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backed off, putting his hands up.
    “Look,” he said, “obviously this is a bad time.”
    “Are you trying to be funny?” I asked. “Or are you just stupid?”
    “Look, Alex,” Randy said, “take it easy. I’m just tryin’ to get back into my little girl’s life—”
    “That’s not going to happen, Randy,” I said, cutting him off. “You’re not getting back into her life or mine.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself,” he snapped. “I don’t want you; only her. I’m filing for joint custody. I already have a lawyer, and he says I have a good shot.”
    “What kind of a lawyer would tell you that?” I asked. “Didn’t you tell him that you stole my money, left us with nothing?”
    “I didn’t steal—”
    “You stole money from me and from your clients,” I said. “You should be in jail.”
    “I haven’t been convicted of anything, Alex,” he said. “And I didn’t steal money from you. That was our joint account.”
    “Did you have joint accounts with all your clients, too?”
    “They were covered by insurance,” he said. “They all got their money back. Nobody pressed charges.”
    “Really? We’ll just see about that,” I said.
    “You can’t do anything to hurt me, Alex,” he said. “I’m filing for joint custody. You can make it easy or you can make it hard, but it’s gonna happen.”
    “Over my dead body.”
    For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me, and just as quickly I thought he was going to cry.
    “Why are you doin’ this to me, Alex?”
    “W-why am I . . . doing this . . . to you?” I stammered. I was so flabbergasted, I couldn’t speak clearly. “My God, Randy . . . you tried to kill me.”
    “That again?” he snapped. “Stop sayin’ that. I did no such thing!”
    I backed away from his anger, which seemed so genuine, I was stunned.
    “I’ve had enough,” he said, pointing his finger at me. “I just wanted to tell you what I was doin’. You’ll hear from my lawyer.”
    He turned and stormed away. What right did he have to storm anywhere? I watched him get into a new convertible and drive away. A new car? How the hell did he get a new car?
    Surely, there had to be some legal way for me to stop him.
    I turned to go back to my car when I remembered why I was there. I went back inside and found my shopping cart untouched. I exchanged the ice cream for a container fresh from the freezer, and then went to the checkout line. I did my best to ignore the looks I was getting from everyone.

Chapter 17
    I got home from the store with nothing other than pistachio ice cream to serve for dinner. I looked in the cabinets, but was so flustered that I couldn’t think straight. I actually liked to cook—it was sort of a creative outlet for me—but I needed to be somewhat focused. And I definitely wasn’t. So I decided to call a restaurant on the corner that delivered.
    I didn’t know the number, so I dialed 411. But I screwed up. When I heard the lady say “911. What is your emergency?” I remembered what Freud said about mistakes. You know that there really aren’t any. And I realized I was in trouble. Apologizing profusely, I hung up.
    Dinner was going to have to wait. I grabbed an open bottle of red wine and a coffee cup and walked out the back French doors to the dock. The best thing about my home was that it opened up onto a Venice Beach canal. I sat down and just let myself cry as I watched the ducks float by. I’m not sure how long I was out there, but Jakes came crashing out the back door, clearly upset.
    “What are you doing? I was shouting your name. I thought something happened to you.” He looked at me, and seeing I was not okay, asked, “What is it? Is Sarah okay?”
    I pulled him down next to me and shook my head. “Sarah’s fine. Just hold me.” He said nothing, but held my head against his chest and stroked my hair. Not pushing or pressuring me, just letting the lapping of the water on the dock calm me down.
    I finally looked at him, and