“He is in a motorcycle gang and I’m standing right here.”
Her eyes went wide. “What? Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I’m blind.”
I groaned. “John says he’s the best.”
“Gabriel, you hired abikerto handle your custody case?”
“Our custody case,” I corrected, and watched her face do something complicated. “And yes. Because apparently Richard Castellano is worse.”
The doorbell rang.
Cate smoothed down her shirt, one of mine that she’d borrowed this morning and hadn’t given back, and took a breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
I opened the door.
Anthony Gallagher was taller than I’d expected. Six-two, maybe six-three, with broad shoulders and hands that looked like they could rebuild an engine or destroy someone in court with equal efficiency. His leather jacket was worn but expensive, and when he unzipped it, I caught a glimpse of a tailored suit underneath.
“Dr. Lyon.” His voice was pure New York, rough around the edges but articulate. He extended his hand. “Anthony Gallagher.”
His grip was firm. Assessing.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, stepping aside. “This is my wife, Cate.”
“Mrs. Lyon.” Anthony’s expression shifted when he looked at her, something warmer, more appreciative. “John mentioned you were recently married. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Cate said, and I watched her smile appear. The real one, not the nervous one she used with strangers. “Can I get you some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, and Anthony’s gaze followed her for a beat too long before returning to me.
“Nice place,” he said, scanning the living room. “How long have you lived here?”
“Four years or so. Megan was almost two when I bought the place.”
“And Cate moved in when?”
“Three days ago.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “Fast.”
“The situation required it.”
“I’m sure it did.” He settled into the armchair I indicated, crossing one ankle over his knee. “John filled me in on the basics. Your ex-wife is challenging the custody arrangement, claiming you’re not providing a stable home environment. She’s remarried to Richard Castellano, who’s representing her.”
“That’s correct.”
“And you responded by getting married to your daughter’s nanny.” It wasn’t a question. “Within a week of Tonya’s lawyer showing up.”
“Yes.”
Anthony studied me for a long moment. “That’s either brilliant or incredibly stupid. I haven’t decided which yet.”
Cate returned with a tray of coffee, cream, sugar, and what looked like fresh scones. She set it on the coffee table with the kind of simple grace that made it look effortless.
“I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee,” she said to Anthony. “So I brought options.”
“Black is fine.” He accepted the cup she poured, and I watched his expression shift again. “Did you make these?”
