Page 96 of Just Forever

“And I didn’t have my license or any other documents with me. No phone either.”

“And?” I say when he clamps his mouth shut again.

Lake rolls his eyes and gives a dramatic sigh. “And it turns out—to my total surprise, by the way—that not all people appreciate some light sarcasm.”

“You were mouthing off to a cop?” I ask. I’m not sure if I should laugh or if disbelief would be a more apt reaction.

Lake raises his index finger. “I was not mouthing off.” Then he seems to consider those words for a second. “Although the word ‘fuck’ was used liberally and in a variety of versions.”

I blow out a breath and shake my head. “Only you.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m not too happy with myself right now either. It was pretty fucking stupid, and I have no idea what the consequences will be. Guessing by my luck so far this might be my last meal as a free man before a SWAT team charges in here and carts me off to prison.”

“I’ll look into conjugal visits.”

He gently kicks my shin with the toe of his sneaker.

“We’ll get a lawyer if it comes down to it.”

He drags his fingers through his hair and thumps his forehead against the table.

“They’ll expel me.”

Lake still looks a bit contemplative, but then he nods.

“There’s more,” he says.

“Lay it on me.”

He glances out the window before his gaze locks on me again. “Scott knows we’re married. I don’t know how, but he had a copy of our marriage certificate. Like leverage. Run to the press and I’ll do the same. That kind of thing.”

A part of me expected to be at least a little bit rattled by this—the knowledge that people might find out. That there’s a likelihood now that Scott or whoever else might do something with the truth. Twist and bend it. Turn it into something ugly.

It’s an illogical kind of fear. An abstract fear. I’m not even sure what, exactly, I’m most apprehensive about. The unwanted attention? Some nameless, faceless nobody judging us from afar? The life we’ve carefully built for ourselves being picked apart? Things changing? I’m not sure.

But then I look at Lake, and everything else becomes noise.

Because Lake is here. He’s here. With me. And no matter what happens, he isn’t going anywhere.

I know that, deep in my bones.

We’re not going anywhere.

“He can very much go and fuck himself,” I say. “There’s zero chance I’ll let him have a say in what you and I do or say.”

Lake presses his lips together for a moment before he nods. He eyes me carefully, with at least some caution. It’s that look he sometimes gets when he’s not sure if I fully understand what I’m getting myself into.

I keep my eyes on him. I don’t look around to check whether anybody’s looking at us. And I take his hand in mine.

“I love you,” I say, without making any effort to lower my voice into a covert whisper. Because that would imply I want to hide this, and I don’t. “That’s the only thing that matters. I love you, and I want you.” I shrug. “I’m going to have a life with you.” I repeat the words I told him once before. “Fuck everybody else.”

It looks like he doesn’t even breathe for the longest time, but then he’s smiling at me, wide and open. And he squeezes my hand.

“Fuck everybody else.”

I nod toward his empty plate. “Are we done here?”

He nods. “I’d say so.”

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