Listed: Volume III (9 page)

Emily
sat very close to him, much closer than she normally sat. Thinking she must be
anxious too, he adjusted so that his arm rested on the back of the seat behind
her, loosely draped around her shoulders.

She
looked up at him and smiled, a little wobbly. She looked as pale as he felt,
and she was having trouble sitting still.

The
reading of the verdict was not a closed hearing, so the courtroom was getting
crowded. Paul, however, was barely aware of the people filing in behind him,
chatting or laughing as if the outcome here had no real relevance on their
lives.

It
didn’t, of course. The lives of very few people would change because of what
the jury pronounced as their verdict.

But
Paul’s might.

He
noticed that Emily’s hands were twisting nervously in her lap. Since his right
arm was around her shoulders, he reached over with his left hand to cover both
of hers.

She
gripped his hand immediately. The fingers of one of her hands twined through
his, and the other curved around his from the outside.

She
wasn’t looking at him. She was looking forward to where the judge would be
sitting in a moment. Paul still felt awkward holding hands with her, with
anyone. He would do it if she needed him to, but it still left him feeling
decidedly out of his element. So he was relieved that she wasn’t looking at him
or trying to talk to him now. It made it easier somehow.

He
glanced at his watch. It shouldn’t be very long now.

Emily
had started fidgeting with his wedding band as if she just couldn’t keep her
hands still.

He
wished he could make her feel better, but it was all he could do to remain
composed himself.

Paul
closed his eyes and practiced breathing.

He
was about to hear whether or not his father was found guilty of crimes that
would put him in prison for life.

And
his wife was dying.

Just
then, Vincent Marino walked into the courtroom with his defense team, and
Hathaway and his assistant came in to sit at the opposite table.

His
father didn’t meet Paul’s eyes. He hadn’t really looked at him once, hadn’t
acknowledged his son even existed. Not even when Paul was sitting in the
witness stand for hours. Not even when he'd had to admit the naked, devastating
truth that he still wanted his father’s love.

The
judge and the jury came into the courtroom, and everyone fell silent.

The
world seemed to slow down into a surreal blur as the opening rituals were
performed, the verdict was handed to the judge to read silently, and then the
paper was handed back to be read out loud.

Still
in the slow blur, Paul saw his father and the defense team stand up to hear the
verdict.

His
pulse raced, but he was barely aware of it. His heart seemed to have slowed
down like the rest of the world. Emily was squeezing his hand so tightly he
thought he might lose circulation in his fingers, but he couldn’t process that
very much either. The thirty seconds might have lasted thirty minutes, and Paul
could do nothing but sit in his seat like a statue and wait.

Then
he heard, “Guilty,” and the world started moving again.

He
released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He heard Emily exhale
thickly too. Her body drooped as if she’d suddenly let go of all her tension.
Paul just blinked slowly.

He
sat in place, his arm still around Emily, his fingers still twined with hers.
He heard himself breathing—and it was too loud, too deep. For a moment, his
vision blurred over.

Emily
adjusted in her seat, gently slipping her hand out of his grip. “This is what
we wanted,” she murmured, very softly, so only he could hear, “Isn’t it?”

He
gave a slight nod. It
was
what he’d wanted. It was a good outcome. The
best outcome he could hope for out of none that were perfect.

It
meant his father—a man who had never admitted defeat, who had never been
cowed—would go to prison.

And
Paul might never see him again.

She
slid a hand up to his shoulder. Then to the back of his neck. “Are you okay?”
she asked, almost just breathing the words. The judge was trying to silence the
outburst of noise in the room by banging her gavel.

Paul
nodded again, holding Emily’s anxious gaze. He tried to smile at her, if only
to ease her concern.

She
didn’t press the question, which was good since he wasn’t sure he was capable
of talking coherently. They listened as the judge had his father remanded until
the sentencing hearing and the trial was dismissed.

They
stayed in place as Vincent Marino stood up to be escorted out of the room.

He
turned around, and his eyes landed unerringly on where Emily and Paul were
seated. His gaze was cool and almost amused as he made an elegant gesture with
one hand—a strange, two-fingered salute.

That
was aimed at Emily, who stiffened but met his gaze evenly.

Then,
for the first time, Vincent’s gaze slid over to Paul.

The
two men stared at each other for a long stretch of time, and Paul had no idea
how to read his father’s expression.

Then
Vincent inclined his head slightly, almost a nod. The gesture made Paul’s heart
lurch up into his throat.

Vincent
turned then and was led out of the room. He didn’t look back once.

Paul
just sat in his seat, staring at his father’s retreating back.

The
courtroom was starting to empty when Emily finally tugged on his arm. “We
should go, Paul,” she said gently. “Let’s go home.”

*
* *

That night, at about
midnight, Paul lay in the dark in his bedroom, wondering if Emily was going to
sleep with him tonight.

She’d
knocked on his door every night since the night he’d testified on the stand and
after he’d let his desire and need take control of his actions on the couch
with Emily. He could still get hard just thinking about how good, how sweet,
how responsive she’d felt in his arms.

But
he tried not to think about it. He’d already rubbed one out in the shower
earlier, which he’d learned was the only safe way to make it through a night
with Emily in his bed. If he started thinking about their heated embrace on the
couch, he’d have to get up and take another shower. Two nights ago, he’d had to
do that, and he’d barely dried off from his second round under the spray when
Emily had knocked softly on his door to come in.

