my defenses, so I can be on my heels the second the conversation turns south. But everything is not fine, and I’ve witnessed this tactic far too many times before. I’m just waiting for the hammer to drop.

“Fine, and how about yourself?”

Kent leans back in his chair, swiveling back and forth. “Well, I was fine until I received some unfortunate calls last night from two of our biggest clients. Do you have any idea what they’d be calling me about, Bob?”

I swallow hard. “No.”

“I figured that much.” He cocks his head. “They informed me that they are not too happy with the lack of attention they’ve been receiving from the senior team. Apparently, they’ve only had direct contact with our junior members for the past month or so.”

“Yes, that is true,” I say, quickly pivoting. “I thought it’d be a good idea to elevate my team and give them more responsibility. More direct client interaction with tasks typically reserved for senior leadership would make them grow all the faster. Being thrown into the fire, so to speak.”

“Putting in face time with our biggest clients is not a responsibility you just hand off to the junior team.”

Kent sees right through my bullshit. Honestly, I knew I’d been slipping at work because I’ve been so focused on the divorce, and now the stuff going on with that missing woman. But I didn’t think I’d slipped enough for anyone to notice. “You’re right, Kent. I apologize.”

He lets out a deep sigh, exhaling through his nose, signaling that he’s just getting started. I already know an apology isn’t going to cut it with him. He wants me to beg for forgiveness. Grovel at his feet.

“You know, Bob, it took me a long time to find someone that I felt was worthy enough to become named partner at my firm. I mean, Sarah Morgan’s stilettos were incredibly large shoes to fill.” He lets out a small laugh.

I bite my tongue to stop from interrupting. With Kent, you have to let him finish because he’s going to get out every word he intended to say regardless. The only difference my interruption would make is to the delivery of his remarks, and I prefer condescending over angry.

“But I chose you, despite your prickly personality. Because when push comes to shove, you’ve always shoved back harder.” He firmly nods. “However, over these past few weeks... I’ve been questioning if I made the right decision.”

“You did make the right decision, Kent. I’m your hardest worker. I’ve proven that to you, and I’ll do it again. I apologize for having fallen short recently. I really do. It was not my intention.” I pause, rubbing my temple. “I’ve just been dealing with some personal stuff but?—”

“I know all about your personal life, Bob.” He raises a brow and then continues with his prepared speech. “But that doesn’t excuse you not showing up at the office or having junior staff run meetings with my firm’s top clients. You’ve been a ghost around here. The echo of your cheap loafers and the lingering scent of what you call a cologne are the only things that let me know you were once a valuable asset.” Kent’s anger is starting to rise, and his voice is following suit. Now would not be the time to argue with him that my Ferragamo loafers are anything but cheap and that Creed Aventus is most certainly a cologne. “The only time I hear your name in a sentence around this office now is when your colleagues are asking, ‘Where’s Bob?’ or ‘Has anyone seen Bob?’ I put your name on the goddamn building!” Kent pounds his fist onto the desk, shaking the contents like an earthquake. “That means you should practically be living in it, especially for how much I pay you!”

I hold direct eye contact with him to show him that I’m listening, but I’m not—because I’m still stuck on one sentence he said. It’s echoing in my head.I know all about your personal life, Bob.

“What do you mean you know all about my personal life?” I ask, tightening my eyes.

Kent sits there silently staring back at me. Letting the seconds pile up until they nearly become minutes. Why isn’t he answering? He’s never at a loss for words because he enjoys hearing himself speak so much. Unless...

“You,” I say, pointing a finger at him. He doesn’t react. He remains calm, holding steady eye contact. “Youtold Sarah. How the hell could you do that to me?”

“Now, now. Settle down.” His tone is just as condescending as his remarks. His hands flap in a downward motion as if he expects my nerves to follow suit.

“I can’t believe you.” I shake my head. “I’m your partner. We’re... bros. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“I’m a sixty-five-year-old multimillionaire. I own a prestigious law firm. I’m both a Princeton and Yale grad. I’m a member of the American Bar Association, and I sit on numerous boards around the DC area. I’m a father and a grandfather and a loving husband. Do you notice what isn’t on that list? A bro. I’m not your fucking bro, Bob!”

“There was no goddamn reason for you to tell her. It was a onetime thing, a huge mistake, and now you and your big mouth have blown up my family. Why the fuck would you do that?” I yell.

Kent looks out his floor-to-ceiling windows for a moment before meeting my gaze. “Because Sarah is like a daughter to me.”

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