November 24, 2017 

2:30pm

The Blanch Law Firm

261 Madison Ave 

New York, NY 10016

It took another month for Tad to open his eyes and three more weeks before he would be able to find his voice again.  I wasn't by his bedside, I didn't call, and I didn't text his mother to find out how he was doing.  Instead, I made it a point to file for divorce the minute I was back in New York.  Despite the hundreds of phone calls and hate letters I would receive regarding Tad's near brush with death, I never caved in, never gave the press a statement forgiving Tad for what he did to me, and managed to stand my ground all on my own.  There were rumors of a civil case looming against me, in fact, I was subpoenaed, and I began looking for another attorney.  Before I could hire one though, the case was suddenly dropped. 

Then the call came.  It was early one morning, around four am New York time, but I knew it was only one am in LA.  I let the phone go to voicemail several times, before the tenth go around came, and I became tired of hiding from him.  I took my chance and answered.
"I'm not ready to talk," I said quietly. 

"Can you give me five minutes, Maggie?" 

Tad's voice was scratchy and weak, and I knew he still hadn't fully recovered.  The intimidation that had been in his voice since we got married was missing though, and I started to let my guard down just slightly.  I thought maybe I owed him five minutes to explain himself, even though I hated what he did.  "I just...I don't want to get into anything with you, Tad.  I've been through enough, and you know what you did."

"I'm not...I'm not going to put anything on you, Maggie.  I just want a chance to explain things, if there's any chance of doing that in a way you can understand.  I've been messed up for a really long time, and...I wish that I could have kept a level head for you, because you deserved the best part of me, not this part.  Never this part.  I need help, and I told the DA everything yesterday.  He said if you don't decide to file charges, I can go to a rehab center to try and get myself sorted out."
It wasn't an apology call, and I laughed bitterly into the phone.  He was calling me before the DA could, so he could avoid a trial, and possibly keep his career in check.  "You're looking to dodge a trial and keep the media out of this.  You realize they're still pointing the finger at me right?"

"Maggie look..."

"I was in prison," I said harshly.  "They were trying to tell people that I did that to you on purpose, and no one from your family came to my defense.  The only reason...god...the only reason why I'm free right now is because Justin stood in as my council and fought to get my charges thrown out of court.  Why the hell should I not file charges, Tad?  You made me live in terror...everyday."

"I don't feel good about it.  I just want to move on."

"No.  Just forget it.  You can deal with what I've been dealing with."  I began to pull the phone from my ear so I could hang up on him.

"I can pay.  I'll agree to whatever divorce agreement you put together, Maggie.  Just please...please just let me have my life back.  I promise I won't contact you again.  I'll put the blame on me.  My publicist will put together a statement putting me at fault, but telling everyone I'm seeking help.  No one will blame you for this anymore.  If anything, they'll sympathize and you won't have a problem getting back to work."

I'm not a vindictive person.  Mostly, I'm too nice for my own good, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to have Hannah Monroe's balls and tell him that I wasn't going to back down.  I started to think about what pressing charges against him would really be doing for me.  Getting revenge? I had never been about that.  I couldn't help but think that Tad really did need more than a prison sentence to correct himself.  He needed professional help instead of a prison cell and I wasn't heartless enough to cast that aside just to give him a taste of what he'd put me through.  

"I'll have my lawyer put something together."

"Maggie..." He let out a huge sigh.  "I can't thank you enough.  You have no idea..."

"If I find out that you put your hands on anyone else, I'll make sure you pay for it."

I hung up on him.  He didn't call back.  A week later my attorney contacted his with my demands, and I overnighted my wedding band and engagement ring to his mother.  I received possession of our condo in Los Angeles, which I quickly sold for the cash, along with a Porsche convertible, which is currently parked in my buildings garage in midtown.  I bought a bigger place with the sale of the condo and my old apartment put together, a small penthouse in midtown that overlooks Rockerfeller Center worth a little over a million dollars.  I like to sit by the window most days after work, looking over casework and the people milling around down below.  It comforts me, makes me feel like I'm a part of something, since I'm completely on my own now.

