Chapter 31 #2
“I also wanted to let you know I spoke to Jamison about expedited custody procedures—”
“What?” The word whips out of me, sharp enough that even I flinch.
Yes, I flinch, but I won’t back down. Not on this.
Jessica shrinks, seeming to press herself into Richard, but he can’t protect her.
“Jesus,” Richard says, stepping away from Jessica. “I’m not—” He looks to me and says, “I’m exploring options in case. You know as well as I do there’s no way to know how the court case will play out.”
Noah appears at the door—and it’s clear from his expression, he’s there to protect me.
Noah’s presence infuses me with strength—even from the doorway. “You’re not taking her away from me, Richard.”
“The courts might see it differently,” Jessica adds, voice small but annoyingly sure of itself.
Richard’s jaw flexes, and he points at her car. “Jessica—go. You aren’t helping.”
He’s firm. Cold. It’s like he’s talking to a teenager who’s overstepped, not the woman he shares a bed with. Some petty part of me enjoys watching her wilt.
She turns her back on me and I get a view of her bright blonde hair and the skirt that hugs every curve of her backside and the thin black hosiery line that travels along the back of her legs.
“Okay, baby,” she says. “Remember, I’m here for you. I’ll get dinner together, for all of us. You’ll probably want to eat at home, right?”
My gaze cuts to Noah, and he descends the two steps to join me on the lawn. I miss whatever exchange occurs between Richard and Jessica, but the result is she gets in her car. We stand awkwardly, on the narrow front strip of grass, in silence until her car door closes and her engine rumbles.
With that out of the way, I focus on what matters. “I need to tell Stella.” It’s a statement, and I do my best to ensure he reads me correctly—I’m not backing down on this. “I want her to hear it from me.”
“She’s only twelve.”
“And she needs to hear it from me—not a classmate. Christine is coming over tonight. I didn’t tell her. Word’s out.”
“I thought you specialized in keeping things under wraps.” His expression is lighter, a hint of bitter humor, but then his gaze flits to Noah and he’s heated ice once more.
“I’m a crisis management expert,” I say. “And this is how you manage a crisis.”
“Fine. But she’s coming to stay with me this week.”
“That could be for the best,” I agree. “But only because I will have some busy days. You’re not taking her from me, Richard.”
“Well, you better win your case.” I’d like to think he’s joking, but he’s not. He’ll absolutely move for full custody if I’m found guilty of murder, but I can’t think about that.
“Come on. You can wait inside while I go up and talk to Stella.”
As I climb the stairs, I hear Noah ask if Richard’s thirsty.
That’s good—Richard can see for himself that Noah is a decent, respectable person.
I continue climbing, reaching the third floor and Stella’s open bedroom door.
She’s got an overnight bag open. She keeps things in both our houses, but she inevitably always has a favorite sweater or jeans that she carries back and forth.
Her phone lies on the bed, screen lit—as she likely just laid it down.
The screensaver isn’t on and I pick it up—spotting the Snapchat icon.
“Snapchat?”
She freezes, then lifts her chin. “Dad said it was okay.”
I close my eyes and sink onto her bed. “He probably doesn’t know what it is.”
“What’s wrong with it? All my friends have it.”
First, all her friends don’t have it because all her friends don’t have phones, but I swallow that back.
“It deletes messages. Kids use it like it’s a magic eraser and forget anyone can screenshot whatever they send.
” I don’t see anything else worrisome on her phone, and we have a big conversation in front of us, so I set the device on the bed. “It can be addictive.”
“Mom.” She rolls her eyes. “I won’t get addicted.”
A sharp pain pierces my temple and I breathe in deeply. “We’ll talk about it,” I say. She opens her mouth, likely to argue, but I stop her with, “I have other things to talk to you about right now.”
She sits on the bed, crossing her legs, quiet. My perceptive girl understands whatever I’m about to tell her is of a serious nature.
“Are you and Noah getting married?”
My brain stutters. “What?”
“Jessica said the two of you look serious.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head—what the hell? Where would she get that idea? And why would she talk to my daughter about it?
“It’s okay if you are. I like Noah.”
“Okay,” I say, opening my eyes and deciding to broach the subject I hadn’t planned on tackling at all today—if ever—first. “Noah and I are seeing each other. And I do care about him. But there are stages in relationships and we aren’t anywhere close to the marriage stage.”
“Do you think you might marry him? Eventually?”
“Honey.” How do I explain this? “Honestly, I… We’re good for each other right now.
But if you haven’t noticed, he’s younger than me.
He’s got a lot of living in front of him.
