Chapter 48
JOSHUA
The courtroom is heavy with silence when the judge starts reading out the verdict.
It’s funny, people always say your heart races in moments like this, but mine doesn’t.
It slows down. It thuds in my chest like a warning bell, deliberate and cold.
I sit in the gallery, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, my suit collar stiff against my neck, my eyes fixed on the woman seated at the defense table.
Sarah fucking Dawson.
She doesn’t look at me. She hasn’t looked at me once since the trial started.
Not when I gave my testimony. Not when the security footage played on the monitor, showing her pointing a gun at Molly.
Not when Molly took the stand with her voice steady and her spine straight, refusing to let Sarah rewrite the truth.
Even now, as the judge delivers the final words, she stares ahead, blank and unmoved.
“...having considered the overwhelming evidence presented by the prosecution, and the defendant’s continued lack of remorse for her actions, this court finds the defendant guilty of attempted murder.”
A small sound escapes from someone behind me. A sharp inhale, maybe. A whisper of relief. But I don’t move. Don’t celebrate. I wait and I watch.
“The sentence is twenty years, with no possibility of parole for the first fifteen years. This court believes that the maximum penalty is warranted in light of the premeditated nature of the attack and the ongoing psychological trauma inflicted upon the victim.”
The gavel comes down like a full stop. And just like that, it’s done. Sarah flinches at the sound. It’s the first time she has reacted to anything all week.
She doesn’t cry. Doesn’t protest. But I see something crack behind her eyes as the bailiff cuffs her again and leads her away. That’s when I can finally breathe easy again.
Not specifically because she’s going to prison. But because it’s over. Because Molly is safe. Because the past can’t reach us anymore. I stand up and leave the courtroom behind me.
The sunlight outside is a punch of warmth, a nice contrast to the chill of the court room I have just left behind.
I blink against the light, loosening my tie with one hand and pulling my cell phone from my pocket with the other.
It’s past noon. I’ve spent four days in that courtroom, showing up for every minute of testimony, watching as Sarah’s lawyers tried to spin her story, to twist the facts. But they failed. The truth won.
I find Molly’s name in my contacts and hit call, bringing my cell phone up to my ear. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey,” she says. Her voice is soft. Hopeful.
“Guilty,” I tell her. “She got twenty years.”
There’s a pause, then a sharp exhale of relief.
“Thank God.”
“Yeah. The judge didn’t hold back. He said she showed no remorse, and I think he wanted to give her more time if he could.”
“She never looked sorry,” Molly murmurs. “Not once. Even when I testified.”
“I know.” I climb into my car and rest my head against the steering wheel for a second. “But it’s over. She’s not coming back. She can’t hurt you again.”
She’s quiet for a moment.
“Come home,” she says. “Don’t go back to the office.
I smile.
“I’m on my way.”
The drive back home feels lighter somehow, like the weight on my chest has finally lifted. The trees lining the highway blur into streaks of green, the sky is bright and endless above me, and for once, I don’t feel like I’m racing against some unseen clock.
I pull into our driveway just after one o’clock, and the moment I step out of the car, I see her – my Molly - on the porch, waiting for me. Autumn will still be at day care, so we have a bit of time alone together.
Molly looks so pretty. She’s wearing that soft blue dress I love, the one that hugs her curves and makes the green of her eyes stand out. Her hair is pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, and her hand rests on the curve of her stomach in a way that feels almost unconscious.
It’s not until that moment I realize how tightly I’ve been wound all day, hell all week. I cross the lawn in long strides, and she meets me halfway. Her arms go around my neck before I’ve even said a word, and I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in like she’s the only air that matters.
“She’s gone,” I whisper. “Really gone.”
Molly leans back, her eyes searching mine.
“You’re sure?”
“Twenty years,” I repeat. “And the judge made it clear. She’s not getting out early. No bail. No appeals that’ll go anywhere. She’s done, Mol.”
