311 Pelican Court - Debbie Macomber [3]
“Yeah,” Zach said sarcastically. “If we got along any better, we might’ve stayed married.”
“You know who to blame for that,” Rosie snapped.
“Yes, I do,” he snapped right back. “How many nights were you actually home? How many dinners did you cook? If you don’t remember, I do. Damn few.”
Sharon sighed audibly. “Okay, the kids come first, and at this point, they have the house, which means Rosie will need to find somewhere else to live for the three days a week when Zach’s staying with them.”
Somewhere else to live? Rosie’s head jerked up as the shock ran up and down her spine. The reality—the repercussions of the judge’s edict—had just started to sink in.
“And pay half the mortgage on the house,” Zach added, smiling at her benignly.
“But I can’t—” Rosie hadn’t realized, hadn’t thought that far in advance. “I don’t have a job yet—how am I supposed to afford an apartment on top of everything else?” This was grossly unfair. Surely Zach could see that such a demand was unreasonable. She had a life, too, and no way of building it if every penny she earned went into paying for two separate residences.
Rosie stared at Zach. He returned her look, unblinking.
“I have a suggestion,” Sharon said.
“Let’s hear it.” Zach’s lawyer sounded eager, if not desperate, for ideas.
“If Zach spends three days a week at the house with the children, then his apartment will sit empty, is that right?” She turned to Zach for verification.
Rosie studied him, too. In essence, Sharon was asking if Zach intended to move Janice into the apartment, Janice and her son, who was the same age as Eddie.
“The apartment will be empty,” Zach said emphatically.
“What if—” Sharon glanced from one to the other “—Rosie moves into the apartment during the time you’re at the house? You did say it was a two-bedroom apartment, didn’t you?”
Objections shot up like weeds in Rosie’s fertile mind. She didn’t want anything to do with Zach. She certainly didn’t want to be put in a situation where she had to deal with being around him or his things—or what had been their things. Nor did she want to be privy to any information regarding his relationship with his girlfriend.
“No way am I letting Rosie in my apartment.” Apparently Zach shared her qualms. “We’re divorced. It took months to get that way. Rosie wanted out and she got her wish.”
“You were the one who moved out,” she reminded him scornfully.
“Correction. You kicked me out.”
“If you’ll recall, you insisted I see an attorney.” She couldn’t believe how convenient his memory was.
Zach snorted and looked at Sharon. “More fool me.”
Rosie’s attorney raised both hands in a pleading gesture. “Listen, it’s just a suggestion—a way of saving money for you both.” She turned to Rosie. “You’ll be fortunate to find a place, even a studio apartment, for less than five, six hundred dollars a month.”
“Zach will have to pay—”
“The hell I will!”
“The divorce is final,” Otto Benson stated. “Zach isn’t responsible for anything more than what’s already been agreed to.”
Rosie’s gaze flew to her attorney, and Sharon reluctantly nodded. All at once, this was more than Rosie could bear. Not only had she lost her husband, but now she was being forced out of her home, too. Moisture welled in her eyes, and she managed to blink it away. Hell would freeze over before she let Zach know what he was doing to her.
A long moment passed before Zach finally spoke. “Okay, I’ll agree to let Rosie stay in the apartment on the days I’m at the house, as long as she’s willing to split the rent.”
Rosie was well aware that she had no choice, but she did have her pride and she was determined to hold on to that. “On one condition,” she insisted, lifting her head.
“Now what?” Zach asked with a long-suffering sigh.
“I don’t want you bringing that woman into the family home. I want our house to be a safe place for the children. In other words, I don’t want Allison and Eddie exposed to your women.”
“What?” Zach glared at her as though she’d spoken a foreign language.
“You heard me,” she said vehemently, meeting his