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He raised his water glass to me in a small, sad salute.
“Good for you, Red,” he said. “I’m sure your family will be happy to have you back.”
Before I could reply, our server arrived with the check, which Brandon paid with a hundred-dollar bill without even glancing at the final tally. Our meal couldn’t have cost more than half that.
“Come on,” he said, standing up. “Let’s take a walk. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
He leaned down so I couldn’t avoid his piercing blue stare. A lock of dark-blond hair flopped onto his forehead, and I fought the urge to muss up the rest just to feel its softness once more.
“Please?” he asked, holding his hand flat out for me.
I sighed. “All right,” I said and let him pull me up from my chair and out of the restaurant.
I tried and failed to ignore the electricity passing between our fingers. He gripped my hand so hard I thought he might never let go.
* * *
“So,I have something to show you,” Brandon said as we walked amiably into Riverside Park and down to the Charles, where the crew team was out for its afternoon practice.
It was the same route we’d taken several times before on our occasional runs. There was the bench where he’d given me his sweatshirt…the tree trunk where he’d cornered me in the sunlight and started—I shook away the memories that kept flooding back. No good could come from reminiscing now.
He hadn’t let go of my hand since leaving The Yard, but did so now to withdraw a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves in the restaurant, and now the face of his Rolex gleamed against his tanned skin. His forearm flexed as he handed the paper to me.
“What’s this?”
I scanned the document. It appeared to be a photocopy of an agreement signed by both him and Miranda—an agreement to meet for arbitration in a month to finalize a settlement.
“It’s binding, that’s what. Once we leave that room, we’re done for good.”
I looked up and handed the document back to him. “Why now?”
Brandon sighed. “Because it’s time. Because I threatened to take it to trial if she didn’t, and my bluff paid off. She doesn’t want this public any more than I do. Miranda has been incredibly stubborn. She said it’s because she’s Catholic, but I don’t really think that’s why she hasn’t signed anything so far.”
I snorted. “No, it wouldn’t be. Not with billions of dollars at stake.”
He continued as if I hadn’t said anything. “Half of Boston is Catholic. I thought it wouldn’t matter. I didn’t mind supporting her, not really, and I figured I’d never want to marry anyone again anyway, so what did it matter if I stayed married to her? Technically, anyway. But then…well, you read my letters. At least I hope you did.”
“Yes, I read them.”
I kicked a rock off the path with my toe and watched it tumble down the sloping grass toward the river. The idea of him staying married caused a ringing in my ears, and the intensity of what he was implying made my heart pound so hard that I tried hard to block out by focusing on the crunch of gravel under my feet.
“So now she’s suddenly going to agree?” I asked.
Brandon shrugged. “We talked. I told her…I told her that I’m ready to move on.”
His eyes softened at me briefly, but he wisely chose not to pursue that line of thinking. Instead, he slapped his hands together and rubbed his palms as if preparing for battle.
“It’s not going to be cheap, that’s for sure. She’s angry and has new representation from Stern and Bouvier. You know them?”
I nodded. Everyone knew them. They were the most cutthroat divorce lawyers in the city, the kind of attorneys who encouraged their clients to throw around false accusations of domestic abuse and the like to earn sympathy in court. They would dig up every piece of dirt on Brandon they could find and make him seem like the worst husband possible. It wouldn’t matter that Massachusetts was a no-fault state—there were lots of ways to gain sympathy.
“Please tell me you’re not going to self-represent,” I said.
“Why, you want to be my lawyer?”
I snorted again. “Seriously, Brandon, you’re going to be smart about it, aren’t you? You have to keep your mouth shut. They’ll make you look like an ass without blinking an eye.”
“You sound like my lawyers.”
