I shrug. “I’m making it work.”
A few months ago, I decided to stop telling everyone what they wanted to hear about how we’re doing. The truth is ugly, but it’s real. No one is doing great after they lose their husband like I did. Yes, you find a “new normal” but there’s a void that will never be filled. That’s reality, and I don’t give a shit if it makes me look weak. I’m holding my family together with tape and chewing gum right now.
“Lisa sends her best,” he tacks on.
“Tell her we said hello as well.”
I’ve known Richard a long time. He’s a ruthless lawyer who always had big plans for his life. With Peter by his side, they were an unstoppable team. Right now, he looks like he’d rather be in court trying to defend a killer than here. He shifts his weight back and forth while gripping his neck.
“Richard,” I say after a few moments of awkward silence. “What’s going on?”
He looks at me and I see him slip into lawyer mode. As sad as it sounds, I’ve missed that face. Peter would do the same, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen it.
“We got the trial date set.”
“Oh,” I say, taken back a bit. It was postponed twice and I pushed it so far to the back of my mind, I almost forgot. “When?”
“In two weeks.”
“Soon,” I note.
My chest is tight when I think about all of this being brought back to the front. The trial is supposed to be a form of closure, but I’m going to have to fight through pain to get there.
“We’ve petitioned the court to be released from his defense, but then he contested.”
My head jerks back. “What? You mean you’re going to defend the man who killed Peter?”
Richard walks toward the couch and taps the wood table. “The judge will side with us considering the circumstances.”
“I don’t understand,” I say quickly. “How the hell is this even possible?” My voice is on the edge of frantic. None of this makes any sense.
“Peter’s killer was my client, not his. He was on retainer and Peter was helping out when I was already tied up in another trial. So, there’s a lot of legal crap, but we have to petition the court to be released from being his attorney.”
I release a heavy breath and tears fill my vision. “But that could get denied, right?”
“Well— yes, but it won’t, Danni.”
How does he know that? “Why would he even want you to be his attorney? That seems so stupid.”
“It is,” Richard says. “Which is why we’re not worried about it. The issue is that whatever he said is bound by attorney-client privilege. I can’t . . . tell you more . . . but there’s a reason he wants me to stay on. It could jeopardize his case and if he keeps me on, I can’t testify.”
“So, I could have to go to that courtroom and see you sitting next to the man who shot and killed my husband, your partner and best friend, in cold blood?”
“Danielle,” he touches my arm. “No judge will do this. They won’t . . . we . . . we’re doing what we can to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
I start to move around, needing to work off some of my excess feelings. This can’t be real. If this is even a possibility, I’ll never be able to handle it. If Richard didn’t think there was some real chance, he’d never tell me. A heavy sense of betrayal fills me.
“This! This is why he’s dead! Because you help criminals. People who are murderers, rapists, pedophiles and God only knows what because,” I put my fingers up and air quote, “this is where the money is.”
“I’m not trying to upset you, I just wanted to give you all the info.”
This is unreal. “So what happens if the judge makes you do it?”
“That’s highly unlikely,” he says as soon as I finish.
“But it’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Sure, it’s possible, but not probable. Please, calm down.”
“Then why tell me?” I toss back.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Because if it does happen, I don’t want you blindsided.”
I can’t even imagine what would happen if that had been the case. I try to calm myself, but my imagination runs wild. I envision Richard sitting beside my husband’s murderer, finding a way to get him off on some bullshit technicality, because he’s that good. It would be horrible to see someone, my daughter’s godfather, defend her father’s killer.
“If this happens . . .”
“It won’t,” Richard tries to reassure me. “Right now, we need to go before the judge because the client is appealing. Like I said, I know things that I’m sure my client wants protected.”
“Murderer,” I correct.
Richard looks at me with confusion.
“When you call someone a client, or the suspect, you humanize him. He’s not a human to me. He’s a monster. We’re not just guessing this guy did it, Richard. He walked into your law firm, saw my husband at his desk, shot him, and walked out. It was on camera. We saw his face. He’s not a client, he’s a murderer. Calling him anything less than that is an insult to me, my husband, and our children.”
I’m not a heartless person. I’ve tried my entire life to see the good in others and be forgiving. There are some things that no one can forgive.
“I’m sorry, Danni, I really am. This is . . . murky water for the firm.”
Once again, I’m reminded of the things I hated about Peter’s job. In my world, there’s a right and wrong. Those who do wrong should be punished, but Peter’s job was to take the facts and create illusions and holes in the case.
I can’t even count how many times he and Heather went to war at a dinner or cookout.
“I guess for you it is.” I rub my forehead. “I’m not sure what to say at this point.”
“I promise, none of us want to defend him. No one in my office is willing to fight for him, but we’re not the ones who get to make the call. If the judge believes we run the risk of a mistrial in his other case, we could be forced to stay on as his council, I just don’t think we hit that point where that’s possible.”
I know he feels it won’t happen, and I can only hope a judge has mercy, but I’ve seen stranger shit happen in court.
We don’t know what the outcome will be, but the trial will happen soon, that much is true. I’ll have to face him again, hear details, and find a way through a new round of grief. As if this last one hasn’t been brutal enough.
Chapter Six
Danielle
“So, is he hot in person?” Kristin asks as our kids play in backyard.
“Is who hot?”
She rolls her eyes. “Umm, your new assistant.”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because you’re avoiding talking about it.” She looks at me over her wine glass.
“I am not.”
Okay, I am a little, because there’s nothing to say. He’s Callum’s brother, my assistant, and . . . I’m in mourning. Guys aren’t hot to me right now.
The only thing I find hot right now is a bubble bath with wine and candles where no children pop their heads in to ask if they can have milk. Or a night without Ava and Parker fighting, that would be hot as hell. But my assistant?
Sure, he’s good looking, has thick arms, and a voice that’s silky and smooth, but he’s not hot. He’s a guy. One that I’ve heard is a player with entitlement issues. No thank you, I already have a sixteen-year-old.
“If you’re not avoiding it, then spill. Is he hot or not?”
I huff. Lying to Kristin is foreign to me. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like I needed to, but I don’t want to talk about this. “Can we change the subject? The way he looks is irrelevant.”
“After you tell me if he’s hot.” She raises her brows in a challenge.
“What does it matter? He’s Nicole’s brother-in-law, my employee, and was a pain in the ass for the whole two hours I dealt with him.”
Kristin puts her wine glass down and leans forward. “Not the question I asked, Danni. I asked if he was good looking, which by the way your cheeks have turned bright red, the answer is yes.”
“You’re a dick.”