Page 12 of Fresh Canvas
“Th-that’s not fair. You’re making it seem like—of course I didn’twantto leave.” I turned to my lawyer, flustered. “I had a hard time giving up my career. I loved it?—”
“More than our son?” Ryan asked innocently, his perfect smile widening. “I bet you’re dying to get back to it then. Lucky for you, I’m happy to take Anthony off your hands. The firm has agreed to let me take an entire summer off to spend with Anthony. Go on, live the life you wanted.”
I snapped my gaping jaw shut, cursing my tear ducts to keep it together.
“Anthonyismy life,” I said.
My throat sealed shut then, refusing to let out the sob that would likely be on my next word. How could Ryan be so callous, so cruel? I’d never get used to seeing him like this.
My lawyer stepped in to defuse what felt like the hundredth meeting.
“As you can see, my client has greatly sacrificed for the wellbeing of the child. I see no point in disrupting the boy’s life more than it already has been.” Ryan’s slipping smile made me want to cheer. My lawyer looked him dead in the eye and continued, “Assigning more time to you, the secondary parent, would do exactly that. We stand firm with every-other-weekend visitation.”
“Well, then.” Ryan’s broad hands slapped the table, making me jump. “I won’t agree to the settlement. So, I guess we’ll see you back here in a few weeks,Amantha.”
My name had never sounded so bitter on his tongue. Not a caress—a slap. Like there’d been years of simmering animosity between us and he didn’t have a reason to hold back anymore. Like him needing an affair was somehowmyfault.
“You’re going to give in eventually; might as well be now.” With that icy smile of his—the unfamiliar one that could cut glass—he swung open the door and left.
I watched my ex-husband stroll down the hallway with his hands in his pockets. A genuine smile split his face as he raked his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. All it took was one glimpse of Vanessa’s dark, glossy hair for my tears to spill over.
“Miss Adams?” My lawyer smoothed her red blazer as she looked up from her papers.
I swiped the emotion from my eyes.
The sound of my maiden name lifted my chin a fraction of an inch. Legally dropping Ryan’s last name had been a good reminder of who I really was.
She lifted the stack of documents, tapping the edges against the table and laying them down. “I think Ryan is right.”
My stomach lurched. “What?”
“It’s time for you to go back to work. It makes sense financially, plus it will show the judge that you are moving on with your life and Anthony. That you can still be the present, doting mother and provide for him. Ryan will have nothing to stand on. Once they see that stalling the settlement won’t faze you, they’ll give up.”
Go back to work?The revelation compressed the air out of my lungs. Deep down, I knew I’d have to rebuild my life at some point. I pinched my cotton skirt and twisted it between my thumb and forefinger.
“I hoped I wouldn't have to until Anthony is more….used to all these changes.” I hedged.
Entering the workforce as a mother felt unnatural to me. Sure, I’d encountered many strong women in my neighborhood who balanced work and family with ease. But me? I’d probably fail and screw my kid up in the process.
Although, Anthonywasmuch older now since the last time I faced this dilemma. He had his own hobbies, friends, and a pretend “study group” that was just a thinly-veiled excuse to play video games and eat pizza bites.
But wasn’t sacrificing one’s identity a hallmark of a “great mom”? The day he was born, I had boxed myself up, tied a ribbon, and presented my sacrifice to society on a silver platter. What did that box mean now?
As daunting as it felt, the prospect of starting back up my career caused a happy spark of life to ignite inside me. Why of all things was that spark producing the most guilt?
I glared at the back of my ex-husband’s head as he disappeared around the corner. Ryan had never supported my dreams. In fact, his blatant encouragement of them now was almost comical.
No, suggesting I return to the museum had been meant to offend me. To remind me of yet another thing he had taken. Having good faith in Ryan’s intentions was like climbing into a lion’s den and being shocked when my leg got bitten off.
Maybe my lawyer was right.
A plan emerged from the dusty recesses of my mind. A plan I’d been told was selfish for years. A plan I thought wasn’t allowed.
Screw you, Ryan.
I was going back to the museum.
four
