37. Adrian
CHAPTER 37
ADRIAN
I watch Jane leave the courtroom and realize I fucked up. For a moment, I considered that she might’ve betrayed me, and she read that on my face.
After that moment passed, I knew she couldn’t have done it, no matter how mad she was about my earlier actions. Alas, now it’s too late. I should run after her, but I can’t. Piper needs me here, at the hearing.
In fact, I’ve already missed something Bob was saying, though I think the gist of it was, “That kind of information could only be obtained by illegal hacking, which doesn’t speak well for Sydney’s character.”
“That doesn’t make his marriage real,” someone counters—though their actual words have more legalese.
I leap to my feet, propelled by an uncontrollable impulse. “It doesn’t matter how my relationship with Jane started. As we got to know each other, I genuinely fell in love with her, and now I plan to keep her as my wife forever.”
As the words leave my mouth, I realize that it’s the truth.
The reason her silent treatment hurts so much is because I love Jane and I hate how unhappy she seems.
Well, no more. I’m going to find a way to fix things between us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sydney going pale. I guess she believes my declaration, and it must rid her of all the last-ditch fantasies she’s been harboring, the ones where the two of us magically end up together despite everything.
“If my marriage is the deciding factor for custody,” I continue, “I’m willing to sign a document that stating that if Jane and I were ever to get divorced, Sydney would?—”
“My client is just joking,” Bob interjects.
It’s a good thing he stopped me. What if Jane?—
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” the judge says. She faces Sydney’s side. “Is there more?”
They tell her there isn’t.
“In that case, I’m going to make the ruling,” she says.
Heart hammering in my throat, I listen so intently I can hear someone’s stomach rumble in the first row. Then, as the judge speaks, a feeling of weightlessness overcomes my body, not unlike how I feel when inside a sensory deprivation chamber. I’m also so happy about what I hear that I want to dance a jig because, when stripped of all the legalese, the ruling is exactly what I’ve worked so hard to accomplish—fifty/fifty custody.
As in, I can be fully present in Piper’s life.
A wide grin spreads over my face, and I almost hug Bob, but then I downgrade the gesture to a handshake. I’ve never been so elated. An actual warmth radiates through my body.
I turn to kiss Jane in my excitement, only to remember that she left.
Fuck.
The happiness dims.
How could I have forgotten? Jane left, and she’s even more upset with me than before.
“Am I needed here?” I ask Bob.
“No. That was it. Congratulations, sir. We can hash everything out with the other side without you pres?—”
Not waiting for the rest of it, I sprint out of the courtroom—where I bump into Georgiana, who is talking with Tristan, of all people.
Very odd.
“Have you seen Jane?” I ask her.
“She took a yellow cab,” Tristan answers.
If I had more time, I’d ask why he’s keeping track of Jane’s movements, but as is, I just look at Jane’s mom for confirmation.
She nods.
“Where did she go?” I ask.
“Home.” Georgiana waves her phone. “She texted me. She’s about halfway to the Staten Island Ferry.”
I take out my own phone and text my limo driver to come get me, adding 911 at the end to highlight the highest of urgencies.
“Your best bet is to catch her at the Ferry terminal,” Georgiana continues. “The next one departs at one thirty.”
I check my watch and frown. We can just barely make it if we break every speed limit.
Tires screeching, the limo pulls up to the curb.
I leap inside and promise the driver a six-digit bonus if we get to our destination on time. Maybe that was too much because the limo torpedoes forward, and we fly through the busy Manhattan streets as if filming The Fast and the Furious .
I call Jane.
She doesn’t pick up.
I text her.
Same result.
Before I know it, we screech to a stop at the Whitehall Terminal, and I run out of the limo and up the escalator, skipping stairs as I go.
Fuck. Jane is nowhere in sight, and the time is 1:32, which means the ferry is already loading.
I take my phone out and desperately call Jane one more time.
No result. I attempt a step toward the people filing onto the ferry, but my legs refuse to move. These appendages know perfectly well that a ferry is a type of a boat… which will go over water .
I grit my teeth. This is something I tried not to think about on the way over, but now I have no choice. If I don’t do something, Jane is going to go sailing—and I know that it’s probably irrational, but I’m convinced that if I let her get on the ferry alone, I’ll lose her… the way I lost my parents.
Or maybe it’s not so irrational. When I was seven, I remember hearing about a Staten Island Ferry crash, where many people were killed and even more were injured.
No. I’m going to save Jane even if I have to swim after her.
I force myself to take a step toward the fucking ferryboat. Then another. Then another.
Why am I moving so slowly? The boat will depart soon.
Straining my muscles and my sanity, I remind myself that there are people out there running into burning buildings and flying bullets while my dragon seems to be a docked boat.
The pep talk doesn’t work particularly well. My breathing still speeds up with each step, and by the time I actually get onto the cursed boat, I sound like the bellows at a smithy.
Looking around frantically, I scare a few passengers but do not see Jane.
“Jane!” I shout croakily.
More people look at me askance, but I ignore them and shout her name again.
Behind me, undocking preparations begin, making my heart jackrabbit into my throat.
I’m too late. The ferry is about to leave, which means Jane and I are about to share whatever dreadful fate awaits.
If only I could find her before?—
“Adrian?”
My head snaps up.
Jane is staring down at me from the second floor of the boat. “What are you doing here?”
Yes! I found her. Sprinting around all the other passengers, I get to the second floor in one breath.
Grabbing Jane’s wrist, I pull her to the ferry exit.
“What’s going on?” she demands but allows me to keep dragging her. “Where are we going?”
“No time,” I grit out and drag her to the first floor… which is when I see it.
We’re already undocked and… are swimming.
No. Floating.
No. Moving.
