“So, if we died, El-Mudad might never see Olivia again.” My mouth went dry and metallic.
“That would be up to her legal guardians, who would very likely be her other grandparents unless you’ve taken precautions to secure his guardianship,” Andrew confirmed. “Even then, they might drag you into court, El-Mudad.”
Neil scrubbed a hand over his mouth. I could almost see his brain doing frantic computations behind his eyes. “What can we do?”
Andrew pulled something out of the folder and passed it across the desk to Neil. It was a magazine clipping with the words “polyamorous” and “precedent” in the headline. I could barely hear the lawyer’s words over my sudden tinnitus. “In the state of New York, a judge can appoint more than two legal guardians for a child. El-Mudad, if you wanted to, you could adopt Olivia.”
“Adopt?” Neil repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before.
“I’m not a citizen,” El-Mudad clarified. “I’m not sure I can adopt here legally.”
“It’s tricky, but it can be done. Money moves mountains. I don’t have to tell you that. The issue with adoption is that they could challenge your petition. And from what I understand of the situation, they almost certainly will?” Andrew glanced to Neil for confirmation, which he received in the form of a short nod. “The good news is that the onus would be on them to prove that you’re unfit. A closed investigation is going to pit their word against the State’s.”
The word of an abused woman and her abuser.
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I debated whether or not I should tell them now. It would be pertinent information. I had to tell them. But here, in front of a stranger who was all business? Who might see that predicament as some kind of gain?
That wouldn’t be fair to her.
“One thing you need to understand is that down the road, should this relationship dissolve…” the attorney spread his hands.
“I believe I understand what you’re insinuating.” Neil leaned slightly forward. “In the unlikely event that one of us should leave the relationship, we would revise custody arrangements at that time. None of us would ever lose access to Olivia and her well-being is always our priority.”
“Then I’d say this would be a viable option for the three of you. Take a few days to think it over. Remember, right now, you have no legal obligation to continue visitation.” He offered us a business card, which El-Mudad pocketed. “If you have any questions or if social workers or the police contact you, call that number. That’s my private line, twenty-four hours.”
Neil half-smiled and tilted his head. “And what is the retainer for this concierge-level service?”
El-Mudad and I made eye contact, silently passing judgment on the appropriateness of Neil’s flirting.
Andrew laughed and...blushed? “What’s that old saying? If you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it?”
Neil grinned. “I assure you, I can afford it.”
El-Mudad scoffed softly and tried to pass it off as a cough.
“And if you couldn’t, El-Mudad could,” I said sweetly. “He has a lot more money than you do.”
“Perhaps we should set up a joint account,” El-Mudad said dryly.
Chastened, Neil rose and shook Andrew’s hand in the most professional manner possible. “Thank you. My financial manager will be in contact by the end of the business day.”
“I look forward to getting all of this cleared up for the three of you,” Andrew assured us as he held the door.
We were silent until we got into the elevator, and the doors closed, when Neil said, “Did anyone else think he might have fancied me?”
“Don’t,” El-Mudad warned.
Chapter Eight
The ride back to the penthouse was the most prolonged, intense silence I’d ever experienced in my life.
El-Mudad could adopt Olivia.
He could be her father.
Michael is her father! Rekindled grief howled at me. But Michael was dead. Michael wasn’t an option. And the answer seemed so simple.
And so complicated. Laurence and Valerie would likely make the already pretty grueling process way, way worse. Sure, Valerie and Laurence would bear the burden of proof that we were unfit guardians and our state had been one of the first to recognize polyamorous custody rights, but we had no guarantee that we would find a sympathetic judge. Our goal wasn’t to keep Olivia away from Valerie. We just didn’t want to lose her entirely.
Neil and El-Mudad sat beside each other, across from me in the back of our Mercedes-Maybach Pullman, the name of which I could only remember because it certainly felt like the size of a railroad car. They faced away from each other, staring out their respective windows.
We pulled up in front of the penthouse and staggered out as if we’d been on a long road trip, rather than a twenty-five-minute drive downtown. I clutched my purse like a life preserver up the elevator and into the apartment.