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We chat a bit more, then say goodbye. As the days flow onward, one melting into the next, I develop a routine of ringing Erica's parents every morning to check on things. All right, it's to check on Erica, and Deb and Frank know that. They humor me, though. And I think Frank might be warming up to me. He hadn't been rude before now, but at first, he didn't say much during our daily calls. Deb did most of the talking, and bloody hell, can that woman blether. I need a lie-down after every phone call, but I don't mind. I like Erica's parents very much, and I'm starting to feel like they're my family too.
Rory keeps me apprised of everything to do with Erica's court case. I speak with her attorney, Doretta Harper, multiple times. The woman doesn't seem to mind, and she clearly knows the law inside and out, which gives me hope that with Rory's help, she can save Erica from going to prison. Doretta also informs me of the date for the hearing where she will argue for a complete dismissal of the charges against Erica.
For two days, I try to talk myself out of going to America so I can be there to witness Erica's exoneration. I pace and back and forth in my living room so often and for so long that I think I must've worn a path in the wood floor. I haven't, of course. Finally, I can't hold myself back any longer. I fly to Chicago.
I arrive just in time for the hearing and sneak into the courtroom, sitting in the back row, near the corner, where Erica will be unlikely to see me. She must not want to, anyway. Since I'm meant to be giving her time to heal, I shouldn't have come to court. But I need to see her again, after all these uncounted days without her.
Erica wears a plain pantsuit, dark blue, appropriately somber for the courtroom. Even dressed that way, though, she is the sexiest woman in the world.
Perched on the edge of my chair, I listen intently as the judge issues his decision.
All charges dismissed. Erica is free.
Doretta drags Erica in for a big hug, and they both start laughing. Tears stream down Erica's cheeks, but this time, they're tears of joy. Her grin seems to light up the entire courtroom. That's barmy, but it's how I feel when I see that expression on her face. The only other time I've seen her smile like that was when I pretended to battle with a giant statue of Paul Bunyan.
My chest aches. My throat constricts. I want to go over there, pull Erica into my arms, and kiss her senseless. But I can't. Not yet.
Erica scans the courtroom with her gaze as if she's searching for someone. Her focus veers in my direction.
I hurry out of the courtroom, fairly certain she didn't see me. I wish she had. If she did see me, she doesn't run after me. Does that mean she still hasn't recovered from how badly I hurt her?
After leaving the courthouse, I make one stop on my way to the airport. All right, it's not quite on the way. Erica's house is in the precisely opposite direction from the airport, but I go there anyway to leave a gift on her doorstep. Maybe I shouldn't do that. I tried to talk myself out of it at least fifty times, but my heart overruled logic. I set the glass vase of flowers on her doorstep.
A handful of bell heather nestles among a dozen pink roses.
I haven't left a note. Not sure what I could've said. I hope she understands this is my way of congratulating her on the court decision and wishing her every good thing she deserves.
The next day, while I'm home in Scotland, another gift I chose for Erica is delivered to her home. While I waited in the Chicago airport for my flight to start boarding, an idea had struck me. I placed an order over the internet, choosing overnight shipping. She has received a bottle of Talisker and a note from me that says, "To celebrate your freedom. Congratulations,gràidh."
Not long after Erica's victory, I realize I need to make some changes in my life if I want to prove to Erica that I am committed to winning her back. My life hasn't been satisfying for a long time, and even my job doesn't fulfill me the way it once had. How can I promise Erica a happy life with me if I'm not happy? I won't be truly happy again until she's with me, but I can implement changes to start my journey to recovery. Aisley did more damage than I've wanted to admit—until that day in Erica's kitchen when I confessed everything. No one else on earth knows about the hell Aisley put me through or how I let her beat me down with her words and actions.
No more.
My plan is simple—finalize my divorce, rid myself of the past, and then beg Erica to take me back.
Rory laughs when I tell him that, but he's not being an ersehole. He thinks it's amusing that I've made a plan to win back the woman I love. Cannae see what's funny about it, but younger brothers can be strange and bloody irritating.
I sell my business. I sell my house in Inverness. I give up the lease on my Edinburgh apartment. Since I filed for divorce with adultery as the grounds for the dissolution of our marriage, I had to prove Aisley cheated. Rory's investigator found ample proof of that. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the adultery, but I needed to give grounds for the divorce and so I'd told Rory back when I first filed, though I asked him not to press the issue unless it became necessary. With the evidence the investigator found, we had more than enough leverage to stop my wife from stealing everything I own. Aisley will receive the proceeds from selling the Inverness house, and I gave her the lease for the Edinburgh flat.
She gave up on trying to get her greedy hands on the money I earned from my business. Even Aisley didn't want to go to court to explain why she cheated on me so many times, more than even I'd known.
Now, I am divorced. Officially and forever.
For the moment, I'm living with Rory in his castle, Dùndubhan. Aye, my younger brother owns a medieval castle not far from Ballachulish, where we both grew up. The nearest village to Rory's home is Loch Fairbairn, where he has his office. Rory doesn't like visitors, as a rule, but he volunteers to take me in once I tell him my plan to divest myself of everything that reminds me of my old life.
When I tell him about my latest gift to Erica, Rory laughs even harder.
I scowl at him while we're sitting at the dining-room table enjoying a bloody good meal prepared by his housekeeper, Mrs. Darroch. "Why are you laughing, Rory?"
"Because you think arranging a job for Erica will make her love you. She might be slightly annoyed when she finds out. Or she might batter you with a blunt object."
"Why? I've done this to help her. ThatcacanPresley Cichon comes from a powerful family, and they might blacklist her or…something."
Rory shrugs and goes back to eating his meal.
I call Deb Teague later that evening, and she informs me Erica turned down the job—but not because I arranged it for her. "She doesn't want to be an accountant anymore."
"That's not surprising. She told me it wasn't her dream job. What does she want to do now? I can help—"
