Chapter 11 #2
A flicker of something passed through Sierra’s eyes as he said the words, but it was fleeting and disappeared in seconds as she flicked her gaze away from him.
“The way she drinks, it could have been an accident. Or someone could have offed her. Who knows with her. And who cares? Are we finished here?”
Grant stood and studied his daughter for a second before he nodded. “Yes, I guess so.”
“Good. I’m going to check on Kyle. He’s probably bored without me beating him at Uno.” She stomped her way toward the foyer.
“Sierra,” Julia called after her, “no one has told him yet unless he saw it on the news.”
Sierra twisted to face her as she hovered in the doorway. “Good. I’ll tell him the good news then.”
Her footsteps receded as she headed upstairs. Grant stared after her for a moment before he flicked his gaze to Julia. “Well, that went better than expected.”
“I’ll check on her later, just in case,” Julia offered.
He pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”
“How are you?” she asked as she leaned away from him.
“I’m fine,” he answered.
Julia pressed her lips together as she stared up at him.
“What? I feel pretty much the same way Sierra does. And your sister. If I didn’t think it was crass, I’d crack open a bottle of champagne.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Why would I be upset over the death of a woman who has terrorized this family for two years?”
“You were married to her once.”
“A fact I regret almost every day of my life. Please don’t hold it against me.”
“I’m not holding it against you,” she promised. “But you married her once upon a time. You must have felt something for her. I imagine she wasn’t always as manipulative and…bitter as she has been lately.”
He pondered the words, wondering if the red flags had always been there. Lydia had never been like Julia. She had never been understanding, helpful, concerned, or loving. He often pondered why he had married her.
Lydia’s presence in his life had been a constant battle, one that shaped him in ways he was only beginning to understand.
He rubbed her shoulders as he tried to piece together a response. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve asked myself that question over and over since we’ve met.”
She offered him a consoling half-smile. “And?”
“And the only conclusion I’ve consistently come to is that I wish we would have met a lot sooner than we did.”
The statement elicited a chuckle from her. “You’re such a flatterer.”
“I’m not,” he said with a laugh as he wrapped his hand around hers. “I’m just that much in love with you and the life we’ve made together.”
“It’s okay if you’re upset over her death. It’s a shock.”
“Julia, I’m fine. Really. It’s…surprising that she’s gone. It’s…” He flicked his eyebrows up. “Surreal, in a way. She’s been such a thorn in our sides, I can’t believe it’s finally over.”
“I know,” she answered with a sigh.
He wrapped her in his arms again, kissing the top of her head as she laid it against his chest. He supposed he had to thank Lydia for being the one to bring him and Julia together.
If she hadn’t been riling up board to vote him out, Sierra never would have suggested the fake marriage, he never would have accidentally met Julia, married her, and fallen in love.
Ironic that the woman who had nearly ruined his life countless times over the past two years was also the one responsible for the happiest moments of his life.
He squeezed her tighter. “I love you.”
She tipped her chin back and stared up at him. “I love you, too.”
He rubbed a thumb against her cheek before he leaned closer to kiss her. Before their lips could meet, the doorbell rang, drawing their attention.
He grumbled a sigh. “Of course.”
Worthington pulled open the door and nodded after a second. “Yes, he is.”
“Now what?” Grant asked.
A pair of uniformed officers came in with his favorite detective trailing behind them. “Well, well, well, here we are again, Mr. Harrington.”
“What do you want?”
“Your whereabouts this evening as a start. But a signed confession would be great.”
Grant furrowed his brow. “Signed confession of what?”
“Lydia Harrington Knight’s murder.”
Grant shook his head as he huffed out a sigh. “Oh, please. You’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m not,” the detective said. “You are wanted for questioning in the murder of your ex-wife.”
Grant shook his head. “I’m not answering anything.”
“Well, we can do this one of two ways. You can head down to the station with me now, or we can arrest you.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Fine. Grant Harrington, you are under arrest for the murder of Lydia Harrington Knight,” the detective said as one of the officers stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs.
Julia squeezed his arm before the officer wrenched it behind his back. Even in death, Lydia continued to cause trouble.
“Don’t say anything. I’ll call Mitchell,” she said.
“You wait here. I know you hate the chairs.”
She offered him a weak smile and a shake of her head. “If you need me, have Mitchell call, okay? I’ll wait up.”
As the officer led him away, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time his wife had watched him be led away in handcuffs.
He worried then that his new marriage, though fake, would be ruined.
He’d already grown fond of her, already experienced that special connection.
But she’d stood by him. And she promised to stand by him again.
Each step toward the police car felt like a surreal case of deja vu. Julia’s voice, promising to fight for him, was the only anchor in the chaos swirling around him.
He only hoped this time wouldn’t be his undoing.