“It looks like an affair. Doesn’t matter what it is. Fight to uphold the prenup, Moira gets called in.”
“So the prenup gets thrown out,” I say, firmly.
“I’m not sure you get it, Seb. You guys… You’re both going to lose because of the way you split your business. This is not good.”
“All right, so why don’t we hold off another week,” I tell her. “I’m going to talk to Moira—she’s not available this week, anyway—and we’ll figure out the financials. Let’s just hold off. We’ll take the weekend. Ashley’s not pushing for the divorce anyway.”
“She will be if she finds out about this,” Carrie states. “Cha-ching. She’ll sign those papers so fast your head will spin if she knows the prenup’s tossed. Oh, Griff.” She sighs, burying her face in her hands. “You’re not even going to be able to afford me when this is over.”
“He’ll be fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
Looking up and wagging her finger between us, she asks, “How does this work? Are you two…?”
“We’re not here to fill up your spank back, Carrie. Unless we get a discount for that,” I add, half-jokingly.
“We’re not pieces of meat,” Griff agrees. “God.”
I grin.
Carrie shakes her head at both of us. “Well, you assholes are in rare form. Men in your positions shouldn’t—” She stops and snorts. “Your positions. Sorry.”
“You’re 12,” I inform her.
Eyebrows rising, she says, “Not according to my present thoughts. I’m just saying. Who’s the bottom?”
“He would obviously be the bottom,” I state.
“What? Like hell I would,” Griff replies.
“I sure as hell wouldn’t. I don’t have it in me to be a bottom.”
“Maybe you’d have it in you if you let Griff be the top,” Carries fires back.
I roll my eyes. “Are we done here?”
“In all seriousness, if you ever do get divorced now, Moira’s fucked. Of course, after Griff’s divorce you guys are going to lose half your fucking money anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Of course Griff climbs up on his white stallion and demands, “What do you mean, Moira’s fucked?”
“Sebastian has the non-idiot version of an infidelity clause. Wife cheats, she gets nothing. Husband cheats, no penalty. If she’s fucking you, she invalidated the generous terms we gave her. She doesn’t get shit.”
“This is irrelevant,” I state.
“I don’t like that,” Griff states. “You should change that. That’s not fair. She isn’t cheating.”
“We’re not getting a fucking divorce,” I state, beginning to lose my patience. “I’m not going to pay to change terms in a prenup that will never come up in a divorce I’m never going to file for. Jesus Christ. Are we done? I want to go home.”
Griff and Carrie talk for a couple more minutes about shit that’s never going to matter, but since I can’t volunteer that information, I don’t say anything. Might as well burn a few more minutes of billable time—this will all be over with soon enough, and we won’t have to do this shit anymore.
After shaking hands and agreeing to meetings no one will need to have next week, Griff and I leave.
As we walk down the corridor outside Carrie’s office, he tells me, “Well, that was weird.”
I slap him on the back. “It’s almost over. Hang in there, buddy.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then a little lower he mutters, “It’s gonna be expensive.”
“We’ll make more money,” I say, simply. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something that popped up on my radar. Remember that retail space I had my eye on? Price went down. We should drive by on the way home; I’ll show it to you. I want to buy it while it’s cheap. We can rent it out and make a killing.”