Whatever you call it, this means it’s officially too late. My legs jellify and I sink into a nearby chair. Jane sits next to me, her indignant expression turning into one of concern.
“Is it the water thing?” she asks me.
I manage a small nod. “I just need a second.”
The boat begins to move in earnest. My stomach churns, and I start to feel dizzy and then promptly seasick.
Oh, yeah. I completely forgot that I get seasick on boats, even though it’s the reason I wasn’t with my parents the day they?—
“Oh, my,” Jane says when she spots my no-doubt green expression. “Just relax,” she croons and hugs me. “It’s only a twenty-five-minute ride.”
Twenty-five minutes? It feels like days of agony pass, and if I had state secrets that someone needed, I would spill them just to have the boat dock somewhere. Anywhere.
Since I have no secrets, I just suffer. But I do make a solemn vow to myself. If, by some miracle, we manage to survive this, I’m going to buy a pharmaceutical company and invent something much stronger than Dramamine for the unfortunate souls who don’t have private jets and limos and therefore cannot avoid this horrific mode of transportation.
“We have to get off,” Jane says, as if from the shore. “Or else we’ll go back.”
We’ve stopped? Finally. I stand on my wobbly legs and let Jane help me onto dry land, where I plop on a bench and do my best to catch my breath.
In mere minutes, I feel like a new man, which means very soon after that, I feel like an idiot over how I handled that whole situation.
I think it may be time I see a therapist and work on the swimming thing. If Jane were to fall in a lake or get on a cruise ship?—
Jane grips my hand. “Are you okay?”
I turn to her, focusing on her gorgeous face and the concern in her amber eyes.
“Much better now,” I say—and it’s almost true. I’m over the boat ride, but being so close to Jane reawakens certain yearnings in Yoda.
“Want to get away from the water?” she asks.
I want to kiss her for that… or simply just kiss her. “Yes, please.”
She still holds my hand as we rush to the first available cab, but I wince internally when Jane gives the driver her childhood home address. That destination implies she doesn’t want to go back to my place—a place I had hoped she was beginning to see as ours.
Unless, does she think I’ll lose my shit when we get to the Verrazzano Bridge, the way I did on the ferry?
She pushes her glasses up her nose—a gesture that should not be as sexy as it is. “Can you talk now?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m completely fine.”
Lie, that is. Calm, Yoda is not.
“Great,” Jane says and grips my hand again. “I’m sorry that Sydney got a hold of the contract.”
I open my mouth to reply, but she shushes me with a finger—making me wonder how insulting she’d find it if I licked it, or sucked on it, or?—
“I’m also sorry that I ran away when they showed it on the screen,” Jane continues. “It’s just that, when I saw you look at me the way you did, I?—”
“Stop,” I say firmly, and her finger leaves my mouth. “I’m the one who is sorry. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I instantly realized you had nothing to do with that.”
“But I did,” she says. “I used a shitty password, and Sydney got?—”
“No. Not your fault.” I lay my other hand over her small palm. “And it’s moot anyway because I got custody of Piper despite the document.”
She opens her mouth wide, which makes me want to kiss it more. “I didn’t mess things up for you?”
“ Sydney didn’t mess things up for me,” I correct. “But yes. No.”
She narrows her eyes. “Then why didn’t you tell me that right away? I’ve been kicking myself all this time.”
“I tried calling you. And texting.”
She pulls out her phone, glances at it, and grimaces. “I’m sorry. If I’d picked up, I would’ve spared you that horrible boat ride and myself some of the grief.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “But speaking of forgiveness, I want to apologize for something else.”
Face going pale, Jane draws back. “Who you sleep with isn’t any of my business.”
I frown. “Who I sleep with?” And then it hits me. “I told you that wasn’t what it looked like. Nothing happened between me and Sydney.”
Jane sighs. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Our marriage is fake and?—”
“Nothing happened,” I enunciate the words as firmly as I can. “Somehow, Sydney got into the building outside of the times designated for dropping off Piper. Then she got naked and woke me up in some last-ditch attempt at seduction, but I asked her to leave. Angry words were exchanged. That’s it. I swear.”
“Oh, wow.” Then Jane’s eyes widen. “I think she might’ve used my stupid password then as well.”
“Ah. Right.” I smile to take the sting out of my next words as I add, “Maybe you should use different passwords for things going forward.”
She vigorously nods. “That’s what I was doing on the cab ride to the ferry. Changing all my passwords.”
I scoot over and look into her eyes. “Now that that’s out of the way, what I actually want to apologize for are the things I said after our wedding night.”
Her lips part. “What do you mean?”
I take her hand in mine. “I’ve hated acting like strangers for the last few weeks. I can’t bear knowing that it’s all my fault. I never should have?—”
The car comes to a stop, and I realize we’re next to Jane’s house. But whose limo is that? Did I forget telling my driver to meet me?
Boat amnesia is definitely something to tell my future therapist about.
“Let’s continue talking inside?” Jane gestures at her house.
I nod and pay the driver.
Getting out, I open the door for Jane, and just as she steps onto the pavement, I spot a big problem in our way.
Climbing out of the limo is Sydney.
Her eyes look puffy and her expression forlorn.
Fuck.
How bad of a father does she think I am that she needs to be so distraught?
Sydney takes a menacing step toward us, and her eyes aren’t on me but on Jane. There’s something really weird about the lingering stare, and I don’t like it one bit. Between Sydney looking so unstable right now, and her showing up at my house naked last night, I would not be all that surprised if she pulled out a gun and shot Jane—and then demanded that I marry her .
Well, screw that. After surviving the ferry ride, this is nothing.
Putting myself between Sydney and Jane, I demand icily, “What are you doing here?”