That night, after the kids were asleep, I sat at Peter’s kitchen table trying to think.
“I don’t have anything,” I said. “Your son made sure of that.”
Peter sat across from me.
“You have your kids,” he said.
“That’s what he’s trying to take.”
My FIL didn’t respond right away. Then he said something I didn’t expect.
“If you want to protect yourself… and the kids… You need to marry me.”
I stared at him. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“But that doesn’t even make sense.”
“Legally, it does. I can file to adopt them.”
I shook my head. “Peter, you’re 67.”
“And you’re their mother. That’s what matters.”
Sean and I’s divorce didn’t take long.
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