“I think I might be too.”
“How much does Marcus Bennet have to do with that?”
I let out a laugh, my cheeks warming up at the mention of Marcus. “Most of it, I think. Not directly. It’s only that being with him opened up some window in me I thought had been painted shut. He makes me brave, and he gives me hope. And I won’t let Mother take that away from me.”
“Remind me to thank him for that, if I ever get a chance.”
“I will.”
“I’m glad you found him, but I’m sorry it’s like this. I’ll cover for you when I can, but there’s only so much I can do. So promise me you’ll be careful. Maybe slow it down a little, take some space. Because she’ll figure it out even if she has to hire somebody to do it for her. Play along. Play her game while you keep your secret. And when all this stuff with the Bennets is over, blow her to smithereens.”
“As if I’m the one with the bazooka.”
“Dating a Bennet isn’t a bazooka. It’s a goddamn nuke,” he said on a laugh as our waitress swung by with our food—a drippy hamburger with fries for Dad and big, fat waffles with whipped cream and strawberry sauce I was one hundred percent sure did not have natural ingredients.
As we tucked into our dinner, I was filled with renewed hope that I could have all that I wanted. I would protect the Bennets. I would walk away from my mother and my legacy and into Marcus’s arms.
And nothing had ever felt so right.
18
Wildfire
MARCUS
The courtroom held its breath.
On his bench, the judge frowned at his hands as he flipped through the paperwork Ben had just given him, outlining all the ways the prosecution had pushed the boundaries of acceptable requests.
No one but our lawyers should have been here—this type of hearing was generally handled by mediators and for exactly the reason we were here in the first place—we were at each other’s throats and unable to make progress on our own. But I’d known Evelyn would insist on being present and that she’d bring Maisie.
And since Maisie was here, I was too.
Thanks to Maisie, we’d known what Bower was doing the second they first started asking for tangential and then irrelevant information. Without the tip, we likely would have gone along with the requests for a little while before more requests filed in. Instead, we’d almost immediately filed a motion for the judge to step in.
And here we were. Whatever the judge decided would determine how the rest of our case would go, including whether or not we’d be financially able to keep fighting.
Maisie sat on the other side of her mother, which kept her out of my view but for the occasional glimpse of her hand or the gold of her hair. The moment she’d walked into the courtroom, a thread plucked between us, the thrum of it still vibrating in my chest. The effort it took not to look at her was so intense, my collar steamed from exertion.
She didn’t seem to be faring any better. On the few glances I allowed myself, she was tense and straight and visibly uncomfortable—a far cry from the soft, smiling girl I knew.
I hated every fucking minute of it.
My shoulders and neck had been coiled for so long, a headache bloomed at the base of my skull, inching its way toward my temples. God, I wished Maisie weren’t here. But Evelyn wouldn’t show up without her, the deep-seated desire to impart her opinions on her daughter predictable at best and cruel at worst.
All I wanted was for this to be over so I could get Maisie out of this room, away from her mother, and into my arms.
The judge closed the folder with that impressive frown still on his face, his eyes sliding to the Bower side of the room. “Can you give me a reasonable explanation as to why you need a deposition from an eighty-year-old vendor who has been retired for fifteen years?”
“A character witness, Your Honor,” Thompson said, slippery as all hell and smiling like Satan himself.
The judge looked bored. “You have fifteen character witnesses already. In fact, you seem to have enough information to put together two cases against the defendant.” He picked up a pen and began to write. “I have given enough concessions to this case, but with this, you have pushed the boundaries of what I will and will not allow in my courtroom. The remaining discovery requests are unnecessary and frivolous. There are no reasonable grounds for requesting records of the net mulch delivery from 2012 to prove the disputed clause of this contract. As such, discovery is from here on considered closed. Mediation will be scheduled for—”
“Excuse me,” Evelyn blustered.
Thompson tried to hush her, but she stood.
“Your Honor, if I may …”
Slowly, the judge raised his eyes to pin her like a bug. “You may not, Mrs. Bower. I suggest you listen to your counsel and sit down.” He didn’t wait for a response before looking back to whatever was on his desk.
Evelyn sat so slowly, she could barely be considered in motion.
“You will schedule mediation with the county clerk within thirty days. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Thompson said.
“Good. Do not waste any more of the court’s time or resources.”
His gavel clacked the block, dismissing us.
He didn’t so much as glance up at us, but Evelyn Bower stared him down so fervidly, I was surprised he didn’t catch fire.
We rose nearly in unison.
“That was fast,” I whispered to Ben as we gathered our things, both of us smiling.
“This is good, very good, exactly what I hoped for. It’s his job to be fair and unbiased, and it’s so deeply ingrained in judges, I’m surprised he let it go this far. Thankfully, he’s not interested in entertaining any more of her requests.”
“No—he seems to be more interested in throwing her out of court. His wife is gonna be pissed.”
We shared a quiet chuckle, turning for the exit without thought.
Momentarily, I’d forgotten that Maisie was right there, right in this very room with me. It had slipped my mind that I could not, under any circumstance, look directly at her for fear that everyone in the room would know every word in my heart, every moment, every kiss that had passed between us.
And that mistake nearly cost me when I found her standing before me.
She was close enough to smell the sweet gardenia soap she was so fond of, walking behind her mother and Thompson as they marched toward the door. But for a protracted moment, we laid eyes on each other with bald honesty, our defenses gone and the truth prone and exposed.
And the enemy pounced.
“Margaret,” her mother said, sharp as a razor.
Evelyn stood in the aisle, her face a mask of impassivity but for her accusatory eyes, twin coals flaming in her skull.
She’d made no demand with words, but Maisie’s name and Evelyn’s tone directed her to get the fuck out of the room.
Maisie scuttled toward the exit without another look in my direction.
Evelyn dragged a long gaze up and down my body as if she were seeing me for the first time. It was not salacious but scrutinizing, that gaze, and I rose beneath it to meet her.
“What a show,” she said blithely. “I didn’t believe you’d put up a real fight, Mr. Bennet. Color me impressed. But I hope you don’t get too comfortable. I’d hate for you to be disappointed.”