Page 30 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lori

Tuesday morning…

I’m in Cat’s kitchen making coffee when my cell phone rings. I set my cup down and run to the island to grab it. Cat comes running and stops on the other side of the island, well aware of the call I’m waiting on. I spy the doctor’s office on caller ID, with a stomach flip, and nod to her. “Hello,” I answer.

There is a greeting, and the nurse identifies herself before I hear, “Your test is negative.”

“Oh, thank God,” I breathe out, with Cat doing the same a second later. “Not that having a baby is a bad thing,” I quickly add. “It’s just not well-timed for me.” Especially, I add silently, since I don’t even know how to find the would-be father, besides asking the bartender at the bar to leave him a message, which would be a long shot.

“Of course,” she says. “That’s understandable. The doctor said if you haven’t started your period by Friday, go ahead and get going on the birth control pill. Otherwise, follow the instructions given at the office.”

We disconnect, and Cat watches me closely. “You’re happy, right?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “I’m happy.”

I no longer have any reason to find Cole. It’s the end of the story of the “us” that never existed.

Asshole, why’d you have to be a manwhore?

***

Cole

Houston, TX

After a two-day delay in the court date, the case begins. I listen to the nonsense the prosecution ends with, pleased at how they play into my hand. This is my game and when it’s my turn, I work the room. I begin my opening statement: “The prosecution will have you believe that blood and a knife damns my client. If you believe that then I want you to go someplace difficult with me right now. I want you to think of the person you love the most in this world. Your child, your spouse, your sibling, whoever it may be.”

“I want you to think about hugging them, loving them, smiling with them. I need you to just embrace how good that feels. Now, do it without allowing yourself to pause to think because you wouldn’t in a crisis. You walk in your front door and that person you love with all of your heart is on the floor bleeding with a knife in their chest. I’ve gone through this in my head and over and over and I know what I would do. I would run to that loved one and try to find a sign of life. I may or may not pull out the knife. In the moment, I think we can all say we’d do what felt right, what we believed would save our loved one’s life. I, for one, would call 911, just as my client called 911, and then I’d offer aid. Any chance I had, I’d hold my loved one. I’d hold them and hold them and hold them, praying that it wouldn’t be the last time. If my client is guilty for doing those things, then I say I too would be guilty because I would do those things. The prosecution has nothing else to convict him on. So, ask yourself, would the very same thing that I would do, which I suspect many of you would do in the same circumstances, convince you that Callum Moore killed his wife? The prosecution has to give you proof he killed her. All they want to do is punish him for loving her. I hope you will not.”

Recess is called after I leave the floor. I head to the back of the courthouse, out the private exit, and I do what I do at breaks. I make a path to the side door, step outside and plan to think through what comes next. The assistant DA, Carrie Monroe, a pretty blonde with an attitude, and legs that go on forever, is waiting on me. I know this specific detail of her legs because we’ve been friends with benefits on occasion. “You did good in there. We should celebrate tonight.”

A woman who knows how to just fuck and move on with no strings attached should be a definitive “yes,” a way to get Lori out of my head. I wait for the familiar stir of lust, and it doesn’t come.

“Not tonight.”

“When then?” she persists. “You’re moving.”

“I’m focused on this case with plans to be on a plane to New York City the day after it ends.”

She blanches. “Wait. Are you saying goodbye now?”

“I am.”

“Okay. Huh. Well I don’t know what to say.” She purses her lips. “Fine. You were still sexy as hell in there, Cole. I love watching you. I’ll just do it from afar.” She closes the space between us and kisses my cheek. “Good luck, but you won’t need it. You always win.” She leaves then, and holy hell. I’m not sorry. I wouldn’t have said no to Carrie before that night in New York with Lori. What kind of wicked spell am I under?

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