Even
if her presence left him physically frustrated and unsatisfied, he still waited
for her every evening, not really able to relax and sleep without her.

He
wasn’t sure she was going to join him tonight. An hour ago, he’d heard her
talking on the phone to Chris in the media room. Maybe she would need privacy
afterwards. Maybe she wouldn’t want to sleep in his bed, since Chris was
obviously not happy about their marriage. Maybe she would want the space to
think about the guy she’d always had a crush on.

A
guy who wasn’t Paul.

He
tried not to brood about it. Told himself it was a good thing, since it would
give him a safer emotional distance from Emily. He’d gone too far as it was.

There
was no future with Emily that wasn’t going to rip him apart. Even if she
miraculously didn’t die, he’d have to let her go so she could live the life
she’d always wanted. If she pulled back from him now, it would probably hurt
less than it would later.

Midnight
came and went. Twelve-thirty came and went. Paul decided she wasn’t going to
come to him tonight.

He
rolled over a few times in the bed, trying to get comfortable. Trying not to
think about his father. Trying not to feel completely alone.

Some
things wouldn’t change. He’d lived his life alone—with only a few moments when
he’d believed he had someone to share it with. A mother. A lover. A friend. None
of them lasted.

He
wanted Emily with him now, but she wasn’t really his, no matter how much it
felt like she was.

It
was almost one in the morning, and he wasn’t even close to going to sleep when
he was surprised by a little tap on his door.

“Come
in,” he called out, his heartbeat quickening.

Emily
peeked in. “Are you asleep?”

“No.
I’m still awake. Come on in.”

Since
his eyes were already adjusted to the dark, he could see her fairly clearly as
she shut the bedroom door and walked over to his bed. She wore a dark-colored
tank top with pajama shorts of the same color. Her hair was tousled around her
face, and she smiled at him as she crawled under the covers beside him. “I’m
sorry it’s so late. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I
wasn’t asleep yet. Everything all right with Chris?”

“I
guess so,” she said with a sigh, rolling onto her side so she was facing him.
“As good as they can be. I just…”

“You
just what?” Paul was on his side too, and he was doing his best to force down
his instinctive reaction.

“I
just don’t want to die when things aren’t good with him.”

Paul
swallowed. “Of course not. You should do what you can to clear things up with
him.”

“Yeah.
I’ll do what I can, but he doesn’t like it when I defend you.”

“You
don’t have to defend me,” Paul said, very slowly.

Even
in the dark, Emily’s expression was transparently outraged. “Of course, I have
to defend you! Damn it, Paul, whose side do you think I’m on?”

He
just stared at her.

Emily’s
face changed as she gazed at him. “Oh, Paul, did you really think…” She scooted
over and nestled against his side with one arm draped over his belly, which was
evidently her favorite position. “Of course I’m on your side,” she breathed,
pressing a little kiss on his chest.

He
tightened one arm around her and used his other hand to stroke her hair. He
didn’t say anything. Didn’t feel capable of saying anything.

His
heart was still beating too fast, but he tried to slow his breathing, tried to
relax his body. The week and a half of the trial had taken too much out of him,
and if he didn’t sleep he was just going to drop.

He
thought about his father. And, for once, it didn’t hurt so much he couldn’t
breathe. Maybe he could get some sort of closure.  Maybe he could somehow move
on. Maybe his father didn’t have to haunt his steps for the rest of his life.

At
least there was hope.

Emily
must have been exhausted too, since she was asleep in less than ten minutes. She
still clung to him in her sleep, and her warm presence and slow, steady
breathing helped him to relax too.

She
was dying, but she had an extra month that they hadn't known she had. Maybe
there was a cure for her.

At
least there was hope.

Paul
didn’t know how he would have gotten through this trial without her.

Then
he had one more thought before he fell into unbroken sleep.

He
couldn’t remember the last time someone had been on his side.

***

Paul woke up early the
following morning.

He
immediately knew something was strange—maybe wrong—although it took him a
minute to figure out what it was.

He
finally realized that Emily wasn’t draped all over him the way she normally was
when he woke up. Paul's body felt cool, and none of his limbs had lost
circulation. When he turned his head, he saw that she was huddled up on the
opposite side of the bed, facing away from him.

Her
position and lack of cuddling was so unusual that he thought initially she
might have a fever, so he reached across the bed and gently turned her over
onto her back. She was asleep, and she moaned softly at his disruption of her
slumbers. She didn’t wake up, though. When he felt her forehead, she wasn’t
unusually hot.

Relieved
she wasn’t sick, Paul left her alone to sleep and went to work out for an hour.
He’d been working out more than usual lately, since he had a lot of physical
frustration to channel, and he worked himself particularly hard this morning.
He was hot, sweaty, and tired when he returned to his bedroom an hour later to
take a shower.

It
wasn’t even six in the morning, and Emily was still sleeping—huddled up in a
ball again on the edge of the bed.

Once
he’d showered and dressed, Paul got some coffee and went into his office to
work. He had a mountain of email to get through, since he’d gotten behind
because of the trial.

While
normally that would be considered a good excuse, he knew he was still in a probationary
period with the board, and he wasn’t going to ask or expect any sort of
leniency because of his personal situation.

He
was so absorbed in clearing his inbox that he lost track of time. When the
phone rang, he glanced at the clock and was surprised that it was already after
ten in the morning.