Chapter 10 – Rhiannon
Two weeks later, I’m in the District Courthouse in New York City, suffocating in a suit that I haven’t worn since college back when I weighed twenty pounds less and thought I’d never need to dress up for anything more serious than a presentation on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
Who knew the next time I’d wear this suit would be because of a suit—specifically, one filed against me over a few simple social media posts.
I’d hoped the whole thing would quietly disappear like Leo said it would. That Madison, Matt and their legal dream team over at Prescott & Associates would realize how ridiculous it all was. But no such luck.
They pushed it forward, and now I’m sitting in a courthouse instead of behind a screen, talking to my clients and giving relationship coaching, trying to pretend this isn’t my personal nightmare.
Leo keeps saying they don’t have a case. Easy for him to say, he’s been sued before and always got off. I haven’t. And my valiant attempt to keep this from Gabriel and Eden lasted right up until this morning, when panic turned my room into the aftermath of a retail explosion.
I tore through every piece of clothing I own, looking for something that said, ‘I’m innocent,’ without also screaming, ‘I just have great humor and like providing alternative perspectives!’
Eden eventually stormed in, took one look around, and decided for me.
According to her, my best and only option was this bright red, two-piece suit with a black lace camisole underneath.
I wasn’t convinced, but I put it on anyway.
And now here I am sweating through polyester, trying not to slip out of the only pair of black heels I own that don’t make me look like I moonlight at a strip club.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, I might hit one up after this if I win. Celebratory wings and a spin on the pole with Leo sound fun.
It’s late-October now, and the city’s cooled down, but the temperature inside of the courthouse is unbearable.
I wonder if a judge or other employee who works here has a circulation problem and requires the whole place to be as warm as two teenagers hot boxing a car. Red suit was not the right choice.
I tug at the fire-engine colored jacket sleeves while sweat beads at the nape of my neck.
“Leo!” I call out, spotting my best friend and stand-in lawyer across the crowded courthouse lobby. I wave obnoxiously, probably drawing more attention than I should and eliciting a few judgy glares from the other Suits that are rushing around the place with their clients.
He sees me immediately and strides over, his eyes doing an exaggerated once-over of what I’m wearing while he dramatically mouths “wow.”
“Interesting choice. Is this one of your sexy admin outfits from back in college?” he teases, referencing the very brief stint I spent as an administrative assistant for my statistics professor freshman year.
Did I have a crush on him? Yes.
Was he also twenty years older than me and a divorced, single dad? Also, yes.
It was an age gap romance waiting to happen that fizzled before it could even start.
“No. Wait. You wore this for Halloween one year, didn’t you?”
“No, smartass. It’s the only professional thing I own. All my consults are virtual these days, so I’ve only had to dress from the waist up for years.”
He arches a brow. “So… do you do your sessions in your underwear?”
“Usually.” I grin. Or Cain’s boxers.
Leo laughs, the sound light and reassuring, before pulling me into a quick hug.
“Well, I think you look hot in it. But let’s hope the judge doesn’t think you’re trying out for a Jessica Rabbit look-alike contest instead.”
I gasp extra dramatically, placing my hand over my chest. “Do you think I’m as beautiful as Jessica Rabbit?"
He grips my shoulders, holding me back like he’s examining the outfit again. “Eh, maybe more like Elastigirl.”
“Okay, being compared to one of The Incredibles before I sit in front of a judge isn’t reassuring. Even if she has a nice ass.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Look, I know you’re freaking out and doing that thing where you deflect into humor so that you don’t have to focus on the present. But don’t worry. We’re fine. When have I ever let you down?”
“The seven hundred texts that I sent you over the past week didn’t make me seem super chill and cool about all this?”
He grins, then leans in conspiratorially. “We’re filing a motion to dismiss. They don’t have a case, and they know it. The judge will drop it when he reviews the details. This whole thing is a waste of everyone’s time.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Then why are we even here?” I gesture dramatically to the courthouse, the red suit, the painful high heels, the entire ordeal that has been causing me to lose sleep and wreck my nerves for weeks now.
I don’t usually stress about much—mostly because if I sat down and thought about all the things I should be worrying about, I’d never get anything done.
Every morning all I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and making it through the day until I collapse back in my bed.
So, most days I do what Leo always says I do: deflect with humor, make a joke, and somehow scrape my way through life with little to spare.
But this morning? Different story.
Once Eden figured out what I was up to, she ran straight to Gabriel, who immediately looked like he was one deep breath away from a full-blown panic attack. He told me to update him the second everything was over, which only made my own anxiety spike through the roof.
Because this isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about them. My family. And if there’s one thing I refuse to do, it’s screw up in a way that drags them down with me. I’ve done that before. I won’t do that again.
“Because” Leo says, his tone perfectly dry, “some people just love to sue. I heard through the grapevine that Madison and Matt’s lawyer is some big shot who represents a lot of other social media influencers and famous people.
I’m sure he’s just doing his job,” Leo murmurs as we walk toward the courtroom where our case is being heard.
“But don’t stress. You don’t have to say a word. They’ll call me and their lawyer up, we’ll file to dismiss, and that’ll be the end of it.”
I nod, trying to trust his calm reassurance. He might be a public defender with a much different caseload than this most days, but Leo has never steered me wrong. If he says he’s got this, I trust him completely.
We move into the courtroom, and I look around nervously. The room is smaller than I expected, almost claustrophobic and nothing like the court cases that I watched in preparation for this.
And yes, I watched multiple episodes of Suits prior to this court appearance so that I’d know exactly how to act. Most of the time was spent drooling over Harvey Specter.
The room is full of empty rows of wooden benches save for a single, blonde woman sitting up front.
From behind, she looks just like Madison.
A purple, gem covered headband, and curls that fall just past her shoulders.
I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate coming face to face with her today, but here we are.
No going back now. At least Matt isn’t here with her.
I avert my eyes quickly and follow Leo to the defendant’s section, trying to hide in his big shadow and settling in as discreetly as possible and without drawing her attention. I’m not sure if it worked, but I’m not going to check.
Moments later, the judge enters, an older man with a stern face and wire-rimmed glasses. He takes his seat, surveying the room that’s practically empty as Madison stands, her voice overly chipper.
“Um, hello, honorable judge, my lawyer just pulled in,” she says, glancing at the clock. “He’s running a minute late.”
The judge’s gaze drops over the rims of his glasses, unimpressed.
“We don’t wait for latecomers,” he states firmly.
I bite my lip and send up a prayer. Wouldn’t it be nice if their lawyer didn’t show and the whole thing got tossed? But alas, things rarely work in my favor.
Before the judge can continue to berate Madison for her tardy legal representation, the courtroom doors swing open with a loud creak that’s almost theatrical, and a man strides in, cooly, confidently, and with a certain charm that if the room were full, would cause everyone to snap to attention.
And I would know because my neck just about snapped looking at him.
He’s wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece khaki suit that is, for lack of better wording, strikingly familiar. His light brown hair is styled to meticulous perfection, beard grown out a little more than scruff now, and he’s carrying a leather briefcase in his large hands.
My heart skips a beat.
There’s no way.
“Apologies for being late, Judge Rander,” Madison’s lawyer says smoothly, his voice calm and confident.
He doesn’t glance in my direction, but I don’t need him to. Because I’d know that handsome side profile, the black rimmed glasses that make him look like a model, sparkling smile, the deep baritone of his voice, the way he wears a suit, and those big hands anywhere.
Because they’re the ones that touched my body and made me come more times in a night than I ever have before. And the ones that I’ve fantasized about for months when I touch myself.