Lissa
“James has hired lawyers,” I say finally.
Oliver and I have been sitting in the dim quiet for a bit, sipping our wine, neither of us moving or
speaking. It’s lovely to just be with another person, but the intimacy of our prior conversation has made me
bold.
He twists toward me, his brow furrowing as he places his wine down, entirely focused on me.
“He told you that?” he asks. “He came to my apartment and personally handed me the divorce papers.
He’s been threatening to do it since I left, but I think that somewhere in his twisted view of our lives, he
expected me to take him back.”
Oliver says nothing, his eyes on the couch cushion between us, where Truman grumbles in his sle ep and
then gives a wide yawn.
“I have full custody of Henry,” I continue, “but I don’t stand a chance against James.”
“You have a protective order against him, Lissa. That often influences the judge’s decision. The courts
will acknowledge a history of domestic violence. That will definitely work in your favor.”
“I know. I’ve been told that before, but I can’t afford a good lawyer, and even if I could, James has
violated the order so many times over the past year, and the judge has always been lenient.”
Oliver’s frown only de epens as he picks up his wine. “Is that what had happened when I saw you that
day in the hospital?”
I nod, my palms beginning to sweat thinking about it.
“I should never have k ept Henry’s illness from him,” I say, voicing the source of the guilt that pulses
beneath my skin. “He had every right to know what was going on with his son.”
“Maybe.” The single word makes my gut clench, and I turn to Oliver, swallowing around the lump in my
throat. “But Henry is s eparated from his father because of James’s choices. He didn’t have the right to hurt
you, and he did it anyway. If James had been a better father and husband, he wouldn’t have been s eparated
from his son, and he would have been aware of his illness from the beginning. You chose to save yourself
and your son from more heartache. That’s not malicious or vindictive, Lissa...
Tears pool in my eyes from his words. It’s so dark in the room now, the shadows closing in all around
us.
“James has a lot of money,” I say helplessly. “He has more money than he knows what to do with. He
could easily prove to the court that Henry would have a better life with him. All they would need is a
photograph of my shitty apartment. There’s mold in the cabinets and screaming couples on every floor.
Whereas James is in finance and has his own place in Brooklyn. The judge is gonna be able to see that
Henry would have a good life with him.”
Oliver fixes me with that dark, intense stare. “Define good.” He licks his lips, leaning against the back of
the couch, his fist against his temple; calm and collected. “So, James gives him a house. Great. Does he get
a loving father, too? Does he get to see his adoring mother, who wants the best for him, or are you blocked
from seeing him for good? A place to live is nothing compared to the world you’ve built for him.”
He shifts forward a little. “You have custody of Henry for a reason. You can give him a better life
because you’re not using him as a bargaining chip to score points. Any competent lawyer could argue as
such. You’re talking about a financial bond versus an emotional bond. There’s no contest. Not in my view.”
I shake my head slowly. “Competent lawyers cost money. Lots of money.”
Oliver’s warm fingers encircle my wrist, and he pulls my hand down to the couch between us.
His thumb brushes gently against my skin as I stare at him, my heart drumming a thousand beats a
minute as our gazes lock and hold.
“You’ve got the best lawyer in the city,” he says solemnly. “What?” “I’m not standing by and watching
you fight this thing alone. Henry belongs with you; anyone with half a brain can see that. I saw his father. I
know what men like him are like, and I won’t let him take your son away from you, Lissa. I’ll r epresent
you, and I won’t charge you a thing.”
My mouth falls open as I begin shaking my head vigorously. “Absolutely not. No.”
He frowns, raising an eyebrow. “And why not?” “Because you can’t r epresent me.” “Why?” “You
charge over two thousand dollars an hour, you’ve worked hard to get to that status, to work with clients who
can pay you. I can’t do that. It isn’t fair.”
“But I’m offering.” “I don’t want you to offer that. It’s not why I told you about it.” My chest is
tightening by the second. Suddenly, opening up to Oliver feels like the stupidest, neediest thing I’ve ever
done.
Has he been listening to me, imagining that I was asking for his help? Some desperate mother, forcing
her way into his home and begging him to help her child?
“Lissa...” “No!” I say, putting down my glass and standing up abruptly. “No. Henry and I should leave.”
I stalk out of the room, the cloak of darkness pulling away from my shoulders as I st ep into the hallway.
The lights above me are bright and unpleasant as I walk toward Henry’s room, right before giant hands land
on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks.
Oliver turns me around, his eyes dangerous before he st eps back, releasing me again.
“You’re not leaving,” he says, with an urgency that makes me flinch. He inhales de eply, looking away,
gathering himself, and then he starts over. “What I mean is, please don’t leave. Lissa, this is an offer of my
help, nothing more.”
“You can’t help me. Not like that.” “Why not?”
“Because it’s crazy. You pay me for—” I stop, glancing back at the open door of Henry’s room, and
shake my head. “I didn’t tell you about James so that you would help me. That’s not what I was trying to
say at all. I was just... I don’t know... I felt as if we were on the same page somehow.”
“Do you honestly think I would ever believe you would try to manipulate me like that?”
“You don’t know me that well.” “I know enough. You’re a good person, Lissa. I won’t watch you suffer
and struggle when I have the means to help you. Set everything else aside— all that we’ve done together.
This is s eparate. This is about justice, and you deserve it. More than any of the Carmen Reynoldses in the
world. She’s a bitter, wealthy woman, scrapping it out for the last crumbs of her privilege. And you’re
fighting for the very basis of your life. Let me help you. Please.”
“But... I could never r epay you,” I say desperately. I can’t fathom why he’s doing this for an escort he
barely knows, but when I look up at him, finally, his eyes are determined as he puts his hands in his pockets.
“Do you think I would ever offer something that I didn’t want to do? You know my nature. I don’t agree
to do things I don’t want to do. I can help with this, Lissa. I can win for you.”
The light of triumph is returning to his eyes now, and I get a thrill from seeing the same satisfaction in
his expression that I have seen so many times in his office after hours. There’s obviously a part of him that
really wants to help me.
Am I crazy for considering this? I have two voices screaming at me in my head, fighting for dominance.
One is Bethany’s, telling me never to be beholden to a man. If this relationship disintegrates, what’s to stop
him from pulling the rug out from under me and not r epresenting me?
The other is much louder. It’s a voice that I’ve been pushing to the base of my head for weeks now. It’s
shouting, as if inside the darkest of tunnels, the echoes spiraling upward into my mind, unable to mask the
truth any longer.
You are falling for this man, and you’re setting yourself up for the hardest fall of your life. You think he
wants you? You? When he could have any woman in this city. Once he’s finished helping you, his
obligation will
be over, and he’ll drop you like a burning hot piece of coal. Don’t let anyone have this much power over
you. Not again.
“Lissa, I’ll work this case pro bono and there’s no way he’ll get custody of Henry. You’ll have total
control of your relationship with him moving forward.”
My hands twist in front of me, the ‘no’ rising again in my throat. But as I think of my son, of his brave
little face, his strength against a wall of uncertainty and sickness, I know I can’t choose anything else.
I give a slow nod as a huge smile spreads over Oliver’s handsome face. Henry is what matters. My life,
my heart, will have to find a way to heal on its own.