“Counsel, please step forward,” the judge’s commanding voice echoes through the courtroom.
Cain strides forward with his usual silent confidence, flanked by the opposing lawyer for the smug asshole who’s been trying to sue me over nothing.
Apparently, the cuts on his hands and throat from the fight he started, and the bottlehebroke, are somehow my fault. At least, that's been his stance throughout the last three months of litigation during this case from hell.
It’s my final court appearance, and I can feel the weight of the past few months finally loosening its grip on me. The promise of putting this mess behind me has excitement thrumming in my veins. But it’s not just the idea of getting this all dropped that has me excited, it’s about what the future might look like for me and Rosie once we’re no longer pretending.
The judge exchanges a few quiet words with Cain and the other lawyer while I tug nervously at my tie. I fucking hate thesethings. Only wear them if coach tells me I need to during post-game interviews or press days. But today it feels more like a noose.
I watch them closely, desperate to glean something from their expressions, but Cain’s face is a masterclass in poker-faced indifference. I swear if I were Rhiannon, I’d never know if he were happy or sad.
When they finally turn around, my heart is in my throat.
“Ruling in favor of Mr. Tremblay,” the judge announces, his voice steady and firm. “This case is dismissed based on the evidence that’s been presented to the courts. Mr. Tremblay, I trust this serves as a reminder to avoid situations like this in the future. You’re too important to the Mayhem’s season, and to your wife. Don’t mess up this second chance.”
I nod quickly, my voice steady. “Yes, sir.”She doesn’t need me but I sure as hell do.
The gavel comes down with a decisive bang, and I can’t help it, I’m grinning like a fool now.
Relief, joy, and triumph mix into one wild cocktail of emotions. I want to hug Cain. Hell, I want to kiss him. But I keep it together, at least until we step out onto the icy streets of New York City.
Then, like a madman, I punch the air in victory, my boots slipping slightly on the slick pavement which turns into me doing an impromptu boot skating session all over the walkway while I shake my ass and onlooker’s stare.
“I’m free!” I shout at no one in particular.
“Is that Boone Tremblay from the Mayhem?”I hear one of them whisper before pulling out their phone to snap a picture. I don’t even mind. I smile wide before they ask for an autograph that I give willingly.
Cain shakes his head when they walk away giggling, a smile tugging at his lips. “You remind me of my wife.”
I laugh. “Thanks, man. From what Rosie’s told me about Rhiannon; I’ll take that as the highest compliment you can offer me.”
“Things always seem to work out for her too despite how much trouble she gets herself into. But she’s constantly full of joy,” he replies flatly. But I can hear the fondness beneath his words.
“Walk with me,” he says abruptly, already striding down the street like a man on a mission.
Lucky for him, I’ve got nowhere else to be this afternoon. Rosie’s working late again based on the text she sent earlier, and we’ve got plans to celebrate tonight before the Prescott PR team pulls the plug on our marriage tomorrow evening with their staged breakup.
The thought makes my stomach churn, but I push it aside. Tonight, Rosie’s mine. Tonight, we’re still married. Tonight, she’s still my wife. And she knows what I have planned for the future now, too.
Cain doesn’t say much as we walk, but when he stops outside a tiny café—the kind with handmade pastries and freshly brewed coffee that Penn’s always raving about—I follow him in.
The scent of sugar and warm espresso hits me like a hug. Rosie would love this place. I wonder if there’s anything like this back in Brookhaven. I wonder if I could open one like this there.
I focus on Cain as he leads us to a table. A server takes our order—black coffee for him, hot chocolate for me—and then disappears. There are only a few other couples inside and thankfully, none of them recognize me because I’m squirming in my seat, excitement buzzing through my veins.
“How are you feeling?” Cain asks me, his voice even.
“Great. Giddy.”
He raises a brow. “I’ve never heard a grown man describe himself as giddy before.”
I smile and hold up my left hand to show him my ring finger. “Well, I’ve got a lot to be giddy about.”
He looks at the ring then back at me. The server returns with our drinks. I wrap my hands around the warm mug, letting the rich scent of chocolate distract me from the big night I have planned with Rosie.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Tomorrow’s the fight. Then the divorce paperwork gets filed on Monday.”
“Got it.”
