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“Keep an eye out for properties,” I grumbled. This is something that should’ve made me happy. I should’ve been positively gleeful. After all, a wealthy man just admitted that he wanted to buy more real estate from me. This meant I could pay the bills. It’s not like he had me jumping through hoops. Nope. Show a property. Make a sale. Dammit. Why was I so angry?

I stared at the two framed pictures on my desk. One was of Penelope, taken several months ago at the end of the previous school year. Already, I could see how she’d grown and soon I’d have to replace the photo. The other, in a matching silver frame, was my dream house. I’d been longing for this place for so long, I couldn’t imagine never owning it.

Max could be the key to my future, if I could just keep playing nice. I sighed. That meant I’d have to work through this animosity, which seemed to flare up once again when I thought of Bre. I couldn’t possibly be jealous of someone I’d never met, could I? I frowned as I worked through my thoughts.

My cell phone ringing made me feel much worse. After all, I knew from the damn ringtone my ex-husband was on the other end. “What do you want, Joe?” I didn’t even try to hide my frustration. As I studied my calendar for the week, I realized I was going to have to make a day trip to Seattle over the weekend to show a couple of condos. I didn’t relish the drive or time away from Penelope during the school year. Every minute was precious, but keeping her fed and clothed was a priority too.

“You know, you might want to be nicer to me,” he grumbled. “After all, I’ve been talking to my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer, Joe. Lawyers cost money, and since you’re delinquent on child support due to claims of poverty, and have always defended yourself, I’m going to remind you, yet again, that you don’t have one.” I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my forehead. This guy should’ve come with a warning label. A big fat Mr. Yuck sticker on the back of his shoulder would’ve helped me avoid so much pain. I glanced at the picture of Penelope again. Of course, I’d never do anything that might alter her existence. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

“Yes, I do. I was talking to Rueben Marshalls the other day…”

I cut him off. “Rueben? Your drinking buddy, Rueben?” I tapped my pen on the desk loudly while I awaited his response.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. That Rueben.”

“Okay. Again, unless you had some sudden windfall and decided to give some to him as a retainer instead of betting on black or whatever the hell you actually do to lose so much goddamn money at a casino, then he’s not your lawyer.” I slapped my desk in frustration.

“Yes, he is.” Joe complained. “He said he’d be happy to represent me.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Of course, he’s a lawyer. He’d love to get your money, but…reality check, you don’t have any! And for the final time, sitting beside the guy at a bar does not make him your lawyer any more than me selling a house to a professor gets me a PhD. Got it?”

“He used the word pro bono. Does that make him my lawyer yet?” Joe grumbled.

My blood actually froze in my veins. “Did you sign any paperwork?” I sat silent while I awaited his response.

“Not yet. I’m supposed to go to his office this afternoon.” Suddenly, he sounded smug and I was scared.

“What do you need a lawyer for?” I asked him, hoping I sounded more tired than terrified.

“You’re gone all the time. You work long hours. I want full custody. So there.” He sounded supremely proud of himself.

“You want full custody? You can’t even pay your own bills. How do you expect to pay for everything a growing child needs?” I struggled not to shriek. I wanted to scream. Hell, if we were in the same place, I’d be seriously shaking some sense into him right about now.

“You’ll pay me child support.” I could hear the mirth in his voice.

I wasn’t a violent person, but if I saw Joe anytime soon, and I was in my car, I’d treat him as a speedbump. If he was on fire and I had a glass of water, I’d drink it. And if he asked for my help fitting new shoes, I’d have them made of cement. Yeah, I was that mad.

Standing, I began to pace in front of the window, hoping the change of scenery and the motion would calm me, but it wasn’t working. “Let me see if I get this right. Try and keep up.” I took a deep breath and exhaled before starting again. “You gamble away all of my life savings.”

“Our life savings,” he corrected.

“Did you contribute to it?” I challenged.

“No,” he muttered.

“Then that makes it mine,” I growled. “You stole the money. You’ve never replaced a dime. You tricked our daughter into stealing from me. When she stopped, you didn’t even want to see her anymore. Does this sound right so far?”

He sighed. “I suppose that’s the way you’d spin things.”

I stopped pacing and froze. “Then let me see if this sounds right. When you left, I was struggling to make ends meet. I had to work longer hours. I had to pay for child care. You never paid child support. And now, you want to punish me for doing everything I could to recover financially with no help from you by taking away my daughter?”

“Our daughter,” he corrected.

“Those genes mean nothing!” I screamed. “Fathers help care for their kids, physically, mentally, and financially.”

“We’ll see what the judge has to say,” Joe hissed.

“I guess we will. See you in court!” Then I ended the call, missing the days I could’ve slammed down a receiver. That would have been far more cathartic.