Beyond the Breaking Point (31 page)

After two days straight of sixteen-plus-hour shifts, Cassidy was ready to collapse. How she’d made it through residency where twenty-four-hour shifts were the norm, not the exception, she didn’t know. Compared to then, she should’ve been breezing through this instead of barely making it through.

Over the weekend, both Max and Phillip had called. She’d taken a few minutes to talk to Max, but let Phillip go to voicemail. When Phillip had persisted in calling, she’d sent him a text saying she was working and she’d call when things slowed down. He hadn’t been happy but he’d backed off, which was all that really mattered.

When Cassidy arrived home late Sunday/early Monday morning, she took a shower, ate a bowl of soup and crashed, sleeping twelve hours straight. About one, she woke, emptied her bladder, put something in her empty stomach and climbed back into bed, too tired to even glance at her phone.

It was after six when Cassidy woke again and felt human for the first time in days. She yawned, stretched, and allowed herself to linger in bed for a few more minutes before rising. Eating was her first priority. She called out for delivery, showered and dressed in comfortable clothing and was already salivating when the Chinese arrived.

Since she’d slept most of the way through her day off, Cassidy decided she’d better get some laundry done in the few hours she had left. She didn’t have a washer or dryer, but the complex had a laundry room. Because her sheets still smelled like Max and sex, she began with linens.

Upon returning to the apartment to gather the next load, she realized her phone was still off. She powered it on and checked missed calls. Her mother, who she still wasn’t speaking to, had called yesterday and so had Phillip—a couple of times. Then she checked her voicemail.

“Cassidy, call me. We need to talk about these divorce papers.”

Her heart jumped and her pulse sped up as her nervous system responded with a shot of adrenaline, which was really stupid since she knew he’d be receiving the papers shortly. She’d been so busy the whole thing had slipped her mind. She debated. Call him now or wait? Cassidy decided to take down the rest of her laundry and call Phillip afterward.

She was dumping the last load of clean clothes fresh from the dryer onto her bed for folding when her cell phone rang. Phillip.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t call,” he said.

“I told you I was working doubles. I only recently checked my messages,” she said. He didn’t have to know that “recently” was two hours ago.

“I got the papers you filed.”

“So your message said,” she told him. She had the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she folded her sheets and placed them in the linen closet.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m listening.” Cassidy wondered what there was to discuss.

“No, not on the phone. I’m coming over,” he said and hung up.

Cassidy wanted to protest. Would have had he given her the opportunity to do so. Then she shrugged philosophically. Better to discuss it and get it out the way. Maybe he’d see reason and sign.

She finished with putting up her clothes, cleaned the bathroom, and had begun on the kitchen by the time Phillip arrived. She buzzed him up.

Cassidy had to admit he looked good in his worn blue jeans and fitted T-shirt that molded his heavily muscled body. “Hi,” she said as she let him in.

He glanced critically at her as he entered. “You look tired.”

“Rough weekend,” she admitted.

He had a folder in his hand, which she assumed contained the paperwork.

“Couch or the table?” she asked.

“The couch is fine.” He strode over and took a seat on one side. Cassidy settled on the other, leaving the center cushion between them.

“So…?” she prompted.

Phillip placed the papers on the couch between them and tapped the folder. “What were you thinking?”

“What do you mean?” The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? She wanted out of their marriage.

“You want me to sell the house?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

She sighed. “I don’t care if you sell it or keep it. I just want my money out of it. If you want to keep the house, refinance it and buy me out.”

“It’s our home, Cassidy,” he said with what sounded like forced patience.

“No, it was our home. Now it’s yours, if you choose to keep it.”

He stared at her. “We’ve only had the house for a little over three years. What bank do you think will be willing to refinance me after such a short period? We got a great deal on the house, low interest rates, and generous terms. You think anyone is going to be able to match that? Did you even think about this?”

“So put it up for sale,” she said, wondering why he was making such a big deal about it.

