“Yes.”
“You don’t have to be there.”
“I know.”
“You could let the court officer handle everything.”
“I know.”
He studied me.
“Claire.”
“I’m going.”
He nodded.
“Then we go.”
He started the engine.
As we pulled away from Bellhaven County Courthouse, the Hartwells were ordering steaks and congratulating Nolan on his freedom.
They thought I had lost.
What they did not understand was that my divorce had stopped being the most important legal proceeding in my life almost four months earlier.
And while Vivian was raising her glass in Northcrest, another clock was already running out.
At five that afternoon, her right to remain in the Hartwell house would legally end.
