She realized what he was saying. She had to stop him.
“I owe you, and your wife and daughter, an apology.”
“Evie…”
“This was never real, Tommy.”
Tommy reached out and pulled Eve close to him.
“But it could be.” Tommy’s voice was low, thick with emotion. “Say the word, Evie, and I’m all yours.”
Before that day in the courtroom, before Rick Hanson’s death, Eve had spent countless hours imagining what her life with Tommy would be like. They’d travel everywhere. Europe. South America. Asia. They’d take cruises. Eve always wanted to take a cruise but Dave got seasick. She envisioned them as that hip older couple, the one that knew the best restaurants and had season theater tickets. They’d join a country club. They’d take up golf and tennis. They’d forget about all of the crap and build a new life together. Eight years ago, eight months ago, Eve would have said yes. Yes. Yes, I’m all yours.
But not now. Too much had changed since that day in the courtroom. Eve had changed. This was her chance to start fresh, to be that powerful businesswoman she’d once been, a woman her daughters and grandchildren could look up to. She’d spent years hating herself, hating who she was.
Eve freed herself from Tommy’s desperate embrace, worried that she might lose her nerve if she stayed in his arms.
“I can’t do that. And if it really came down to it, I don’t think you could either.”
Stricken, Tommy stepped back. Eve thought about what else she might say to ease his heartbreak, but that wasn’t her job. She headed back across the street and climbed into her SUV. Eve pulled away, head held high, refusing to cry. She’d always love him, but Eve had made her decision. She wasn’t going to be that woman. Not anymore.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
LILY
Five months. It had been exactly five months since Rick’s death, and Lily still hated visiting Abby at the Oakwood Behavioral Center. Arriving for her weekly visitation, checking in with security, she’d wait at the designated table, trying to ignore the antiseptic smell as drugged-up patients, eyes vacant and cloudy from medication, shuffled in.
In the aftermath of Rick’s stabbing, the media frenzy reached a fever pitch. The news cycle was insatiable, only heightened by the news that Rick had had a new lady love. His fiancée, a guard at the jail, was demanding justice for her slain lover. Authorities launched an investigation and discovered the woman was not a crackpot as they first thought, but that Rick had in fact been planning an escape with her. The love letters written between Rick and the woman revealed that he had orchestrated the whole thing.
The woman, her face plastered on every morning news show, pleaded with the public to rally around her cause. But she was a joke, comic relief. Lily was grateful that no one took her seriously, other than reveling in her delusion. In fact, the public was squarely on Abby’s side. But the law was still the law. Abby had taken a life and would have to face the consequences.
Elijah, the district attorney, accepted Abby’s plea of temporary insanity, and Abby was committed to a midlevel psychiatric facility for an indeterminate amount of time. Some people who committed violent crimes served a year or two in mental institutions before being released. Others were never ready to reenter society.
Lily was outraged that Abby had to serve any time at all. She’d been on a mission to overturn the sentence and bring her sister home. She was meeting with doctors and lawyers, reaching out to elected officials. Whatever it took. She’d arrived with news—the governor had finally agreed to meet with her.
“Isn’t that great news, Abby? I’m almost certain he’ll be receptive to my argument. There was a case in California, where a woman killed her abuser…”
Abby grabbed Lily’s hands.
“I need you to stop, Lil. Please.”
Lily was confused. “Stop what?”
“All of this. The meetings, the interviews. It has to stop,” Abby demanded.
“But if I can sit down with the governor, and explain that you’re okay, you can come home.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
Lily shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Once you’re back home with us, with David and Wes—”
“Damn it, Lily, I’m not fucking leaving here.” Abby’s voice was shrill as she pounded the table.
Lily knew Abby’s look well. It was one she’d worn for eight long years. A look of pure and total terror.