“In this economy? It’s a buyer’s market. Even if by some miracle the house did sell, we’d never get what it’s worth,” he said, still staring at her as though she’d lost all good sense.

“Phillip, I don’t really care what you do with the house. I just want my money out of it. I don’t plan to live in apartments forever.” She could feel her irritation beginning to rise.

“Cassidy, how can you not care? Don’t you remember how long we hunted for that house? How happy we were when the real estate agent showed it to us and the price was in our range? I remember. I remember how we celebrated the day we signed the papers, and the first night we spent in our new home. I remember our first dinner party, and all the plans we made to remodel and redecorate once we’d paid the mortgage down some. We even spoke about putting in a pool.”

Of course she remembered all those things. She absolutely loved her home and she hated like hell having to give it up, but she couldn’t live there with Phillip.  “What are you saying? You want me to take the house and buy you out?” she asked, being deliberately obtuse.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all and you know it.” He gave her a stern look. “That’s our home, Cassidy. Yours and mine together. The home where we live together and where we’ll raise our child. And speaking of children, that brings me to the next item on my list.

“You listed yourself as the custodial parent. How do you expect to be able to take care of a child, working the long hours that you do?”

She straightened in her seat. “Of course I listed myself as the custodial parent. I’m the mother.”

“And you work twelve, thirteen hours a day, six days a week. You leave the house at six and most nights come in after seven at night. What daycare do you know has hours that long?” he asked.

“So I’ll hire someone private,” she said.

“And when you get called out in the middle of the night?”

Feeling harassed, she said, “Then I’ll hire a live-in sitter.”

He shook his head. “You think I want some stranger raising our child? Face it, Cassidy, you need me. My hours aren’t as long as yours, unless I’m gearing up for trial, and if needed, I can work from home. I’m always at home during the night. I’m not going to let you pawn our child off on strangers.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I do. I’m not signing these papers but if, for some crazy reason, I decided divorce was inevitable, there’d be some significant changes.”

At his words, Cassidy felt her blood run cold. “Changes like what?”

He smiled, and she wanted to knock it off his face. “Like, I keep the house until our child reaches the age of eighteen since we purchased that house with our future family in mind, and I retain physical custody of our child. Legally, we’d share custody since it’s only fitting. And the money you took from our accounts? You’d have to replace it. It takes lots of money these days to raise children and of course I want our child to have the best. I’d also have to request child support, seeing as how eventually you’ll be making a lot more money than I.”

“The baby might be Max’s,” she said hoarsely, restraining the urge to scream at him.

“Cassidy, baby.” He stroked her cheek and she jerked her head away from his touch. “You’re my wife. That means, legally, any issue from your body is mine…if I choose it to be. Doesn’t matter if I’m the biological father. All I have to do is claim my child.”

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. In his eyes and expression she could see his deep resolve to get what he wanted—her. That he would stoop to this level infuriated her.

In a vicious undertone, Cassidy said, “Get out.”

He cocked his head to the side and his brow wrinkled. “What?”

“Get out of my house. You dare sit here and threaten me? Get out!”

Phillip had the nerve to look shocked. “Threaten you? I never—”

“Oh yes the hell you did. Get the hell out of my house, Phillip, before I call the cops.” She jumped up from the couch and stormed to the door. A quick flick of the locks and then she was holding it open for him to leave.

He walked slowly toward her, papers in hand. “Cassidy, calm down, baby. I’m not threatening you, just trying to make you see reason. Everything’s not as cut and dry as you seem to think it should be. We’re better together than we are apart. Once you settle down you’ll realize that. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Phillip caught her by the neck and leaned forward as though to kiss her. Cassidy knocked his hand aside with barely restrained violence. The drag of his hand falling away snagged her collar, popped the front buttons loose, and caused her shirt to fall off one shoulder. Cassidy irritably yanked it into place, all the while glaring at her husband.

“Leave, Phillip. Now!”

