Page 99 of Love in Fine Print

“I wanted it to be a surprise!” Miss B held her arms up in the air. “Surprise!”

It was definitely a surprise. “But…you just met him, and you already put the house up for sale?” I motioned to the sign in the yard.

She chuckled. “You should know better than most that it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone. And, honey, I’m too long in the tooth to be wasting time. Tomorrow isn’t promised, but I sure hope I make it till then because that’s when we’re getting married.”

“You’re getting marriedtomorrow?” I looked around, sure this had to be some elaborate prank. “What about your kids? Are they going to?—”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I called them all yesterday to tell them the news and all they cared about was the house and if they’re gonna get their share of it. I’m not even dead yet, and they’re worried about their inheritance.”

“Going to the Chapel” started playing and Miss B grabbed her phone off the entryway table.

“Oh, that’s Morton now. I gotta go. Don’t forget, tomorrow at the courthouse. You’re giving me away.” Miss B shut the door as she answered the phone, “Hey, dumpling.”

Dumpling. Courthouse. Giving her away.

Wow. Had I really been that clueless about what was going on? Miss B had been seeming a lot happier the past couple months. She’d been going to Bay View with Olivia and me. How had I not put two and two together?

I wasn’t sure how I felt as I walked down the steps. Miss B had lived next to Gran my entire life. It was going to be so strange to have strangers living in Miss B’s house.

But I was happy for her. She’d been so lonely since Gran passed, and now she would not only have Mort but also the friends she’d made playing Mahjong at Bay View.

I tried Olivia’s phone again, but it went straight to voicemail.

A yawn claimed me as I walked inside and plopped on the couch. The first two nights I’d been in the hotel room, I’d barely slept because Olivia wasn’t at my side. Last night, I hadn’t slept at all because I’d opted to stay at the airport to hop on the first flight they had to get back home.

I’d probably only slept a total of eight hours in the past seventy-two hours, and it felt like it caught up with me all at once. But I was home now. And in a few hours, I’d be reunited withbothmy girls. That was my last thought as my eyes drifted shut.

43

OLIVIA

The wordson my iPad were blurry. I squinted and tried to bring them into focus, but I couldn’t decipher them. For the past hour, I’d been trying to read the report Dominic had sent me last week for the Gibson trial, which was going to start in less than thirty minutes. I was using every ounce of concentration I could muster to focus on reading what was on my screen, but I was failing.

After Uncle Mort’s surprise proposal on Saturday night, I’d gone home and searched Gran’s office looking for evidence that she’d known that her son wasn’t Ben’s father. And I’d found it. She had a stack of letters that had been returned to her. I felt a little bad opening them, but I was glad I had. She’d begged her son to allow Ben to come live with her. She’d wanted to legally adopt him so that if his mother ever came back into the picture, she couldn’t just take him. Her letters were returned unopened.

I still had no clue how I was going to tell Ben about his parentage, but I did feel better that I knew, definitively, that his Gran was aware of the circumstances surrounding his birth. And she hadn’t seen him any differently.

I hadn’t been able to sleep at all on Saturday night. I’d just sat on the couch and played out different scenarios of me telling Ben that his dad was not the father. At least on Maury, people knew there was a question of paternity. This was going to come out of the blue.

And I’d been the one to uncover it. All because it bothered me that Ben didn’t even know where his father lived. I regretted going down this path, but I felt ethically obligated to share the information with Ben now that I had.

My sleepless Saturday night was followed by a day spent packing up Miss B’s house, doing yard work, and finding her a realtor. I’d planned on going over the report last night, but the last thing I remember was sitting down on the couch with Dolly and my laptop. I must have fallen sound asleep.

This morning, I woke up with my Blue Light glasses askew on my face, my laptop on the floor, and drool on the throw pillow my head was resting on. I’d slept past my alarm and would have been late to court if it hadn’t been for Dolly barking at the real estate agent putting the For Sale sign in Miss B’s front yard.

Now time was up. I needed to be familiar with this report before heading into chambers.

I checked the time and wanted to throw up.

Focus, focus, focus, I told myself as I shifted on the bench in the hallway of the courthouse. Exhaustion crashed over me like a giant wave pulling me into the ocean of fatigue. I thought about going to the bathroom and splashing water on my face, but that would mean I’d have to walk all the way back to the front of the building, which I did not have the energy or time for. I had fifteen minutes until I was scheduled to appear in front of Judge Narula, and I needed to not only read but also comprehend the report I had in front of me, which would be a lot easier if my vision wasn’t so blurry and I didn’t feel like my head was about to float away from my body.

Mason Gibson had an ironclad prenup, but he had toproveinfidelity. Juliette, the soon-to-be former Mrs. Gibson, was smarter than your average bear; I had to give her that. She’d kept her phone under her personal account, so I was unable to do a forensic search on its contents. Thankfully, the internet provider at the home was paid for by Mason. Her phone was synced to the cloud, and I was able to do a forensic search of the Gibson’s cloud during the years of their marriage.

From the email Dom had sent me, I knew that the findings were going to prove her unfaithfulness, but as I stared down at the words in front of me, I couldn’t comprehend what anything meant.

“Woooow,” Trevor drew out the word as he lowered down beside me on the bench outside courtroom A and handed me the green juice I’d texted him to bring me.

“What?” I asked weakly.

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