She was distraught when the prosecutor asked her what they’d done after the party. Embarrassed and a little ashamed, she had to admit that they’d been intimate that night. She also had to recount to twelve strangers about the argument they’d had afterward, the same fight that had resulted in her husband disappearing for the rest of the night. Paige hadn’t seen him again until the next morning.
By the time they’d finished questioning her, she was shaking. The implication that he’d had sex with her and then assaulted another woman made her blood run cold. Once they dismissed her, she rushed out of the courtroom and called her driver. When he’d confirmed he was pulling up in front of the building, she headed toward the doors.
As soon as stepped outside, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and steeled herself for a photographer to jump out. But it wasn’t a pap. It was Andrew. Without thinking, she ran into his waiting arms.
“You’re here,” she whispered, basking in his comforting hold on her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he murmured against her neck.
They stood like that for a moment before reality set in—that she was standing out in the open hugging the same man she was supposed to be avoiding. She jerked back, stumbling a bit. He gripped her hips to steady her.
Paige eased out of his grasp and smoothed a hand over her head. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I’m not supposed to be hugging you like this.” But she needed him, she wanted his arms around her.
Andrew glanced around, probably to make sure there were no paps waiting in the wings with a camera. Paige scanned the immediate area herself. She didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there—waiting, watching.
Paige took a healthy step back. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I couldn’t let you be here alone. Soon as I got out of my meeting I hopped on a plane.”
Smiling, she nodded. “Thank you.”
Andrew looked back one more time. He pointed at the car. “Is that your driver?”
“Yes.”
He gestured toward the car. “Let’s go.”
Paige hurried to the car and slid inside. A few seconds later, he was with her, instructing the driver to circle the block. The car pulled off and Paige turned to him. Unable to help herself, she ran her finger over his chin.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she murmured. Andrew glanced at the driver and told him to stop at the parking garage on their right. When the driver pulled in front of the garage, Andrew slid the man a large tip and told him he was no longer needed.
Confused, Paige looked to Andrew for answers, but he didn’t speak. He climbed out of the car and held his hand out to her. She placed her hand in his, got out of the car, and followed Andrew into the parking garage.
He led her to a dark SUV. The lights flashed and he opened the passenger door for her. Paige hopped in and waited for him to climb in on the driver’s side. Again, Andrew held his hand out for her. When she slipped her hand in his, he pulled her over the middle console and into his lap. Kissing her knuckles, he said, “I couldn’t let you do this alone. Even if I couldn’t be in the room with you, I wanted you to know I was there.”
Paige kissed him then. “I love you, Andrew.” She rested her head against his shoulder. The fact that he’d risked being spotted to support her made her feel warm inside. “I was on the verge of a panic attack leaving the courthouse. I didn’t even go back and talk to Michelle.” Speaking of her attorney . . . “I should probably let her know I left, huh?”
Andrew laughed, pressing his lips to her temple. “That would be a good idea.”
She snuggled into him again. “We should probably get out of here.”
“Probably,” he agreed.
“A few more minutes?” she asked, biting her lip. “I just need you to hold me.”
He tightened his hold on her, enveloping him in his warm embrace. “Anything you need.”
They sat there for a few moments in silence. “The prosecutor asked very hard questions.” She gave Andrew a brief explanation of her time in the room. “The thought of him being with me and . . .” She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “What the hell? The more I discover, the angrier I get—at Julius and at myself. I was his wife. How did I not know he was a damn predator?”
With his thumb, Andrew brushed a tear she didn’t know had fallen away. “He’s been doing this a long time, baby. It’s not your fault you didn’t know. He’s had practice concealing his activities.”
She didn’t watch TV often, but when she did, Paige loved to watch true crime. Paige had seen many stories about women who had no idea their husbands were serial rapistsorserial killers. When watching, she’d often thought to herself how naïve those women were. The notion that she’d be in that same category was foreign to her, because she’d always been sure she was smarter than that. Now she didn’t know what to believe.
“Hey.” Andrew tipped her chin up to peer into her eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated. “You’re his victim, too. Just not in the same way.”