Kids of his own. That kind of thing. No, I don’t see us getting married.
We’re just… Sometimes adults have relationships that don’t end in marriage.
And that’s okay. We’re supportive of each other and we make each other happy.
” Her lips turn up into a slight smile. “Not every relationship needs to end in marriage.”
“You could have a baby with him.”
My stomach drops. “Stella, I’m forty-one.”
“So, Maggie’s mom had her baby sister when she was forty-four. And besides, I like Noah. Jessica gets on my nerves, but Noah…he’s cool.”
“I’m not having another child,” I say, trying to get back onto the planned topics. “And I’m glad you like Noah. And I probably should have told you earlier that we’re seeing each other but I wasn’t quite ready.”
“That’s fine, Mom. Jessica told me.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And I’m not necessarily okay with that but…look,” I shift, searching for the right segue—
“I think Jessica just talks about you two because she’s pushing Dad for a ring, and if you’re close to getting a ring then she probably thinks she’ll get one or something. I think she assumed I knew, so don’t get mad at her or anything.”
“Stella,” I breathe out loudly. “I need to talk to you about what happened earlier this morning.”
That gets her attention—at least, she stops talking.
“This morning I was arrested and charged with a crime I did not commit,” I say quietly. “That’s where I was—at the police station, then the courthouse. Not at work. But I have a very good law firm that will clear my name.”
“Why were you charged?”
“I’m not sure, honey.” Those blue eyes of hers question me.
“Well, that’s not true. About a month ago I found a man right before he died.
I entered the room—I was actually calling your father and saw him on the ground.
It turns out he was murdered—poisoned.” The word sticks in my throat.
Saying it to my twelve-year-old feels obscene.
“And because I found him, well, I was a person of interest, but they also learned I knew him years ago. And I don’t think they have much evidence and there was pressure to charge someone—”
“But you didn’t do it.” Outrage flares in her voice, protective and fierce. Gratitude hits me so hard my eyes sting. My daughter believes in me.
“No. I absolutely did not do it. They don’t have any evidence and we’ll aim to get the ridiculous charge thrown out.”
“Do you have to go to jail? Is that why Dad—”
“No, hon. The judge let me go home while we sort this out. I had to pay bail, but I’m not going to jail right now. I’m here. I’m with you. And, honestly, I’m hoping we can kick this before I ever see the inside of a courtroom again. It’s a big misunderstanding, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“You think my classmates will know?”
“I don’t know, hon. It’s possible.” My heart aches—the thought of kids ridiculing her.
“Well, you didn’t do it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You would never.”
“No, I would not.”
She crawls to me on the bed and gives me a tight hug. I hold onto her until I hear footsteps in the hallway. I expect Noah, but I’m surprised when it’s Richard.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” Stella says. She sits back on her heels. “You’re going to make sure Mom gets the charges dismissed, right, Dad?”
She looks up at him with the kind of faith only a twelve-year-old can have—that her father can fix anything, even this.
“I’ll do everything I can, sweet pea.” Then he looks at me. “When’s your next meeting with your legal team?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Send me the details,” he says. “I want to be there.”
I don’t necessarily want Richard in the room, but it’s smarter to have him on my team—and after Stella’s request, I’ll go along with it. So I give a brief nod.
“Where’s Noah?”
“I suggested he give us some time.” He spots Stella’s overnight bag and bends to pick it up. “You ready, kiddo?”
“Yep. When will I see you?” she asks me, picking her phone up off the bed.
“Well, first, you’re going to send me your phone number, right?” She grins. “And, I don’t know, let’s see today’s…”
The calendar blurs in my head, and a weight of dread clouds my thoughts.
“Tomorrow your mother will probably have a late night,” he says. “But Thursday? You and I can cook dinner for her. Just us. Family meal.”
“Just the three of us? No Jessica?” Stella squints like that’s unbelievable and it makes me realize Jessica must be there every single night.
“Are you up for that? It will give us a chance to talk?” His question is to me, but Stella stares up at him, and he adds, “And review your case. Privately.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, even though the word family feels like a language I no longer speak where he is concerned.
Richard waits at Stella’s bedroom door, stepping aside for Stella, and then me, to pass. When we reach the downstairs, Noah is nowhere to be found. I assume he’s down in the basement, and this time, I hold the front door for Stella and her father to pass.
Richard still isn’t happy—his anger fogs the air like humidity, stifling breath. But for now, we have what feels like a truce. A fragile, temporary ceasefire.
All the same, when I talk to Luca and Shelly next, I’ll ask about preparing for the worst. Because if this turns into a custody battle, I can’t afford to be ambushed.