Brandon Whitcomb Asked for a Divorce Before the Sun Came Up, but One Bank Document Turned Everything Around

The coffee shop on Main Street had only two other customers when I walked in at two o’clock.

Brandon was already sitting at a table by the window, his leather wristwatch lying on the table next to his coffee cup.

I laid the folder down and pulled out the chair across from him.

“You wanted to meet up,” I said.

“I wanted to talk about the custody schedule.” He tapped the face of his watch.

“I’ve got a conference call at three.”

I opened the folder and pushed the first page across to him.