24. Oliver
OLIVER
Coach picks up on the second ring. “You good, Fitz?”
I’ve had knots in my stomach about this since we got the package.
I knew what it meant. I’d be missing a game.
Maybe more. Just depends on how all of this goes, and with a judge at the helm, there’s no telling.
I might be out celebrating after this, or consoling Meg until she stops crying.
No in-between when it comes to losing the last ties to her aunt.
The timing could have been better, but we don’t always get to pick our timing.
I explain, “I can’t be at the game this afternoon. I have a legal matter to handle. It’s about Meg and the shop. I’m sorry I can’t be there.”
Silence for a beat. I know what he’s thinking. That I’m some whipped guy who’s at his girlfriend’s beck and call. Maybe he’s right about that. But I don’t care. Not today. Today she gets me. No one else.
He growls, “Is this going to blow back on us?”
“No, sir. Nothing illegal. I have to make an appearance. I’ll be available for the morning skate tomorrow.”
He exhales. “You missing a game is not nothing, Fitz.”
“I know. This is the right call. It’s what I have to do.”
Another breath. “You’ve banked goodwill. Don’t make a habit of using it up. I’ll tell PR. And Oliver?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep it clean.”
“Always.”
I pull out the suit I keep for being Oliver Fitzwilliam. It’s tucked behind my jerseys, jeans, and T-shirts. Dark, precise, stellar tailoring. The kind of suit that makes Mom happy. Shirt pressed. Tie simple. Shoes that whisper quiet luxury if you know how to hear them.
My family’s name and money opens doors. Today I use it for her.
The courthouse is busy. I easily pass through security, wave at some defense attorneys my parents know, and take the stairs because the elevator line is long.
Outside the courtroom, I see Dana with a folder and a tablet.
Meg sits beside her on a bench, hands tight around a paper cup.
Across the hall, Luke and Callie sit with a lawyer I don’t know.
Luke smirks at his phone. Callie whispers into his ear, her eyes on Meg.
I sit next to Meg. “Hey.”
She leans into my shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” I keep my arm there until she breathes deeper.
Dana stands and gives me a nod. “We’re on second. Temporary restraining order. Narrow. Contact, interference, notice. We tied the amended notice to the emails and the visits.”
AKA, we are not yet using the hacker’s information.
Meg swallows. “Do we have enough?”
“We have enough to ask. Irreparable harm, harassment, irregularities in notice, retaliation pattern. We’re not arguing ownership today. We’re asking for a pause.”
The clerk calls the first case. We wait through a landlord dispute about a storage unit and a neighbor noise complaint. Then, “Bridges v. Harbor Street Holdings, et al.”
Inside, the courtroom is small, much smaller than what I’ve seen on TV. We sit at the left table. Luke and Callie sit at the right with their counsel.
The old, crusty judge looks at the file. “Appearances.”
“Dana Kline for petitioner, Meg Bridges.”
“Thomas Brown for respondent Harbor Street Holdings,” the other lawyer says. “Luke Addaway is here as the managing member of the holding company.
Callie lifts her chin like she wants the judge to note her too.
The judge does not ask her name. He looks at Dana. “Counsel?”
Dana stands. “Your Honor, we’re seeking a temporary restraining order halting any eviction or acceleration steps, and restraining respondents from direct or indirect contact with my client or her staff outside counsel channels.
Over the last two weeks, Ms. Bridges has received repeated emails from Ms. Mornay at odd hours with taunts and demands to sell.
Mr. Addaway appeared at the business with a black card and a show of force, which resulted in a hostile scene in front of her customers.
The property notice clock has been altered to shorten her time.
The inspection landed during a fundraiser window and was minor at most, all documented there in the file.
The amended notice arrived the day after she declined to sell.
We ask for fourteen days to keep the status quo and stop contact while we prepare for an order to show cause. ”
The judge turns to the other side. “Response?”
Brown stands. “This is a straightforward commercial matter. The building changed hands. We served proper notice under the lease. The amended notice reflects a contractor’s urgent assessment.
My client denies harassment. The emails are business communications that became heated because Ms. Bridges escalated them.
The credit card incident was merely generosity.
We oppose a TRO. She has remedies at law. ”
Dana raises a hand. “May I reply?”
“Briefly,” the judge says.
“Ms. Bridges has run this shop for years without incident. The inspection hit during the fundraiser window and produced only fix-and-document items. She and her team corrected those within forty-eight hours. The notice language keeps changing. The visits and emails have personal jabs. We will not try that today. We will, however, show a pattern that makes the court’s pause warranted. ”
The judge looks at me, then at Meg. “Ms. Bridges, do you want to speak?”
Meg stands. “I run Bea’s. It was my aunt’s. We’re preparing to make a community offer. We need time to do this right. The emails and visits feel like pressure to make me give up. I’m asking for a stop so we can handle this without someone moving the goal posts every week.”
The judge nods. “Thank you.” He turns back to the file. “The standard is likelihood of success and irreparable harm. I am not deciding the merits today. I am not deciding who owns what. I am deciding whether a pause makes sense.”