Her eyes well up, but she doesn’t cry. Instead, she just presses her forehead to mine and breathes.
“I feel like I can finally sleep,” she says.
“You can.”
We sit on the porch swing for a while, just the two of us. I tell her about the trial, the jury, the prosecutors. How the judge never even looked at Sarah when he passed sentence. How Sarah finally flinched when the gavel came down for the last time.
Molly listens quietly her fingers laced with mine. When I finish, she turns to face me, a little smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says.
“That’s usually dangerous.”
She smacks my shoulder playfully.
“Behave. I’m serious.”
“Okay.” I straighten up, giving her my full attention. “Hit me with it.”
Her smile grows.
“I think we should bring the wedding forward.”
I blink.
“Wait … seriously?”
“Seriously. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Okay, I love that plan. When are we talking? A few months? The end of summer?”
She shrugs coyly.
“Sooner.”
“How soon?”
“Soon.”
I laugh, my heart thudding in delighted surprise.
“Hmm. Are you trying to trap me or something?”
She leans in, brushing her lips against my ear.
“Well, it would be a good time to. You know, seeing as I am pregnant again,” she whispers.
I freeze, and she leans back, grinning now.
“Surprise,” she says in a sing song voice.
I blink at her, stunned.
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“How long have you known?”
“A week.”
“A week? You mean to tell me that you sat through Sarah’s trial with this news in your head and you didn’t say anything?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
“I didn’t want to distract you.”
I shake my head, laughing as I pull her into my lap and kiss her hard.
“You’re insane. And I love you.”
“So, about that wedding…”
“Where do you want to do it?” I ask, breathless.
We lock eyes.
“Vegas,” we both say in unison.
And then we’re laughing, loud, wild, unfiltered joy spilling out of us like we’ve been holding it in for far too long.
It feels right getting married in Vegas, like we’ve come full circle. It will be a wedding, but it will also be a celebration of that first night we met, drunk on laughter and neon lights and unexpected chemistry. The night that gave us Autumn. The night that changed everything.
Now here we are, planning to do it right. No regrets. No fear. Just us. Together. Forever.
Later that evening, long after Autumn is supposed to be asleep, Molly and I are sitting watching TV when Autumn toddles into the living room in her polka dot pajamas, rubbing her eyes and clutching a stuffed elephant.
“Mama?” she says, blinking at Molly. “I’m hungry.”
Molly scoops her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek.
“We’ll get you a snack, sweetheart.”
Autumn turns to me with a bright smile.
“Hi Joshy,” she says, as though it isn’t the middle of the night for her, and we just casually met.
“Well, hi there,” I say ruffling her curls.
She yawns dramatically and curls up against Molly’s shoulder.
“You think she’d be up for a Vegas wedding?” I joke.
“Only if there’s cake.”
“There will always be cake.”
Molly grabs Autumn a snack of apple slices and we settle on the couch, the three of us in a messy pile of limbs and love. Autumn finishes her apple and then she falls asleep again, snuggled between us.
I watch Molly as she strokes our daughter’s hair, her other hand resting protectively on her still flat stomach. The faintest hint of a bump is there, but I can already picture what it will look like in a few months’ time. And this time, I know I’ll be there for every moment, every first.
This little family we’ve built, against all odds, is everything I never knew I needed. And to think, it all started with a drunken weekend in Vegas. A weekend I thought would disappear into hazy memories and cheap hangovers.
Instead, it gave me Molly. It gave me Autumn. It gave me the new baby. It gave me this life that I love .
I glance at Molly again, and she catches me staring.
“What?” she asks, her eyebrow raised.
“Nothing,” I say softly. “I was just thinking.”
“What about?”
I smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“How I went to Vegas for a stag night and came back with my own wife to be waiting for me.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too.
“So cheesy.”
“Oh completely. True though.”
“And you’re never getting rid of me now, you know.”
“Good. Because I’m never letting you go again.”