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I fucking know I’m just staring at her like I’ve been lobotomized, while she’s looking back at me with such confusion and hurt in her eyes and something else.
Longing.
Hand to God, I’ll make this right.
But first, I have to correct another massive mistake.
I jerk my attention back to the judge as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Mr. Marshall, while this is an entertaining soap opera, how does this pertain to the case? Make it brief, or get the hell out of my courtroom.”
“Your Honor, the entire case is predicated on a lie Marissa Sullivan was led to believe to salvage a dead man’s pride,” I say. A little dramatic, yes, but it’s true. “Surrendering these rights is a grave miscarriage of justice. If you’ll allow Yvette Sullivan to take the stand, she can tell you that this case is false—and provide proof.”
“Mom, don’t you dare!” Marissa hisses. “That woman is my mother in blood only. She cheated on my father!”
“No,” Yvette says, shaking her head. “I never cheated, love. I would never do that to you. Not even to Lester. But I admit, I didn’t love him. He wasn’t the man he led you to believe he was. It’s true I loved someone else while we were married ... but we never did anything about it. For your sake.”
“My sake ...?” Marissa staggers back, wrinkling her nose.
Yvette looks at the judge pleadingly.
He sighs, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll agree, if everyone will sit down already—and if Mr. Marshall will stop turning my courtroom into a zoo.”
“Absolutely,” I answer. “I apologize again, Your Honor.”
I glance around for somewhere to sit. I want to go to Elle as she reclaims her seat, but sitting next to each other, unable to talk, to hold her, to apologize, would feel like pure torture.
So I steal an extra chair and join Clara, Deb, and the lawyers at the table.
Clara wears a dozen emotions on her face.
Screaming. Crying. Laughing.
I was more than right, then.
All this time, she’s never stopped loving Yvette.
Yvette nods slowly, giving Clara a nervous look and a shy smile before she lets the bailiff guide her to the stand. She clasps her hands together and looks up at the judge. He nods, not unkindly.
“Go on,” he says.
Then he shoots a stern look at a frozen Marissa.
“Sit, Miss Sullivan.”
Marissa plunks down in her chair so hard the legs scrape.
In the silence, Yvette takes a shaky breath.
“I’m ... well, I’m not quite sure how to start,” she says.
The beginning, I mouth to her.
“Right. So, Lester, Clara, and I met in art school. We were fast friends. Lester and I were already dating. Frankly, I think Lester originally had notions of ...” She blushes. “Of having both of us. But Clara was indifferent, though I don’t think he noticed. He did eventually notice how close we were, though.”
Her flush deepens as her eyes lock on Clara with such yearning. Like she speaks only for her and there’s no one else in the room.
“I was in denial for so long. You didn’t feel those kinds of things back then. You certainly didn’t talk about them. By the time I let myself acknowledge the way my heart beat and my body yearned—”
“Mom!” Marissa hisses.
