Page 107 of At His Beck & Call

Oliver’s frown only deepens as he picks up his wine. “Is that what had happened when I saw you that day in the hospital?”

I nod, my palms beginning to sweat thinking about it.

“I should never have kept Henry’s illness from him,” I say, voicing the source of the guilt that pulses beneath my skin. “He had every right to know what was going on with his son.”

“Maybe.” The single word makes my gut clench, and I turn to Oliver, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “But Henry is separated from his father because of James’s choices. He didn’t have the right to hurt you, and he did it anyway. If James had been a better father and husband, he wouldn’t have been separated from his son, and he would have been aware of his illness from the beginning. You chose to save yourself and your son from more heartache. That’s not malicious or vindictive, Lissa…

Tears pool in my eyes from his words. It’s so dark in the room now, the shadows closing in all around us.

“James has a lot of money,” I say helplessly. “He has more money than he knows what to do with. He could easily prove to the court that Henry would have a better life with him. All they would need is a photograph of my shitty apartment. There’s mold in the cabinets and screaming couples on every floor. Whereas James is in finance and has his own place in Brooklyn. The judge is gonna be able to see that Henry would have a good life with him.”

Oliver fixes me with that dark, intense stare.

“Define good.” He licks his lips, leaning against the back of the couch, his fist against his temple; calm and collected. “So, James gives him a house. Great. Does he get a loving father, too? Does he get to see his adoring mother, who wants the best forhim, or are you blocked from seeing him for good? A place to live is nothing compared to the world you’ve built for him.”

He shifts forward a little. “Youhave custody of Henry for a reason. You can give him a better life because you’re not using him as a bargaining chip to score points. Any competent lawyer could argue as such. You’re talking about a financial bond versus an emotional bond. There’s no contest. Not in my view.”

I shake my head slowly. “Competent lawyers cost money. Lots of money.”

Oliver’s warm fingers encircle my wrist, and he pulls my hand down to the couch between us.

His thumb brushes gently against my skin as I stare at him, my heart drumming a thousand beats a minute as our gazes lock and hold.

“You’ve got the best lawyer in the city,” he says solemnly.

“What?”

“I’m not standing by and watching you fight this thing alone. Henry belongs with you; anyone with half a brain can see that. I saw his father. I know what men like him are like, and I won’t let him take your son away from you, Lissa. I’ll represent you, and I won’t charge you a thing.”

My mouth falls open as I begin shaking my head vigorously. “Absolutely not. No.”

He frowns, raising an eyebrow. “And why not?”

“Because you can’t represent me.”

“Why?”

“You charge over two thousand dollars an hour, you’ve worked hard to get to that status, to work with clients who canpayyou. I can’t do that. It isn’t fair.”

“But I’m offering.”

“I don’t want you to offer that. It’s not why I told you about it.” My chest is tightening by the second. Suddenly, opening up to Oliver feels like the stupidest, neediest thing I’ve ever done.

Has he been listening to me, imagining that I was asking for his help? Some desperate mother, forcing her way into his home and begging him to help her child?

“Lissa…”

“No!” I say, putting down my glass and standing up abruptly. “No. Henry and I should leave.”

I stalk out of the room, the cloak of darkness pulling away from my shoulders as I step into the hallway. The lights above me are bright and unpleasant as I walk toward Henry’s room, right before giant hands land on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks.

Oliver turns me around, his eyes dangerous before he steps back, releasing me again.

“You’re not leaving,” he says, with an urgency that makes me flinch. He inhales deeply, looking away, gathering himself, and then he starts over. “What I mean is, please don’t leave. Lissa, this is an offer of my help, nothing more.”

“You can’t help me. Not like that.”

“Why not?”