Worth The Risk [mxm] [temp. hiatus]

2.0 | c

HE WOULD HAVE paid just about anything to leave. It never ceased to amaze him how petty separating couples could be during these mediation meetings. For three agonizing hours and still counting, César had been holed up in his firm's conference room as both the Murrays scrutinized over every minuscule detail within their divorce agreement.

Had he known prior to picking up Nicole's case that the divorce process would have been so nasty, he would have passed it on to a colleague in a heart beat. The couple were at odds for months and gone over time for the fourth week in a row. To César's relief they had finally made it down to the last items under contention—the lawn chairs.

"If I remember correctly, you told me they were hideous. So, why in the hell would I let you keep them?" Nicole spat, shooting her soon to be ex-husband a glare of contempt. She crossed her arms her chest in a defensive stance, showing no indication of letting up.

"I'll be damned if you get to keep all the paintings in the house and the lawn chairs," Richard bellowed as meaty fist struck the oval table that divided them.

It was never about the objects when it came to couples like them. Those hundred-dollar lawn chairs held no true sentimental value to either party. It was merely a means of sending of a message to their asshole of husband or wife. The two had long since forgotten they were in front of spectators and were barking at the other in attempts to get in the final word.

"Richard, get over yourself. You didn't want those paintings either and you know it."

César chose to stay silent to subdue his building desire to tell the quarreling couple where they could take themselves and their damn lawn chairs. They had no consideration for his time, nor the time of the mediator and opposing counsel sitting across from him. The litigation fees he would be getting out of all this weren't even worth it to him anymore.

"I can do this all day, Nicole."

There wasn't a chance in fresh hell he intended on spending another second on what could only be interpreted as purgatory with these two. He was already running late enough as it was. It was after five from the looks of the clock hanging near the exit and he'd made plans to treat his friend, Luisa, to lunch as a thank you for helping him the past weekend.

If Richard's lawyer or the mediator weren't going to put an end to this, he would. They might've been thrilled to be getting paid to sit around, but he sure wasn't. César whipped out his phone and pulled up the lawn chairs in question on the web. As expected, the chairs were still listed and being sold by the original manufacturer. The guy was an absolute asshole, but he had to give him credit— they sure were ugly.

César plunged his phone to the center of the table. "I'm sure the two of you will be pleased to hear that you can find the model in stock at Philosophy. If it's so important, we can arrange for one of you to keep the original set and the other can have a brand new set paid for by the other party."