Page 27 of Attorney Privilege
"What do you think you"—Conner almost trips over his own feet. He is a freaking mess. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face is red and blotchy. His shirt doesn't even have the buttons fastened correctly—“think you're doing?" he finishes when he steadies himself. "She's mine."
He tries to take a swing at Gideon, who merely side-steps it. Conner goes tumbling to the marble flooring, and I cringe.
"Is there anything in your room we need to collect?" Gideon asks me, and I shake my head.
Gideon is so casual as Conner struggles back to his feet. One of the people with the cameras asks Conner about an orgy, but he ignores them, going for Gideon again.
"Gamer," Gideon sighs like he’s over this.
I stick my foot out to trip him at the same time Gideon hits him in the jaw. Conner crumples to the floor, and Gideon's attention turns back to me, ignoring everything else around us.
"Did you say we were getting married?" I ask him.
"Yes." He swings me up into his arms, carrying me toward the lobby exit. Charlie is waiting for us, standing by the SUV and holding the back door open. He winks at me before Gideon gets inside, keeping me in his lap.
“Straight to the courthouse?” Charlie asks.
“Yes,” Gideon says.
“Wait, isn't there paperwork? A prenup?” I tease.
“Oh, there will be paperwork. A contract that will be unbreakable. One that you sign by saying I do.”
Looks like I got the knight in shining armor after all.
Epilogue
GIDEON
Ten years later…
* * *
“The roses are coming in beautifully this year,” I tell Emerson as I spread out the blanket. “As always.”
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” She places the picnic basket on the ground beside the blanket, and we sit down on it.
“Maybe, but I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”
The day Emerson chose me, she told me she didn’t want this house. But after we got married, I drove her out here, and she immediately changed her mind. When I picked it out, I envisioned us making this our forever home, and it has been. The first time we saw the house, I carried her over the threshold, and we made love on the floor in the foyer. Since then, I’d say we’ve made love on every available surface, including several walls.
We’ve brought two babies through the front door, celebrated countless birthdays and holidays, and Emerson’s created the garden of her dreams. This is where we’ve become a family and fallen deeper and deeper in love.
In the backyard she’s grown roses in a maze with the center open for us to spend time together. My mother has the kids this afternoon, and I gave the staff the day off, so that means we’ve got the place to ourselves.
When I asked Charlie about leaving Emerson’s parents' home and coming to work for her, he was excited to go. But he mentioned how the rest of the staff adored her and that they might like the opportunity to come as well. So that’s what I did. I hired all the staff that previously looked after Emerson and now they look after our children and home too. Only now they get paid vacation, insurance, and retirement plans. Emerson and I were in total agreement that if we had staff, it was our responsibility to take care of them because they took care of us. Seeing her chart a new path, one so different from her mother, has been inspiring.
She lies back on the blanket and stares up at the clouds as I roll on my side to look down at her.
“Am I doing the right thing?” she asks, not meeting my eyes.
“You are doing what’s right for you,” I say and brush the hair away from her face. “You can’t base your decisions on what other people might think or assume.”
Last week, Emerson’s mother came by wanting to talk. Emerson has been no-contact since the day she walked out of the wedding, not that they tried to contact her either. So it was a surprise when she rang the doorbell. I refused to let her inside. I thought she would say something about missing her daughter, but instead she asked me for money. She didn’t even pretend to care about Emerson or the grandchildren she’s never met. It was a pleasure when the cops rolled up and I got to watch her scurry out of there.
Clearly it was a last-ditch effort to regain some status among her friends, because from what Emerson has seen on Page Six, they’ve lost it all and had to move. I have zero sympathy for them or Conner’s family. They’ve been smeared through the mud while Conner has been in and out of rehab for the past ten years. Last I heard, he took on some gambling debts with the wrong people and he’s been missing since.
“I know.” Emerson sighs and finally glances up at me. “I have no regrets.”
