In the hallway outside the courtroom, Nico pulls me into a fierce hug. "You did it," she whispers. "You're free."
I pull back, smiling through tears I didn't realize I was crying. "I'm free."
Patricia joins us, a rare smile on her usually stern face. "Well done, Snow. You handled yourself beautifully."
"Thank you," I say, my voice thick with emotion.
As we're standing there, I notice Nico's attention has drifted to a dark-haired man leaning against the far wall. He catches her eye and smiles.
"Friend of yours?" I ask.
"Something like that," she says, flustered in a way I've never seen.
The man approaches, nods to me. "Congratulations, Snow." His eyes return to Nico. "I'll see you around."
When he disappears into the crowd, Nico's blushing. "Don't ask. Today is about you."
I let it drop, but I'm filing it away for later.
Patricia excuses herself to handle paperwork, and Nico gives me one last fierce hug before heading off — though I suspect that involves a certain mysterious man.
And then it's just me, standing in the courthouse hallway. I push through the courthouse doors and step out into the bright afternoon sunlight — and there he is. Wyatt, leaning against the stone railing, his hands in his pockets, looking like he's been waiting for me his whole life.
The moment he sees me, he straightens, his eyes searching my face.
"It's done," I say, and my voice breaks a little. "It's over."
He closes the distance between us in three strides and pulls me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
"I'm so proud of you," he murmurs against my hair. "So damn proud."
I'm about to say something when I hear it.
Music.
I pull back from Wyatt, confused, and then I see them.
A woman in a sequined dress and a feather boa, someone with a ukulele, a small group of performers setting up on the courthouse steps. A small crowd is already gathering, phones out, sensing something entertaining is about to happen.
"Oh my God," Nico breathes, appearing at my elbow. "I swear I didn't arrange this."
The singer in the feather boa waves, grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Snow!" she calls out. "We heard there might be a special performance opportunity today!"
And then it clicks. The singing telegram group from Preston's office. They're here. I start laughing. I can't help it.
And then Preston emerges from the courthouse.
He's flanked by his lawyer and his parents, his face still red with humiliation.
The moment the singer sees Preston, her grin widens. The ukulele player launches into a jaunty tune, and the singer begins:
"Once there was a man who thought he had it all,
A wife, a fortune, standing proud and tall!
But he couldn't keep it in his pants, oh no,
Now he's lost it all!"
