For one strange second, the question sounded almost familiar. Like something my husband would have asked after a long day, when he still noticed if I limped from standing too long at the clinic.
Then Olivia’s fingers brushed his shoulder, and the moment vanished.
“I’m fine,” I said.
He looked at my belly.
His face softened—not much, but enough to remind me why this hurt. Daniel was not incapable of tenderness. He was capable of setting tenderness aside when it became inconvenient.
The clerk rose.
“All rise.”
Judge Marianne Ellis entered, a woman in her sixties with silver hair pulled neatly back and reading glasses balanced low on her nose. She took her seat, reviewed the docket, then looked down at our file.
“Carter versus Carter,” she said.
We sat.
The proceedings began exactly as expected.
Names. Dates. Confirmation of identities. A brief summary of the marriage. The petition for dissolution. The proposed settlement agreement.
Daniel remained relaxed through all of it. He believed we were here to finish something already decided.
And in a way, we were.
Judge Ellis looked at me over her glasses.
“Mrs. Carter, you are currently expecting a child?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Expected due date?”
“Six weeks from now.”
“And both parties acknowledge Mr. Carter as the presumed legal father?”
Daniel shifted slightly.
“Yes,” he said.
His attorney nodded. “That is correct, Your Honor.”
Claire’s pen moved once across her legal pad.
The judge continued, “The agreement before me includes temporary support provisions and a parenting schedule to be determined after the birth. Is that correct?”
Martin Hale stood.
“Yes, Your Honor. My client has agreed to reasonable financial support pending establishment of a formal parenting plan.”
Reasonable.
The word nearly made me smile.
Daniel’s idea of reasonable had changed dramatically since Olivia entered his life. During the marriage, he had called my income “our safety net.” When I became pregnant and reduced my hours because of complications, he had called my medical appointments “poor timing.” When he moved out, he had called the mortgage “your problem, since you wanted the house so badly.”
The house my father had left me.
The house Daniel had tried to include in the marital settlement until Claire produced the deed, the inheritance documents, and a letter in my father’s handwriting so precise and legally clear that even Martin Hale had stopped arguing.
Judge Ellis looked toward Claire.
“Ms. Whitmore?”
Claire stood.
“Your Honor, before the court approves the agreement, we need to address newly obtained financial disclosures and a related matter that affects support, property division, and the welfare of the unborn child.”
Daniel’s head turned.
Martin Hale frowned. “Your Honor, this is the first I’m hearing of any newly obtained disclosure.”
Claire’s expression remained neutral.
“It was provided to counsel electronically at 8:14 this morning, along with supporting documentation.”
Martin opened his briefcase quickly.
Daniel leaned toward him. “What is she talking about?”
Olivia sat forward.