My family worries about me. My sister came to stay with me for a couple of weeks after I got settled back in New York, but having her around was more bothersome than comforting.  All she wanted me to do was get out of the house and meet new people, possibly find a new boyfriend.  It was the last thing I wanted.  I told her that too, perhaps a little too harshly, and a couple of days later, she was on her way back to Boston.

We talk on the phone sometimes, but not often enough.  For awhile I was close to her and my parents, but now I avoid my family like the plague because I'm not up to talking about the last four months of my life or what happened between Tad and I in Los Angeles.  My father sent me a text last week, putting in a last ditch effort to invite me to Thanksgiving, but I simply declined, and he didn't push me.  I spent yesterday alone, at the window, watching the Macy's parade floats drift by my window, getting lost in their fantasy as I ate my microwaved Boston Market turkey dinner I'd gotten the night before on the way back from the office.  I caught up on some pending casework, and it made me content enough.  I was happy not to be living in fear of Tad's explosive behavior for once.  It should have been enough.

But then my mind would drift back to Justin, and I couldn't help but wonder how his first Thanksgiving with his baby was going, and if he was finally happy being with Hannah.  I caught a glimpse of her on Live! A couple of weeks back.  She's having a lavish winter wedding at the Ritz Carlton, and the details are all the rage of the show.

I couldn't know for sure how Justin was doing.  She barely mentioned him, and it bothered me enough to take a sleeping pill and pass out.
He cut me off abruptly once I was released from prison.  Too abruptly, considering how intense our prison consultations had been.  I figured he would have been the one to contact me about my release, but instead a corrections officer simply came and escorted me to processing.  When I got to the hotel, I called because I thought he would have wanted to at least say goodbye, but he rushed me off the phone.  I haven't heard from him since that day, and I wish...I wish I knew the whole reason.
I mean, was it really because I walked out on him that morning at the W?  I want to believe it, but at the same time, he did enough fucked up things to me in our relationship for me to do that same thing...cut him off for good, but I never did.  Every chance encounter always led me back to a  friendship with him, sometimes more.

I wish I could get one more chance, just to say goodbye properly.  I know he's still at the firm, but I feel it wouldn't be right to corner him on the phone at work.

Maybe this is it.  Maybe he just needed to move on, and be done with our whole thing.

I want to be done with him.

But something aches inside of me, constantly.

It's Black Friday here at the office, and while the entire staff is off enjoying their holiday weekend, I'm here, in the dark, putting in some overtime on a few cases that I feel need some extra love.  After submitting several applications once Tad made his statement, and going in for several interviews, I was offered a partnership with The Blanch Law firm.  We handle criminal justice cases for clients of all types, and I find the work more rewarding than corporate law or entertainment law.  I'm the only woman partner in the firm, but the other lawyers treat me with respect, and the rest of the staff is wonderful. I'm not stressed here, and I'm able to pick the cases I want to handle.  I guess that's why I don't mind working all this overtime.  It keeps my mind off how lonely I am.

Around three, my stomach starts to growl louder than it has been since noon, so I decide to give in and call it a day after ten hours at my desk.  I take the elevator down and walk out on to the crowded city sidewalk, getting jostled in between people walking and tourists staring blankly in the decorated retail windows and up at the huge skyscrapers.  I'm glad my restaurant of choice is only a couple of blocks walk from the office.  Morini, an Italian restaurant that is owned by one of my partners son in law's, has become one of my favorite go to places in the city recently. Naturally, when I walk in it's packed full of people, but the maitre d' recognizes me with a smile, and puts me in a secluded section at the back of the house, where only a few scattered, most likely elite couples, are seated for a quiet lunch.

Paradise.

I order my trademark Pinot Noir, and a salad, then hightail it to the restroom. Naturally, there's a line.  I've never understood why women take so much longer than men in the restroom.  

