“Heather.” He turns to face me fully, his expression serious. “You are more important than practice. More important than hockey. Than any of it. I’m exactly where I need to be right now.”
My throat tightens, and I’m so grateful even though I do feel more than a little guilty for dragging him away from the sport I know he still loves.
“Thank you,” is all I can say without becoming a blubbering mess here in the parking lot.
God, this whole ordeal has my emotions completely out of whack. That’s another thing I’ll be happy to see return to normal. It’ll be nice not to feel like I’m going to cry or scream or vomit—or all of the above—every time I turn around.
He leans over and kisses me, gentle and reassuring. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We walk into the courthouse together, and even though he keeps his hand steady on the small of my back, my nervousness ratchets up with every step. My palms are sweating. My heart is racing. I keep reaching into my purse to touch the elephant, over and over like it might actually protect me from the confrontation that I know is coming.
“I’m right here,” he says, leaning close enough that only I can hear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
We find the right courtroom, and Grant’s lawyers are already waiting outside. We’ve teleconferenced with them enough that I recognize each of them—Richard, the lead attorney, Jennifer Stahl with her sharp eyes, and Mario Wise, who is already busy reviewing notes on his tablet.
“Ms. Lucas,” Richard says, extending his hand. “Good to see you again. Are you ready?”
“Ready to get this over with and put this day behind me.” I shake his hand, then Jennifer’s and Mario’s. They look sharp and relaxed, but not even a little bit complacent. Grant assured me he was hiring the best of the best, and I believe that’s exactly what he did with this team.
Just one more reason for me to be eternally grateful to this wonderful, kind, caring man.
“We’re going to take good care of you,” Jennifer says. “We’ve reviewed all the documentation you provided, and we feel very confident about this case.”
Mario nods. “The plaintiff’s claim is weak at best. He abandoned his parental rights for nine years. That’s not something a judge takes lightly.”
“He’ll still try to cause trouble and make a scene.” I grimace. “That’s what he does best.”
“He can try, but he won’t get very far.” Richard sounds so confident that I can almost let myself believe him. “Trust us. We know what we’re doing.”
I nod, but there’s still some lingering fear coiling tight in my chest.
“Let’s head inside,” he continues. “We’ll want to get settled before the judge arrives.”
Grant’s hand finds the small of my back again as we walk through the heavy wooden doors into the courtroom. It’s smaller than I expected, and more intimate, which makes it even worse. Once everyone is here, we’ll all just be a few feet away from each other.
We walk to one of the tables in front of the judge’s bench, and that’s when I see Steven.
He’s sitting at the opposite table with his own lawyer, and the sight of him makes everything inside me go cold.
He glances over and our eyes lock. He’s wearing that old, familiar, smug expression that makes me believe he honestly thinks he’s going to win today.
His fake, predatory smile widens and I don’t even realize I’ve stopped moving until Grant quietly clears his throat and pulls out a chair for me.
“Keep moving, Hurricane. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
I nod and take a seat, forcing my eyes to look forward and focus on the judge’s bench—and only the judge’s bench.
But like a moth to a flame, I keep letting my eyes wander over to the opposing table. I can still feel Steven’s eyes on me even though I’m not fully looking at him, and every second that passes makes me feel more vulnerable and nervous.
And then he stands up and walks around the front of his table, making my stomach tie itself into knots until he stops directly in front of me.
“Heather,” he says when I finally look up to meet his gaze again. “I didn’t think you’d actually have the nerve to show up today.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” is the most civil greeting I can manage.
“Not surprising, but I can still tell you’re a nervous wreck. I guess I would be, too, if I was about to be exposed as an unstable, homeless?—”
“That’s enough.” Grant is on his feet so fast that I flinch and Steven takes a half-step back. “Go take your seat and keep your mouth shut.”
