“Is that a rhetorical question?” Judge Rowe asks. “Because if it’s not, and I’m supposed to answer, I don’t think you’re going to like what I’m going to say.”
She scoffs and waves a manicured hand our way. “He’s basically a pedophile!”
Owen’s flinch is so small, you’d miss it if you weren’t watching, which I was.
“He groomed her,” Leah rushes out. “It’s sick. I don’t want my little girl around that!”
Judge Rowe holds up a hand to Leah and looks directly at my mother. “How old was your daughter when you introduced him to Mr. Monahan?”
“Eighteen, Your Honor,” Mom says firmly. “These are baseless claims, and quite frankly, defamatory.”
He nods and turns back to meet Leah’s gaze. “I’ve seen enough here.”
“Sir,” Leah’s attorney finally pipes up. “My client is worried that her ex-husband’s instability will impact their children and?—”
“Your client is the problem,” Judge Rowe barks out. “Do you hear that, ma’am? You’re creating problems that don’t exist. I, for one, won’t stand for it. The existing custody agreement remains as is.” He narrows his eyes at her. “However, if we show up in court for more of these witch hunts, I’ll be forced to examineyourability to provide a stable, safe environment for your children. You are to call off the private investigator immediately. There’s enough here to make a case for stalking and harassment and I know you don’t want this all turned around on you.”
Leah gapes at him. “Your Honor, I, uh…”
He waits for her to continue but her lips snap shut. With a nod, he says to her, “Thank you. It’s in your best interest to stop this obsession and move on with your life. Mr. Monahan is trying to move on with his. Are we clear?”
The courtroom is silent for what feels like an eternity.
“I understand, sir,” she says in defeat.
“With that,” Judge Rowe murmurs, “consider this resolved.”
Finally. I hope that’s the end of it.
Smoke & Sugar is busy with their lunchtime crowd, but we secured a table big enough for everyone. Christopher picked up Carol along the way and Owen’s kids met us here. It’s strange to think that several months ago, I was so lonely I couldn’t stand it. Now, my relationship with Mom is improving more and more each day and I have two more families to join mine. Maybe Marrying Owen was the best thing Mom ever could have donefor us because it brought me to him and forced her to go after her own happiness.
Owen has my chair close to his and drapes a possessive arm around the back of it. I lean into him, inhaling his familiar, comforting scent. Addison babbles to Penny about some show they’re going to watch later. Cason regales Carol with his investigative journalism YouTube page while Mom and Christopher listen with interest. Rhett sulks and rapid-fire texts on his phone. I’m not sure what that’s all about.
“Everything okay with Rhett?” I ask Owen softly.
“He’s struggling with something,” he murmurs. “I’ve been trying to get it out of him, but I think he’s keeping things from me for my own stress levels. I think I’m just going to have to get him alone and force it out of him.”
Guilt niggles at me. When Owen’s not at work and I’m not in class, we spend every waking moment together. I hope it’s not hurting his relationship with his oldest son.
Rhett catches me staring at him and he smirks. It has relief flooding through me. I’m grateful for Rhett’s friendship. Of all Owen’s kids, I have the most in common with Rhett. He has good taste in music, and he got me obsessed with watching soccer. I’ve even gone to the movies and shopping with him and his girlfriend a few times when Owen had to work. Now that I’m not babysitting Penny so much in the evenings, I’m free to have friends and hang out. I thought I’d be sad, but it’s been nice.
I playfully stick my tongue out at Rhett which causes him to smile.
“Maybe if I can’t get it out of him,” Owen says, “you can. I know you guys have coffee time after I head to work in the mornings before class.”
“I’ll try.” And I will. This is my family now.
Soon, our meals are brought out, and we celebrate with good food and even better company.
I wake with a start, sensing Owen getting out of bed. I’m exhausted, but his safety is my priority. I slip out of bed and trail after him. He moves quickly and races down the stairs. My heartbeat hammers in my chest, fully waking me by the time I reach the bottom.
In the past when he sleepwalked—which has been fewer than a handful of times in the past couple of months—he went straight to the backyard. This time, he heads for the living room. Something soft under my foot has me halting.
A rose petal.
No, a trail of them leading toward the fireplace.
There, standing in front of the fire with more roses than I’ve ever seen in one place, is Owen, grinning and wide awake.
