Adrian squeezes my leg beneath the table, telling me he understands, that he supports me, and I know he does. God, how I know after the story he told me last night. I cover his hand with mine, as Blake promises, “I’ll find out. The question is, what do you want to do about either case?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But knowledge is power. Once I know, I’ll figure it out.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “I’ll be in touch.” He eyes Adrian. “I have a plane on standby for you for tomorrow.”
Kara hands me a card. “This is Chrissy. She’s a personal shopper. I called her and told her you might need her to grab you some things today.”
“Oh perfect,” I say. “Yes. I do.”
“One more thing before we go, Pri,” Blake says, sliding a folder in front of me. “That’s a job offer. We have clients that need legal consultations in a discreet manner. You’d be paid well for your services.”
“But I thought if I practiced law, Waters would find me,” I say.
“He will,” Blake confirms, “but you’ll be off the books and using an alias for the consults.”
“Don’t you have people for this already?” I ask. “I don’t want to be an obligation hire.”
“We have a few attorneys we trust. Very few. We need more. I believe I can trust you. Think about it. No pressure. And you can work remotely, anywhere in the world.” He stands and Kara joins him.
“Looking forward to getting to know you, Pri,” Kara says, and then they’re headed for the door.
Adrian shifts on his stool and we turn to face each other, legs pressed together intimately, his hand on my knee. “What do you think?”
“Do you need to walk them out?”
“They know their way around. What do you think?”
“About which part?”
“All of it.”
I could tell him I was standing on a bridge over hell when I met him, and that it was about to break in half. I could tell him that he and his “family” kept me from falling in, but he’d tell me he put me front and center. And I’m not sure that’s an argument I can win, even if I want to win it with all my heart. So instead, I say, “Where are we going in Europe?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Everywhere with you,” I say.
He smiles, this devastating handsome smile, with no hint of apprehension, and says, “Anywhere you want to go.”
***
The afternoon and evening with Adrian are remarkably wonderful, considering all that is going on in our lives. The commitment we’ve made to each other has created this warm, intimate, deepening connection. Since we’ve both been to Rome and Venice, and both cities are a bit too high profile for us right now, we decide to start our trip in Italy exploring the small, wonderful beachfront communities, with one exception: a castle in Rome owned by a powerful friend of Adrian’s, that he assures me is safe. From there, we’ll go to France and Germany, where we’ll stay at the home of another friend: the famous violinist Kace August, who Adrian ran a protection detail for last year.
***
Hours later, after I’ve placed and received a large order from the personal shopper, we’re in the bedroom in front of the window, watching it rain yet again, enjoying the wine we’d abandoned last night when I say, “I’m going to resign with the DA’s office.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
“We both know it’s necessary,” I say, “and I feel remarkably at peace with it. I wanted to make a difference. I didn’t. Maybe I can with Walker Security.”
“Then you’re going to take the job?”
“Yes,” I say. “I do believe I will. Are you going to stay with Walker?”
“I do believe I owe them my loyalty.”
“You do,” I agree, and I open my mouth to tell him it will take getting used to, loving someone who is always in danger, but I bite back the silly words. Waters lives. Waters will be free. Waters will always be at our backs. So instead, I say, “Where will we live safely?”
He sips his wine and sets it down. “What about right here?”
I set my wine down and scoot closer to him. His arm wraps around my shoulders and my head settles on his chest. “I like it here,” I say, but I don’t ask how that would be possible.
We both know how it would be possible.
Us or him. Is that really what our life has come down to?
My cellphone rings and I glance at the number to find Judge Nichols calling. I answer the line with, “Judge.”
“Sorry for the late call, but I thought you had the right to know. I’m dismissing the charges.”
“When does he get out?”
“Ten tomorrow morning. I wish I had better news.”
“Me, too,” I say and I disconnect, glancing at Adrian. “Tomorrow at ten in the morning. I’m sure it will be televised.”