Fucking tourists.

I turn, deciding to hold it, and walk right into a man coming out of the bathroom.

"Shit, sorry.  My fault."

 He grips my upper arm gently before I can fall backward, and pulls me close to him.  I laugh slightly as he lets go, and look up to thank him.

Justin is staring back at me.

 "Maggie?"

He's taken back, shifting himself up against the wall beside the men's room door.  For a moment, all we can seem to do is stare at each other.  He's dressed in a wool sweater and khakis, normal, but the stubble and intense bags under his eyes aren't.  I want to run away, and I'm guessing he does too, but neither of us move.

"Hi." I look at the floor.  

"I um...I have to get back to the...are you eating here?"  He glances down the hall that leads back to the dining area with wide, fearful eyes.

"I was planning to." I roll my eyes.  "Should I not?"

"I mean..."  He looks back at me with a pathetic gaze.  "It might be better...you know, Hannah...just...it might be uncomfortable."

"You're fucking ridiculous.  I don't give a damn if Hannah is here.  What does it matter?"  

"Maggie," he croaks, and his eyes grow sad, lifeless really.  "Please."

I stare at him, bewildered.  It's like...he's afraid.  But why?  "Are you scared or something?"

"I...no...just..."

"Justin? Justin are you coming? Your parents just got here and we're trying to get started..."

Hannah comes around the corner then, accompanied by a large man in a professional looking suit who I can only assume is a hired bodyguard.  He has an earpiece, which lets me know he's not the only one supervising their luncheon today. Hannah is holding a little baby in her arms that's resting it's head against her chest.  She has light blond hair like Hannah's that curls like Justin's, with his eyes and nose to match.  I can't help but smile, but when I meet his gaze again, he looks like the wind has just been knocked out of him.

"Well, Maggie."  Hannah boosts the baby up her arms gently, and glances at Justin only slightly before returning her attention to me.  "What a nice surprise."

"Hi Hannah," I nod.  "I ran into Justin on my way to the bathroom.  I was about to have lunch."

"Really." She flashes a fake smile and cocks her head as she looks at Justin.  The guard glares at him intimidatingly, and I swear I see Justin cringe.  "What a chance encounter, honey.  You must be so excited."

The smile on her face quickly disappears, and she retreats back to the dining room without another word.

"Let's go," The guard grunts it at him, almost commandingly, and retreats off after Hannah.

"I have to go."  Justin stares at the man's backside and shakes his head roughly as a deep expression of regret appears on his face.

"Who is that guy?" I whisper.  

"Just stay away from me."  He snaps the words without meeting my gaze, and brushes me aside to meet his fiancé in the dining area. I linger for a few moments, still being able to see them at the end of the hallway.  She starts questioning him angrily, her guard standing just within earshot and Justin seems more apologetic than I ever thought possible.  He tries to take the baby at one point and I watch as the guard pushes Justin back just roughly enough to make him back down, but not draw attention to the scene.  Hannah storms further into the dining area, and he covers his face with his hands, rubbing it harshly for several moments before pulling himself together.  He starts to glance back towards the bathrooms, and I take it as my cue to duck into the ladies room before he can catch me spying.

I lean against the cool tile, panting harshly.  What the hell was that?  Our past aside, I don't get why Hannah would have been so mad at him for simply bumping into me by chance.  And Justin...

Justin has never treated me that way before, even when he wanted to avoid me more than anything else.  There's more to this, but I have no idea what it is, or how I can help him.  Who is that guy? Why does he seem like some kind of prison guard?

It's scaring me.  I want to run to him, take his hand, and get him the hell away from her and whatever crazy shit she's got him roped into.
But I know I can't.  He'd never leave the baby, that's apparent.  That's what Hannah is holding over him, and she's using it to her full advantage.  She has more power now that she's hosting such a popular nationwide show, has access to more than Justin does, despite his status in the legal world.  

It's like he's a prisoner.  

Her prisoner. 

I shudder.