Delaney James was wearing Chanel the night her husband told her he didn't love her anymore.
In an instant, her picture-perfect Manhattan life-complete with a brownstone on the Upper East Side, a blossoming career as a fashion journalist, and a devas...
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I'm at my desk, paperwork spread like a storm around me – my divorce packet, notes on New York State's divorce laws, equitable-distribution charts. On my laptop: property-rights searches, health insurance options, a budgeting plan, and fresh credit card applications. Will never wanted me to have my own accounts. Everything was in his name. Now, with a few clicks of research, I can see just how badly that hurt my credit score.
I flip through the packet on New York divorce law. My lawyer hates that I'm digging in myself, but I need to be prepared. No surprises.
Nico's father referred me to one of the top divorce attorneys in the state. My parents scraped together ten thousand dollars for the retainer, with the understanding I'll pay them back. He's sharp and thorough, but I still can't tell if he's a minnow or a shark—and Will is about to go to war. I'll need a great white.
According to my lawyer, anything acquired during the marriage counts as marital property under New York's equitable-distribution rules—even if it's in Will's name—but premarital assets and inheritances, like his trust fund, are separate property. He also bought the house before the wedding and never added me to the deed, so it's likely his alone.
And my lawyer is already moving to challenge Will's recent stunts—dropping me from his health insurance before filing, emptying our joint account and leaving me penniless, kicking me out of the house and moving another woman in. In New York, judges can order temporary maintenance, freeze accounts, and reinstate insurance coverage while a divorce is pending, so he's petitioning for immediate relief.
New York is primarily a no-fault state, but fault grounds—like adultery—still exist. My lawyer says citing adultery could give us leverage, but it means filing a "fault" divorce and fighting every inch. A no-fault filing would be simpler but requires proving the marriage has been irretrievably broken for at least six months before a judge will grant it. Either way, the process won't be quick, but I'm desperate to start so I can move on.
Two hours of legal jargon later, my hand aches from note-taking, blue ink stains my pinky, and my eyes burn from the screen. A migraine twinges at the base of my skull. I pull off my glasses, press my fingers to my eyes, and drag my hands down my face—
Someone grabs my shoulders.
I jolt. "Shit!"
"It's me."
I look up to find Greyson grinning down at me. "You scared me."
"I'm sorry." He leans over the back of my chair, palms warm against my jaw as he tilts my face up and brushes an upside-down kiss across my lips. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"What are you doing here? I thought I wasn't seeing you until tomorrow."
"That was the plan." His thumb strokes my cheek. "But I missed you."
He slides in behind me, pulling me gently against him. His arms loop around my waist; his mouth finds the slope of my shoulder, then the curve of my neck, each kiss slow enough to make my pulse flutter. I breathe him in, my fingers automatically finding the back of his head, combing through his hair. When his lips graze the hollow beneath my ear, a shiver runs down my spine and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes closing for a heartbeat. Ever since L.A., we can't seem to get enough of each other.
