Anderson
I had expected today to be exhausting, but I hadn’t expected to be sitting in a courtroom, waiting for a woman who lived for drama.
The judge was already irritated, tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently. My lawyer checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes. The opposing lawyer barely masked his frustration, shifting through papers as if the delay was a personal offense.
Kate was late.
Of course, she was.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair as I leaned back in my chair. It wasn’t that I had expected Kate to be eager about finalizing our divorce, but I had expected her to at least show up on time.
Or maybe that was my mistake, by expecting anything from her at all.
I adjusted my tie, ignoring the murmurs of the few reporters seated at the
