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“Harry, meet my friend Callie. I believe you’ll be seeing her today to clear up a speeding incident, and I wanted to make a personal introduction.”
Harry turns to me with a little bow before taking a step closer and clasping my hand in both of his. “Pleasure, Callie. And I’m sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances. Let me have a look at that ticket.”
I hand him the worn slip of paper, and he carries it to his desk, where he puts on his reading glasses again and reads both sides. He then types something on his computer and studies that. Luke tells him we’re engaged, and the judge gets downright teary-eyed. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a week.”
Luke asks him about his granddaughter’s horseback riding, and he asks about Luke’s son. Before I know what’s happened, my fine has been reduced to nothing, and I’m sent on my way with a warning and mandatory traffic school.
“Okay, Luke. You saved the day. I’m officially yours to do with what you will. Fake girlfriend, fiancée, stripper, you name it.” He stops walking, and it takes me three steps before I realize it. I turn to see him scowling at me. “What?”
“Please stop saying things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Stripper?”
“Oh. Please. Joke.”
He shakes his head as though I’m working his last nerve. Impossible when he seems to have so many raw nerves on display. Who could even pick one?
“This isn’t a joke to me. I need to get custody. There’s no other possibility.” The agony is clear on his face. The grimace. The tired eyes. The strained muscle beating in his cheek.
I rein in all my instincts to try to lighten the mood. They’re not working anyway. “I know,” I say quietly. His face relaxes. He looks almost…touched.
He starts to walk away, but then he turns. The corner of his mouth crooks upward. “Stripper?”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t be the worst job I’ve had.”
CHAPTER 4
Luke
“So as I’ve explained, my client is currently in a stable, consistent relationship and is creating a warm, family life for his son. The suggestion his former wife makes that he is a ‘workaholic single dad’ is not only false but damaging to the health of their child.” John uses air quotes and glares at Elizabeth, who has pulled her sensible hair back into a ponytail and added a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that make her look like a librarian.
“You got a fiancée in six weeks?” the Wellington family lawyer asks. “When my client filed this petition, there was no mention of a fiancée.” This man is a more expensive version of John. Better suit. Better hair. Degree from a better school, no doubt.
“We fell in love. It moved fast.” I sound like I’m gargling sand.
“Where’s the ring?” the lawyer asks.
“We’re having it reset. Family heirloom,” Callie responds before I even have time to digest the question. “I’m not fussy, but this guy wanted it to be perfect.”
Callie tips her head to rest on my shoulder. It’s…sweet. Something a girlfriend would do. I put my hand on hers, wondering if I look as awkward as I feel and worried about how clammy my skin is.
“Yes. That,” I say.
“What date did you get engaged?” Elizabeth’s lawyer levels Callie with a beady-eyed look of a shark eyeing his prey. He expects her to stumble and get caught in a lie.
“The twenty-third of last month,” she says with equal amounts of ease and excited energy of a newlywed. The mediator smiles at her, and I’m struck by how easily she charms people. It makes it all the harder for me to reason some other way out of the mess I’ve made.
For every question Elizabeth’s lawyer punts her way, Callie answers it with a mixture of confidence and ease.
“Please. This whole ‘relationship’ is questionable at best.” The Wellington lawyer points an accusing finger at Callie. My hands ball into fists, and I want to take a swing at him for pointing at her like she’s done something wrong. “How are we to know what type of environment the defendant has actually subjected his son to? For all we know, he’s brought a string of tramps through his child’s life over these years, and this is merely the latest one.”
“Objection!” John says.
“Sustained. This is a warning, Counsel.” The mediator, a round-faced woman with short wavy hair and eyes rimmed in black makeup, shakes her head.
“Withdrawn.” His smug expression leaves no question that the damage is already done by putting that image out there. Again, I have the urge to stand up and punch the lawyer. I wait for John to throw a hand out to restrain me, but it’s the soft palm on my shoulder that I feel. I turn and see Callie’s concerned expression, and somehow it calms me.
