Matthew cut her short. "You what?" His voice was a disbelieving rasp. "You called my friend and told him we wanted a divorce?"
"No. I said I wanted it. But yes," she said with a shrug, unafraid, "that's what I did."
"How dare you contact my lawyer when I knew nothing of this! Are you crazy?"
"Why, yes, darling. That's exactly what I am, crazy. Driven mad by Mr. Chips. At least that's what I'm ready to tell the court, if I decide I'd like more than half. In fact, I think I need to lie down, I'm feeling sort of suicidal again. All the stress I've been under since this happened." She stuck her four-fingered hand out at him.
He smacked it away. "I'll fight you on this, Greta."
"Try. You'll only make matters worse for yourself," she said, kicking the newspapers. "It doesn't matter what they might say about me in the papers. But you, my dear - you better think twice before you make your next move, or it's going to cost you a hell of a lot more than you can afford."
It was true. The press would turn this kind of thing into a circus. He had seen this expression on her face before, this same expression he had once found so alluring, so sure and empowering, so certain of his success, their success. When working on his behalf, this look had once charged him with excitement, confidence. Now he saw the face of his opponent from across the ring, and she looked fanatical in the way she said she was - in the way she would convince the court she was, and possibly all but wipe him out.
He needed time. This was too much to handle right now, especially in light of his change of heart with ICP. He had to make a deal with her, come to some sort of understanding, at least for a short while until he could deal with this properly.
"What about a trial period?" he said. "Just give me a little time, and we'll work out some sort of settlement between us. In the meantime, I'll leave you alone. You can have whatever you need to go away on your own if you'd like. Let's just not do anything hasty. Please, Greta. I'm asking nicely. Just give me some breathing room to sort through this."
She thought for a moment about what Jean-Pierre had told her. First, he was going to travel to France to look at properties for them. That would take some time. And once he found something, she would have to pack, and with all the logistics involved in moving, especially to another country, that too would take awhile. Either way, she would be in California for at least a few more months while she and Jean-Pierre made their plans. There was no real hurry, and, she suddenly realized, they had not even discussed marriage. Would they marry? She felt an unexpected chill along her neck. Perhaps it was best to play it cool, she told herself, while the arrangements for France were being made.