One to Save (One to Hold 6)

“And I can’t believe the judge refused to set bail. You’re not a flight risk.”

“He might not’ve made the wrong call.” His warm exhale feels so close. I hold the phone as if it’s his cheek. “I’m not sure I’ll get out of this one, and I’ve heard the French Riviera is beautiful year-round.”

“Don’t say that.” A tone sounds in our ears, and I know our time is ending. “We’re going to get you out.” I speak fast. “Stuart’s headed your way to meet with the prosecutor. I’m meeting Marc tomorrow, and Patrick will be in the Princeton office Monday—”

“I love you, babe.”

“I love you more.”

It’s our last words before we’re cut off. My head drops on my arms, and I can’t fight anymore. My shoulders shake, and I dissolve into tears.

* * *

The foot traffic is light on Michigan Avenue this morning. Lifting my chin, I let the warm sun shine on my face as I take a deep breath of sweet spring air. I’m glad Sylvia’s condo is close enough for me to walk. I need to think about what I’m going to say to Marcus. I’m ready to tell him everything, whatever it takes to save Derek. Nothing in my past is more important than getting him back home with his family.

I haven’t seen Marcus Merritt in almost ten years—before I graduated from college or even knew Sloan Reynolds. I’m not sure how much Elaine keeps her brother in the loop on my life. When we were kids growing up together in Wilmington, our parents used to hint that Marcus and I might eventually get married. We dated off and on, but he was always a ladies’ man. And as much as I loved him dearly, I was always looking for someone “more mature.”

Pushing through the revolving glass doors, I shake my head. “Years ago and water under the bridge.”

I cross the grey marble foyer leading to the elevators. Stepping out on the thirty-first floor, I quickly scan the polished surfaces of the waiting room. The décor is very traditional. Dark, cherry-wood paneling, stained oak floors, and built in bookshelves surround me. It’s Sunday, so the office is closed. The receptionist’s desk sits empty.

Unsure what to do, I step across the luxurious waiting area. Wooden doors with glass panes lead to a small conference room. I’m just peeking through when I hear my name and turn.

Marcus is stunningly handsome as ever. He’s a bit darker than Elaine, with caramel-brown hair and hazel eyes. He’s dressed in grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt with a navy tie. At six foot, he’s so fit and polished, I can’t help a laugh.

“When did you start moonlighting at GQ?”

He smiles, revealing straight white teeth, before kissing my cheek. “And how is it possible you’re more beautiful now than you were in college?”

I hadn’t packed for this trip, so I’d had to stick with my dark skinny jeans and red tunic sweater. “Hmm, I think you’re winning this morning.”

“Come on,” he touches my elbow. I follow him through the opposite glass doors down a short wood-paneled hallway to a large, corner office.

“Nice place.” My eyes roam the arched built-in bookshelves lining the walls. The coffered ceiling and gold accents create a stunning space. “How do you ever get anything done in here? I’d be staring at the ceiling all day.”

He laughs, and the familiar sound comforts me. “Have a seat and tell me what I can do for you.”

“Thanks for meeting me on short notice. And on a Sunday.” He waves my thanks away, and I drop into a tan leather chair across from him. “I don’t know how much you know about my life now.”

He leans back and props his foot over his knee. “Seems my little sister said you were happily engaged with a baby on the way.” His eyes scan my body. “I guess that last bit is old news. You look amazing.”

I smile. “Dex is a year old now.”

“He was in a picture she sent me of Lane. Cute kid. He has your eyes.”

“Thanks. They play together pretty regularly. We’re all back in Wilmington now.”

“And your fiancé is the Alexander my new brother-in-law works with?”

“Right. Derek.”

He only smiles briefly. “I can’t say I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Reynolds.”

My bottom lip catches in my teeth, but I hesitate. “He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

“You were too young when you married him.”

I’m unsure whether to charge right into our situation or continue catching up. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I decide to ask one more question I actually want to know the answer to.