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“That isn’t the reason, Gramps,” William said, coming to Joy’s defense. “Juanita’s actions, of which we are not going to discuss, more than justifies her decision.” William felt the same way about his mother too. For the time being, he was keeping Joy away from both of them.

But Joy was tired of sweeping things under the rug. “They paid her to lie on me,” she said bluntly.

Gramps was confused. “Who paid her to lie on you?”

Joy didn’t want to put William’s mother on front street, but she wasn’t sugarcoating any of it any longer. “William’s mother,” she said, and everybody looked at William.

Gramps did too. “Yo’ mammy pitted Juanita against her own daughter?”

“She didn’t put a gun to Ma’s head, Gramps. She didn’t have to take the money. She could have come to me. But she didn’t. Don’t you blame that lady.”

“I blame her,” said William. “My mother orchestrated the whole thing.”

“But why?” Bobby asked.

William hated to admit it. “She doesn’t believe my wife is good enough.”

“For you?”

“Oh no. Anybody’s good enough for me in her eyes. But nobody’s good enough for our bloodline in her eyes unless they are among the wealthiest of wealthy blue bloods specifically in her social circles.”

Gramps nodded his head. “Oh. You mean like more of that Nazi, white supremacy social circles bullshit?”

“Yes,” William agreed.

Then Gramps shook his head. “You can pick’em, Netta. You sho’ can pick’em.”

William and Joy both felt the sting of that comment. But neither responded. William sat back down on Joy’s bed.

Then a natural silence overtook the room and Joy and William found themselves staring at each other. Max returned to the room, but the conversation didn’t pick back up.

But William and Joy were having a nonverbal conversation with their eyes. There was so much love between them, but so many problems too, that it always had the feeling of being sweet but bittersweet at the same time. As if there was always something. As if there was always that other shoe waiting to drop. Was it always going to be that way?

But Joy placed her hand on the hand William had resting on the opposite side of her. “Thank you for saving my life,” she said heartfelt. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always protect you, Joynetta,” William responded equally heartfelt. “You do know that, right?” It would break his heart if she didn’t feel safe with him.

But Joy couldn’t answer that question. Because she didn’t know hardly anything for certain anymore. She would have never dreamed William would hurt her. But he devastated her.

But thinking about protection, she thought about her bodyguard. “What about Michael?” she asked him instead. “I remember Michael going down. I remember Michael and your driver were the first two people that gunman shot at.”

William nodded. “He shot Iverson first, yes. And then my driver. But both are here in Fort Wayne at this hospital too. The driver is in stable condition. Michael Iverson’s in ICU, but the doctors expect him to make a full recovery as well. My personal physician is on his way to oversee his recovery.”

Joy considered William. Leave it to him to look out for his employee, a man who was nowhere near the top of the chain. But William was thoughtful and caring that way.

And that was why Joy squeezed his hand. And why tears welled up in her eyes. She knew he was a good man. She’d seen it too many times before. It was such a shame that they weren’t on good terms. It was such a shame that all wasn’t well with them. Because it wasn’t. She would never pretend that it was when it clearly wasn’t.

But tears in Joy’s eyes were something William still could not handle. She might resist. She might lash out at him. But he didn’t care. He lifted her into a sitting up position, and then he pulled her into his arms. He held her as tightly as he reasonably could.

But she refused to be coddled and let her weakness for him overtake her sense. She pulled back from him and curtly wiped her tears away. “Do we know anything about the gunman yet?” she asked him instead.

William didn’t like the way she pulled back from him, but he understood it. They weren’t there yet. They were a long way from there yet. He looked at Max. “What do we know so far?”

Everybody was interested to know too. They all looked at Max. “The name of the shooter is Tim Jamison.” Max began looking around. “That name ring a bell to anybody?”

Nobody knew him.

“So we don’t know why he did it or anything like that?” Joy asked him.