“Mr. Grande,” Russell says, the moment we step through the door and into the lawyer’s office. “This is my fiancée, Juliette, and her son, Gus.”
The lawyer—Mr. Grande—stands up from behind his desk and smiles at us. He’s an older man, with a thinning head of white-gray hair and watery eyes. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and holds out a hand to me.
“Very nice to meet you, Juliette.”
“Please, call me Jules,” I say, taking his hand and giving him what I hope is an appropriate, firm shake. When I step back, Russell casually slips an arm around my shoulders, and the effect is a warm, soothing calm drifting down through my chest.
Gus leans his weight back against my legs, looking up at the lawyer. I can’t see his face, have no idea what he’s thinking about this interaction. I haven’t come out and told Gus that Russell and I are together—I’m not even sure what he would think about that—but he also hasn’t asked me any questions.
It occurs to me that maybe I should have had a conversation with him before this meeting.
“Alright, Jules, andGus,” Mr. Grande says, leaning down and offering his hand to Gus as well. Gus—to my surprise—reaches up and takes the lawyer’s large hand in his small one, shaking it with gusto.
“Are you a doctor?” Gus asks, which makes Mr. Grande laugh.
“No, no I am not,” he says. “Despite what you might think from the company I keep.”
“Russell is a doctor,” Gus widens his eyes, then glances at Russell surreptitiously, as though this might be new information for Mr. Grande.
“So, I’ve heard,” Mr. Grande laughs, nodding. “Seems like all my clients are.”
Gus unceremoniously finishes the conversation by turning and walking over to the toys under the window and dropping down onto his knees.
“What a bright young man,” Mr. Grande says, pulling his glasses from his face and wiping them with a little black cloth. “Now, shall we?”
He sweeps his arm over the desk and chairs, then turns and does an old-man hobble back to his own seat. He must be at least seventy, with his white hair and slow movements.
“Alright, well, as you know, we are here to discuss the terms of your father’s estate and if those terms have been met.” Mr. Grande clears his throat and shuffles around some papers on his desk, and I shift from side to side, trying not to look like I’m guilty of fraud.
All at once, the reality of what I’m doing settles over me—I’mlyingabout this relationship for personal gain. So Russell can get his inheritance. More than the fear of legal repercussions, I feel a sense of moral uncertainty.
Then, Russell reaches over and takes my hand, sandwiching it between his own and setting it on his thigh. It repositions my body, so I’m turned slightly toward him, my arm against his, and the warmth and contact soothe some of my worry.
Mr. Grande’s eyes dip to Russell’s hand, and something—pride?—moves over his face, a little too fast for me to catch.
Rather than feeling like an interview, talking with Mr. Grande feels more like meeting one of Russell’s old familyfriends. It’s clear that the lawyer has been working with the Burches for a long time, and might have even had a more friendly than professional relationship with Russell’s father.
Mr. Grande alludes to Russell’s childhood and asks us questions about how long we’ve been together. When I talk about how much of a relief it’s been to have Russell around, as a single mother, it doesn’t come off as fake or contrived.
And Russell talks about me.
“She’s a hard worker—juggling two jobsandraising Gus at the same time. I can’t think of a better role model for a kid.”
I know it’s just a show for the lawyer, but a little plume of pleasure swells up inside me at that perception. That Russell might think about me like that. That someone else might see and acknowledge how hard this has been for me.
And, for just a second, I wish that this whole thing was real. That I’d actually found a man who wanted to be a part of my little family.
A life in which another adult would be home, meeting me at the door after work. Someone to share a look with when Gus did something impossibly cute. Someone to help me not just take care of my son, but to take care of myself, too.
By the time the meeting is over, Mr. Grande seems to have completely bought our relationship, unless he’s just as good an actor as Russell. He says good-bye to Gus, and we’re spit out of the cozy law office and onto the frigid Chicago street, standing in the bright sun and squinting against the light reflecting off white snow.
I tighten Gus’s coat and try to figure out what happens next—Russell said he would take Gus tonight, but we have two hours before lunch and the whole afternoon before then.
“There’s our ride,” Russell says, before I can ask him what time he’ll be able to take Gus. I straighten up and watch a car pull up to the curb, a black Mercedes like before the gala.Turning to us, Russell cocks his head and asks, “I’ve got a few free hours. Who’s up for some shopping? Lunch?”
I open my mouth to decline, to tell him that it’s already too much, everything he’s bought for me, but Gus is already leaping forward, his little boots thudding against the sidewalk.
“Me! Can we go to the dino place?” he asks, not even blinking when Russell catches him and keeps him from hitting the ground.
