Page 89 of Blue

Interlacing his fingers behind his head, he tilted his chin upward and willed Nate to call him back already. The longer this took, the more opportunity Angela had to muck it all up. She was flighty as hell. The wind blew the wrong direction and she could send new hell his way.

What the hell took so long? Shit was supposed to be done. This was just signing—finalization.

That was what he said, anyway.

“Would you like some water?” the receptionist asked meekly.

Exhaling a long breath, Mooky’s hands fell to his sides. He turned toward her. “I don’t think it’ll help.” He hated how defeated he sounded. Wasn’t he about to be divorced? This was the goal.

Be excited, damnit.

Why the fuck was he nervous, anyway? Aside from Angela potentially throwing a monkey wrench into it, of course.

He wanted this. He’d lived like a divorced man for longer than he’d ever existed as a respectable married one. All this would do is make it legal.

“He’s on a conference call,” she explained sympathetically. “It should’ve ended a half an hour ago. He should be out any minute.”

Mooky nodded, giving her a polite, albeit weaker, smile. “Thanks.”

The odds of that discussion being about Mooky were high. Whether it be his recent charges or Angela, that telephone meeting could fuck up his world.

He dipped his chin. His gaze drifted over to the uncomfortable seats. Damnit. If for no other reason than to put her at ease, he needed to plant his ass in one of those chairs and do his best to sit still.

Jesus Christ, he was worse than a kid who just snorted pixie sticks.

“Mr. Retz,” she called. “He’s ready now.” She beamed.

Thank fucking Odin.

Another five minutes and he might have worn a path in the carpet from all his pacing. He wasn’t sure who was more relieved, himself or the receptionist. It couldn’t have been easy to have a nervous biker going back and forth like a caged tiger in front of her.

“Thank you,” Mooky said and followed her toward Nate’s office. The walk seemed longer than it had last time.

Cracking his knuckles, he glanced at the local art on the walls depicting blurry images of Akron. It was formal and clinical. None of the paintings offered the soothing feeling he desperately needed. He counted his steps. Thirty or so in, he lost count and started over.

It shouldn’t have been like an ominous death march.

Finally, at the door, she knocked. Once Nate beckoned his escort to enter, she pushed the door open and waved Mooky to go inside.

Here he was, on the precipice of his new life. His better existence, a reality of new happiness and new possibilities—everything he wanted. All he had to do was cross that threshold and he’d take the first step toward his renewed beginning with Blue and his kids.

Mooky offered the receptionist another nod of awkward gratitude before shifting his focus to the lawyer on the inside. Nate shuffled papers around on his desk. He seemed to be just moving them from folder to folder without rhyme or reason. When Nate glanced up, he smiled.

“Have a seat,” he said with a brief gesture toward the chairs facing his desk, then resumed his paper flipping.

Eyeing the chairs, Mooky grumbled. Wonderful, more squeaky, fake leather chairs. He rolled his eyes and plopped down in one.

“It’s done, right?” Mooky asked eagerly.

“The marriage? Just need signatures,” Nate said as he closed the folder and pushed it toward him. “Still working on the other stuff.”

Mooky stared at it in disbelief. It really was about to be over.

“Once you sign, it gets filed. You’ll be legally divorced anywhere from thirty to ninety days, depending on court backup. I’d say about forty.” He shrugged as he placed a pen on top of the folder. “Everything else is gonna take longer.”

Mooky’s gaze locked on the pen, but he couldn’t get his arm to move to take it. “And the terms?” he asked.

Sure, the answers were in that folder, but they’d be wrapped up in legal jargon—he suspected.

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