45. Cade
45
CADE
T he tension is at an all-time high when, for the first time, I walk into Kennedy’s parents’ home for dinner. I brace myself, half expecting some lingering animosity from her dad, despite his apology.
Yet the man surprises me as he pulls me in for a hearty man-hug, letting me know the past is water under the bridge. It’s a relief, knowing Kennedy and I have his blessing.
When Kennedy’s mom swings the door open to the dining room, there he is. Hansi.
“Hansi!” I call, dropping to one knee.
He’s no longer the tiny pup, but a grown dog with a graying muzzle. Ten years is a long time. His big, expressive eyes scan me curiously, not quite recognizing me.
I lean forward. “Come here, buddy.” He tilts his head, assessing me with cautious interest. I reach out a hand, palm up, giving him time to remember.
Slowly, he wiggles toward me, sniffing my hand. I drop to my knees. His tail starts to wag hesitantly, then faster. Finally, it clicks. He leaps into my arms, his small body trembling with joy.
“Missed you too, buddy.” I scratch behind his ears, his favorite spot, feeling a lump in my throat as he nuzzles my neck. The wet nose on my skin is furry, slobbery, and the damn cutest thing. His tail is wagging like crazy, and I laugh and ruffle his fur, getting a happy bark in return.
“He remembers you,” Kennedy says, beaming down at me.
Kennedy’s dad clears his throat. “Cade, why don’t you join me in the study for a moment?” His voice is friendly, without the undertone of suspicion and caution I used to hear when we faced each other in court. I look at Kennedy, not to see if she agrees, but to give her a reassuring wink.
“You’ve got an hour,” Leah Hayes interjects. “At most. By then, dinner will be ready. And, Cade?”
I shift my gaze from Kennedy. “Yes?”
“If he starts going on about fishing, lures, and traps, you don’t have to be polite and listen until your eyes glaze over.” She throws her husband a mock stern look. “Just a heads-up, dear,” she says to her husband, who just shakes his head, but an almost-smile keeps slipping through.
The two of them are a well-oiled team, but what impresses me is the loving way they interact even after so many years of marriage. It feels like a glimpse into the future, seeing Kennedy and me with our daughter bringing home her boyfriend. I can’t help grinning inside because one thing is for sure: I’d be just as skeptical as John Hayes was. If not worse.
His study is cozy and unmistakably masculine. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, and an antique mahogany desk with claw feet dominates the window wall. In one corner are well-worn leather armchairs that are as comfortable as they look.
“Cade,” the judge begins once we’re seated in them. With a desk like that, it’s impossible not to think of John Hayes as “the judge” again. “I want to build on the progress we’ve achieved so far. Our conversation was a good start, but there’s more to be done. Witnessing Kennedy’s happiness with you has given me reason to reflect. I’d like to take the time to get to know you better.”
“I appreciate your desire to continue building on our progress,” I reply, though it feels damn strange when your future father-in-law announces that he wants to “get to know you” instead of just doing it.
“I’ve realized that the two of you were right. I never really gave you a fair chance.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“John,” he corrects me. “We’re family now, Cade.”
Somehow, it feels oddly fast, but I can definitely feel the weight of the past starting to lift from my shoulders. “I really appreciate that.”
He leans back in his chair. “Since my wife has strictly forbidden me to talk about fishing, why don’t you tell me something about yourself, Cade? What drives you? What are your hobbies?”
I must have misheard. Did the judge really just ask about my hobbies? “Well, sir—John. Why don’t you tell me about fishing instead? I’d rather not feel like I’m on the witness stand being cross-examined. I won’t tell your wife,” I add.
His eyes light up, and suddenly, the judge—Kennedy’s stern, overprotective father—is a man driven by a deep love of nature, who has found balance in fishing. In almost poetic terms, he tells me about early mornings on misty lakes, the thrill of baiting, and the endless patience required to land a big fish. I listen attentively and with genuine interest as he reveals more about himself than he realizes. When he eventually confides, in a whisper, that he only uses catch-and-release lures and immediately returns fish to the water, I finally relax.
“Have you ever gone fishing?” he asks eventually.
“Once. When I was very young, maybe five or six, my grandfather took me. That was the only time. I couldn’t grasp why I had to sit still for hours staring at a lake just to catch a fish, which I found pretty gross at the time.” I’m still not a fan of fish or other sea creatures in general. Not even on my plate. “But my grandfather always said there was nothing better for clearing your head.”
“Your grandfather was a wise man.”
“Because he never took me fishing again, or because he found fishing soothing?” I joke.
For a moment, John looks puzzled. Then he leans forward slightly in my direction. “Maybe we can go fishing together sometime.”
From a man like the judge, this invitation feels like a knightly accolade.
“How about next weekend?” I ask.
He stands up, hurries to his desk, and retrieves a thick, bound calendar from a drawer. Then he starts checking his schedule. Apparently, what they say about retirees is true. They’re always on the go, because he barely has a free day in the next five weeks. We finally agree on a Saturday six weeks from now.
From that moment on, there’s no awkwardness in our conversation. We talk about mutual acquaintances from the courthouse and discuss the most interesting cases from the past few months. John admits that the years he spent at the family court were the toughest of his life. “Seeing those children and knowing they were practically doomed to follow in their criminal parents’ footsteps was hell.”
We fall silent.
His words seep in.
“You know, Cade,” he finally says, “after your trial against Herron, I began to understand what you achieved. Losing your parents and still becoming one of the most respected litigators in New York is an outstanding accomplishment. I wish I’d had the courage to admit my mistake sooner.”
I shake my head. “As far as I’m concerned, the past is the past. Let’s not dwell on what we could have or should have done differently. That does no one any favors… not you, not me, and certainly not Kennedy.”
There’s a knock, and the woman of the hour (and the woman of my entire life) peeks into the room. Hansi is with her and seizes the opportunity to run over, well, hurriedly trot over, and deliver his signature wet-nosed nudge.
“Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Are you coming?” She looks from her father to me and back, and what she sees seems to please her. She flashes a mischievous smile, and I can tell that I’ll have to recount every detail of our conversation to her, word for word, once we’re alone.
The three of us—no, the four of us—head to the dining room and sit down at the table set for dinner.
Hansi sits at my feet the entire evening.
Suddenly, I have more than just in-laws: I have a family. Mom, Dad, a dog, everything. It’s surreal, but comforting. With Kennedy by my side, the future looks brighter than ever.
Hiring your ex at the firm? That’s a plot twist I never saw coming.
Talk about mixing oil and water and hoping for champagne. Yet here we are, clinking glasses.
Cheers to unexpected endings.
Case closed. Closure secured. On to the next challenge.