When I reentered the apartment, I found Ronan at the kitchen island, drinking his coffee. I joined him but remained careful to keep my distance.
“He seems nice. You’ve been friends a long time?”
“Since we were kids. Isaac’s the best.”
“You’re lucky. All my supposed friends ran like rats deserting a sinking ship after I went to prison.” Frowning, Ronan cradled his mug. “I guess I shouldn’t blame them. Who would want to be associated with someone like me?” His bitterness came as no surprise, not after what I’d heard the night before, but I didn’t want to have that discussion now. He had a hearing today he needed to be concerned about.
“I’m going to my room,” I told Ronan. The more space I put between us, the better, as I wanted to grab and hold him and tell him it would be okay. That we’d work it out together.
“Are you packing? Leaving as well?” He seemed resigned.
“No. You have the hearing at ten today, and I need to shower and get ready. Not enough time for us to start running today.”
Ronan set the mug on the island carefully. “You’re staying? After…what happened? You’re not quitting on me?”
I made sure to keep the wide quartz counter between us. “As long as we know that what happened last night won’t be repeated. I won’t call it a mistake, but as I said, it was a breach of professional conduct on my part.”
More solemn than I’d ever seen him, Ronan nodded. “I understand. And thanks. I won’t put you in that position again. I was a little emotional.”
I tried to keep it casual. “Anything you want to talk about?” I hoped he’d want to open up and tell me about the conversation that had set him off, but the shutters rolled down over his face.
“No, nothing. I’d better get ready too. My lawyer wants to meet half an hour before court. I’ll see you in a little while.”
He left, and I wondered if I was making a mistake by staying.
***
“All rise.”
In the courtroom, I stayed in the row behind Ronan, who looked young and nervous. He’d shaved and put on a suit, but I liked him better with a dusting of scruff and in jeans and a T-shirt. Either way, I hated seeing the nerves eating him up inside. Sweat glistened on his face, and he kept twisting his hands in his lap. He threw me a panicked glance, which I returned with a reassuring smile.
“Case number two-zero-two-one-dash-four-five-six. Judge Rebecca Wilcox presiding.”
Everyone in the half-empty courtroom took their seats after the bailiff’s introduction of the case.
“Mr. Michaels.” The judge peered at him over her laptop, a dour expression on her face. “We’re here today to finalize the government’s case. I’ve been assured by the prosecution that any and all open matters against you have been settled. That being the case, your accounts are now unfrozen and all your assets available for use.” Her attention shifted to the other side of the room, where the lineup of federal, state, and city attorneys stood. “Is that correct, Ms. Reynolds?”
The lead attorney from the Justice Department’s Restitution Division, a woman in her midforties in a conservative charcoal-gray suit, gave a brisk nod. “It is, Your Honor. All open cases against Mr. Michaels are now considered closed.”
Judge Wilcox’s gaze returned to Ronan’s table. “Mr. Jacobsen?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Michaels is ready and willing to accept.”
“I’m sure he is.” Her lips thinned, but I couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace. “Mr. Michaels. I know you served time and are now working on your community service. I want to warn you, however, that the terms of your release are still in full effect. You are not allowed to work in the financial or legal fields.”
“I understand, Your Honor. I have no intention of ever working in a law firm or financial institution again.”
Ronan’s lawyer took up for him. “My client is aware and is concentrating on his community service work. After court today, he is due to report to the children’s ward at New York Hospital, where he runs the Book Wagon, giving out books to children in the cancer ward.”
“Good. This hearing is concluded.” She pounded the gavel.
“All rise.”
We stood. Ronan bent his head to listen to his lawyer, then with a squeeze to his shoulder, Jacobsen picked up his briefcase and left, giving me a brisk nod as he passed my row, but my concentration was on Ronan, who remained standing at the desk.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go. Don’t want to be late for the hospital.”
