Binding Arbitration by Elizabeth Marx

Author:Elizabeth Marx [Marx, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781477470732
Google: HlxbLwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1477470735
Goodreads: 15722233
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2011-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

23

BROKEN RECORDS

Fifty years from now I’ll be just three inches of type in a record book. Brooks Robinson

Aidan 1:45 p.m.

“I looked into having the Dissolution of Parental Rights rescinded, and it can be done, but it would take longer than a simple adoption,” Fletch said. “Especially once we demonstrate to the court that Aidan is the child’s biological father.” He consulted me with a look. “I think this is something the two of you should talk about alone.”

Fletch slipped away, and Libby didn’t say goodbye. I focused on calibrating her reaction. I was rubbing my thumb across her palm. I stared into her blazing green eyes and willed words to come to me. “Libby?” It wasn’t a name anymore, but an oath. We stood on the edge of a precipice, and if I moved the wrong way, I was afraid of where we’d land.

She closed her eyes and I watched her take in oxygen on gulping whimpers. “You want to buy Cass away from me?”

“Babe, drink this.” I handed her a full glass of wine. “Better yet, let’s go for a walk.”

“I need to get away from you. Far away,” she said.

I settled the check, and then helped her out of the booth. “I promise you everything is going to be good from here on out.” Our bodies collided when I didn’t step out of her path. The physical connection went through me and settled in an organ that wasn’t best used for thinking.

As we walked toward Michigan Avenue at a clipped pace, the El screeched in the distance; the metal-on-metal scraped as the train turned two stories up. I pulled her through the pedestrian crosswalk while she made a feeble attempt at wrenching away.

I considered a stroll through Millennium Park, but her uncooperative stride told me it might be time to spill my guts. Instead, I started up the stairs of the Art Institute. She stumbled behind me, not paying attention until I reached the top of the stairs and looked down on the pair of oxidized lions which guarded the entrance, ‘Stands in an Attitude of Defiance’ is on the South end and ‘On the Prowl’ stands to the North, ironic that their names mirrored our dispositions.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“I want to show you where I’m coming from.”

I bought her a ticket, while I fished through my wallet for my yearly pass. We made our way to the security guard, an elderly gentleman with a uniform worn so many years it was now a size too small. “Come to sit with your girlfriend?”

Libby stepped alongside me and the guard took her in with startled milky eyes. “By gosh, now it all makes perfect sense.”

“George, this is Libby. How’s it going today?”

“It had been pretty slow.” He tipped his cap at Libby. “I don’t think anybody’s been in your gallery all day.”

The vintage stairwell opened up to a long red carpeted hallway that galloped along with my increasing heart rate. We entered a dimly lit, unoccupied gallery, where an archway stood on the right.

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