He flips a page. “There are irregularities in the notices that give me pause. The communications are, at best, unprofessional. That stunt with the black card was transparent. The timing of the inspection…I don’t like coincidences.
” He eyes our table. “I am granting a temporary restraining order for fourteen days. No contact by Mr. Addaway, Ms. Mornay, or their agents with Ms. Bridges or her staff outside counsel. No further notices or acts to advance eviction. We will set a hearing on the order to show cause within that window.”
Brown starts to speak. The judge lifts a hand. “You’ll have your chance at the hearing. Next case.”
That’s it. We got the TRO.
We leave, heading for the cars, while Dana rambles on about procedure, and all I can do is watch Meg for a sign that she needs me to get her out of here.
I don’t have to wait for long. Her jaw is tight. Shoulders rigid. Bottom lip quivering. I lower my voice. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Yeah. Please.” But on the way out, the crowds funnel us closer and closer to Luke and Callie and their lawyer. Meg gets a look in her eye, and I’m not the only one who can read it.
Dana advises, “Don’t.”
But Meg can’t help herself. The moment we’re on the courthouse steps, she corners Luke and Callie. “One question.”
“Meg,” Dana begins.
But Meg shakes her head at Dana, eyes still on them. “Why are you so obsessed with me? What did I do to you, besides not have a threesome with you?”
Their lawyer starts to step in. Dana moves closer, taking control. “Counsel present. Ask and answer.”
Callie’s jaw tightens. Her voice is a hiss. “Bea’s was supposed to be mine!”
Meg blinks. “What?”
“Bea called me the daughter she never had. I worked there all through high school and college. I bled for that place. I have a bee tattoo on my ankle for her.” She points at it like it matters. “Then you came in and stole it.”
Meg doesn’t move. “I worked there since high school too. I am her actual niece. She took me in when my parents died. She’s all I had in the world that connected me to my family. Callie, I’m glad you had good memories of Aunt Bea, but that doesn’t make you blood, even if you bled for the shop?—”
“She owed me!”
Meg squares her shoulders. “She told me you talked about selling the shop, if you got the chance. Why would she leave it to someone who would do that?”
Callie rolls her eyes. “That shop is on prime downtown real estate. You’re an idiot for not selling it sooner!”
Meg just laughs. “That’s all anything ever is to you, isn’t it? Money. Always. That’s why you went to law school, why you hopped onto Luke. Money, money, money. Why’d you even bother with the tattoo?”
“You just answered your own question.”
She connects the dots. “Because…you knew Bea would soften up to you. Maybe even consider leaving you the shop, if she thought you were that invested.” Meg shakes her head.
“You really thought Bea was that stupid? You underestimated her that much? God, I’m glad I never hired you as my lawyer. You’re an idiot.”
Callie grunts in frustration, words escaping her. Luke looks embarrassed. He tries to speak. Callie cuts him off with a look. He shuts his mouth.
Meg lifts her chin. “I hope you two have a long, sad life together.”
“Enough,” Dana says quietly. “We’re done here.”
Callie stomps away. Luke follows, because of course he does.
I exhale. “Those two are made for each other.”
Meg almost smiles. “They are.”
On the way home, Meg reads the order again, lips moving on key lines. I drive slow. I want her to feel the words in her hands. She relaxes into the seat and closes her eyes. Two weeks to fix this. Two weeks of exactly zero Callie and Luke.
Back home, we text the others. Hudson replies with a row of bees. Rocco sends bravo . I breathe for the first time all day.
We eat sandwiches because neither of us has the energy for more.
Meg keeps checking her phone and then setting it face down.
I set mine on Do Not Disturb so the league can’t reach me for a few hours.
I send Coach a text: Legal matter handled.
TRO granted. Hearing in two weeks. Back at practice in the morning. He replies: Good.
Dana texts a photo of the signed order at noon. I print it and slide it into a clear sleeve. Meg will take that to work tomorrow, in case of a Callie or Luke invasion. Need that on premises for the police, if she calls them.
By late afternoon, her shoulders sag. I pour two glasses of water and set hers in her hand. She drinks half without being asked, then pads to her bedroom, leaving the door open for me.
I sit on the edge of the bed. “Scoot.”
She lifts the covers, and I climb in. Her bed smells like clean fabric. She rolls toward me and tucks her head under my chin. I wrap an arm around her and pull the blanket over both of us. She puts her hand on my chest and leaves it there. My breath slows. Hers matches it.
“I was scared this morning,” she says.
I hate hearing that she’s ever scared. But I understand it completely. “We’re not done. But we got more time.”
She nods against my shirt. “Thank you for wearing the boss suit.”
I snort a laugh. “Anytime.”
We don’t talk anymore. The day took enough of our words. I listen to her breathing even out. My phone buzzes once on the dresser, and I ignore it. The order sits on the table. The hearing date will land. Luke and Callie will do what they do. We’ll do what we do.
I keep my arm around her and let the room be quiet. When I sleep, it’s easy. We’re safe for tonight. She’s in my arms. That’s all that matters.