He stared at her neck and his features hardened. “I told you I’m not giving you a divorce. I meant it. You’re my wife. We love each other. End of story. I’ll do whatever it takes to hold on to our marriage.”

“Our marriage is over,” she told him, staring stonily out into the hallway.

“’Til death do us part, baby. I remember our vows. Do you?” he retorted, and then he stalked out.

Chapter Seventeen

Cassidy slammed the door and it shut so hard that the walls vibrated. For once she didn’t care about her neighbors’ sensibilities. For good measure, she smashed her fist against the wood, wishing it were Phillip’s face.

How dare he threaten her? He thought he could take their child, keep their house, and force her to pay him child support? She kicked the door, forgetting she didn’t have on shoes. The pain hobbled her and she limped over to a nearby chair, rubbing her abused toes.

Inside her heart a smaller, more intense pain unfurled. Would Phillip actually try to take her child from her? Could the career she loved so much cause her to lose her baby? Cassidy laid a protective hand on her stomach. She’d see Phillip in hell before she gave him their child.

But the baby might not be his
…

She needed to call Chris and find out if what Phillip said was true. Unfortunately, she had a sinking suspicion it was. He was too certain of himself and if he were going to lie, it wouldn’t be about something she could verify with a simple phone call to her lawyer.

Cassidy glanced at the wall clock. It was after nine. Fear said, “Call Chris now!” But even though her lawyer had assured her she could call at any time, she hesitated to intrude on Chris’s personal life with something that could wait until tomorrow. Besides, she wouldn’t give Phillip the satisfaction of knowing he’d put her in a panic.

She could call Max, she mused, and then just as quickly discarded the thought. Max was too involved in this mess as it was and if this divorce morphed into a mudslinging contest, she wanted to keep him out of it.

What she needed to do was determine beyond a shadow of a doubt who the father was. There were accurate and reliable prenatal paternity tests on the market she could take once she was far enough along. Tests that were non-invasive and wouldn’t jeopardize her pregnancy.  But they were expensive. The average cost for the good ones that were admissible in court was sixteen-hundred dollars. Between student loan fees, her apartment, the divorce, and other living expenses, she didn’t have that kind of money to throw around. The last thing she wanted to do was tap into her savings again.

She could ask Max. He’d probably be happy to pay for it, but what if the baby wasn’t his? Worse, what if it was and Phillip followed through on his threat to keep Max’s child from him? Cassidy shuddered, easily imagining the violence that would follow if Phillip did. One of them would end up in jail, or the hospital.

Would it be better to know now and have everything out in the open? Or save money by waiting until the baby was born and the child’s parentage would be undeniably visible? She’d really like to pull the rug out from under Phillip by throwing into his face the knowledge that the child was Max’s. But according to Phillip, it didn’t matter who the baby’s biological father was as long as he was willing to claim it.

Cassidy groaned and slumped in the chair. These mental circles were making her dizzy. The simple truth of the matter was she didn’t know what she should do. Phillip had clearly lost his mind. And Max? Cassidy was beginning to realize under Max’s lazy charm lay an absolute core of steel.

If ever there was a time to call her best friend, this was it.

“No, I can’t go running to Erika every time Phillip throws a monkey wrench in the proceedings.”

Sighing, Cassidy realized she’d be in limbo until after she’d spoken to Chris. Once she knew where she stood, with Chris’s help she could plot a course of action. Deciding she’d had enough stress for one day, she locked up, flipped off the lights, and headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

She brushed her teeth and washed her face. As she toweled dry, she caught a glimpse of her throat and paused. There was something dark on her neck. A small love mark, fading but still very visible. Very recognizable for what it was.

Cassidy remembered Phillip staring fixedly at her neck and broke out into a cold sweat.

She had to warn Max.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mumbled as she raced for her cellphone and dialed his number.

Max answered on the second ring. “Hey, beautiful. Get enough sleep?” he asked in a deep, sexy voice.

“Max, I think Phillip knows,” she warned.