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“I’m about to go away, Hailey.” He looks to the two-way mirror. “Your boy needs to know: If I find him in Vegas, if I find him in my city, even from prison, he will pay. He’s been retired to keep you and Marisa from my past. Leave it there. Walk away today and stay the fuck away. I wanted to give you better than I had, and whether you believe that or not, I did. If Aces returns to my world, I’ll get to him. No. Matter. What. The part you need to comprehend is you’re over to me—debt paid. Now it’s about my life. No one’s gonna take me out for something that’s done and over, and that is you. Aces, you, and Marisa stay the fuck away or you’re dead. Got it?”
I nod my head, seeing just how serious he is. My mind can’t process all that has transpired here today. Somehow, in his mind, Monte has justified what he did to me. He doesn’t give me an apology. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness, not that I ever thought he would. He doesn’t clue me in on the dangers I may face. Once again, he is in control.
As he looks over the papers, my mind races. Will he sign them?
Finally, he picks up the pen and twirls it in his fingers. Minutes tick by, feeling like hours, before he looks at me.
“If he fucks up, Hailey . . . I don’t even need to say it again, comprehend?” At those last words, he signs the documents, relinquishing all rights to Marisa.
I blow out a breath as the door opens and two guards come in to escort Monte to the courtroom.
He signed the papers. I am done with Sean “Monte” Timmons. I have my baby girl, free and clear.
Morrison enters the room, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me as if I am his last breath. I grip his sports coat as I get dizzy from the emotions and his kiss. Then the DA comes in and clears his throat, breaking our moment.
“Time to go,” the DA says, and then turns to me. “I’ll get those notarized”—he points to my paperwork—“and I’ll be the witness to him signing them so we can file them at the courthouse today for you, Ms. Poe.”
Handing him the papers, I smile in relief. Then Morrison laces our fingers together and we make our way into the courtroom, where we take our seats behind the prosecutor’s chair and wait. The jurors file in, and once everyone is seated, the bailiff escorts Monte in, then we all stand as the judge enters. My nerves must show, because Morrison squeezes my hand in silent reassurance.
It’s all a blur until the judge asks Monte for his plea. He stands and looks to Morrison and then me before turning back to the judge.
“Guilty.”
I fight back a gasp. He isn’t going to fight it? Is this some game? Could he really be telling the truth? Was this all his way of protecting me? I don’t know—and I can’t dwell on it. I have my daughter, and in the end, he’s going away for a few years, regardless.
They move on to sentencing. Monte gets four years with the possibility of parole. The earliest he can get out will be the three-year mark, and we have been reassured that will take some work.
I have my daughter. I keep reminding myself of that. I have Marisa. She’s what matters. I can face anything anyone throws at me as long as I have her.
Boarding the plane for Detroit, I can’t stop smiling. I have no desire to ever go back to Vegas. Today, I leave the past behind me and move toward my future with unlimited possibilities. When I get off this plane, I’m going home to my family. The family I have never had before is waiting.
I am giving Marisa everything I never had. This feels good.
I squeeze Morrison’s hand as we settle into our seats. “It feels good, Caldwell.”
“That it does, little momma.” He winks at me before kissing my temple softly.
Two Months Later
Life is good. When I worked at the casino, there was this little old man who always had the same answer when asked how he was doing today.
“I’m doing fine, just fine. I’m better than good,” he would reply every time without fail.
Life is just that—better than good.
I have my daughter, my man, and family. Well, I have my daughter and my man every night but Wednesdays. Keeping with tradition, Morrison and Marisa have their weekly date night, and Mom is not invited. I love that she has this.
Love . . . It’s a funny thing. It is scary. It is overwhelming. It is amazing.
I never had a prom date. Hell, I never had a boyfriend until Morrison. I have never had the chance to express these feelings to anyone other than Momma and Marisa. And the love I feel for them, although just as powerful, is completely different from what I feel for Morrison.
