Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
I wish I could say I disagree, but...I can’t. She comes from the same world that he does. She was born with wealth and power, while I was born to serve people like them. I know I should stop reading all these comments, stop torturing myself by staring at their photos and mentally listing all the things she’s his pefect fit. I know this is not what God’s asking me to do while He wants me to wait.
I know all of these things, but it’s just so, so hard to tune it all out.
Please, God.
Please.
Help me.
And one day, He finally answers, with Miguel asking me to meet Toby Knowles, a lawyer who specializes in legal separation for married couples.
IT’S MY THIRD TIME to meet with Toby, and I’m not quite sure what to think when this time, we end up meeting at Flavier’s. Even though I still don’t know him pretty well, he’s too detail-oriented not to realize that this is the same restaurant that Aivan and I had our first date. Or at least that’s how I used to think of it. But after everything that’s happened...
I really need Your help, God.
Because with each day that passes, I can feel the broken pieces of my heart hardening, and I’m scared that they’d turn completely brittle and irreparable over time.
Flavier’s has only gotten more popular over the years, with tourists mixing with locals, plus the usual afternoon crowd of old men playing cards and gossiping about everyone’s business. I chose a corner table, hoping to be invisible, but I can feel curious glances. Everyone knows who I am, and worse, everyone also seems to know who Toby is.
“Signora Cannizaro, thank you for meeting with me.”
Toby is not how I pictured a lawyer for famiglie would look like. I did imagine him to be dignified, and that touch of silver hair certainly does the trick. But other than that? His aura is more reassuring than intimidating, his looks more...introspective than smoldering. I did wonder how he ended up working with a man like my father-in-law, and the first time we met, Toby had immediately picked up on my curiosity.
“It is because we are the same, signora,” he had explained with a slight smile.
That had only added to my confusion, and so Toby explained how he, too, had been born to a family that just happened to be employed by famiglia. So, yes, he was like me. Not famiglia, but almost...and I guess that’s why Miguel chose him to handle the “legalities” of my marriage. He knows what’s at stake, once a name is recognized as famiglia.
“I know your preference for cutting to the chase,” Toby begins soberly as he opens his briefcase. “So if you could take a look at this...”
My hands tremble as I take the document from his hand. It’s a draft of a contract, about a dozen pages that basically spell out what I can expect to receive...if Aivan and I choose to live separate lives.
“I don’t understand...” Does this mean Aivan was really serious about wanting a divorce? In my last phone call with Shayla, she told me she suspected that the divorce—especially since he had even hired Myca to handle it—was Aivan’s knee-jerk reaction to me not crawling back to him.
He had never been the vindictive type, despite being born famiglia, but if there was one thing I’ve learned from being his wife for a decade, then it’s how proud he was. Aivan hated all kinds of failure, and so I could definitely understand how and why he would try to hurt me that way. It was wrong in every level, but hurt people hurt. That was just how it was in this broken world.
But then this...
I look at Toby. “Who asked you to draft this contract?”
“I’m sorry, signora. I know you think Aivan—”
No. No. No.
I only realize I’ve risen clumsily to my feet when I see Toby looking up to meet my gaze. “Signora—”
“I’m sorry, I just need...I need time to...”
Think? Cry? Pray?
Words have already failed me, and I quickly turn away to keep Toby’s prying gaze from catching the tears that have already started making my eyes sting.
Please help me understand, God.
I keep my head down as I walk. I’m not even sure where I’m going. Or what I want to do. All I know is that I...
Please, God, please.
“Sienah...”
Fingers cup my elbow from behind, stilling my movements before spinning around.
That voice...
I know the world may be expecting me to hate him, but the moment I hear that voice...
Finally, oh, finally.
That’s all I can think about even as every conversation dies down, and Flavier’s becomes as silent as a graveyard.
Finally.
That’s all I can feel even as all eyes turn to us like we’re the stars of tonight’s show.
I don’t care what anyone thinks. All I care is about what God has now made heartbreakingly clear, and it’s that finally, oh finally...