Page 61 of Say You're Mine

Mama stands at the stove, flour dusting her cheek as she flips pancakes. Legacy, Dante's son, perches on a stool beside her, his little face scrunched in concentration as he stirs batter. And there, looking more relaxed than I've seen him in months, is June. He's seated at the table, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the domestic scene unfold.

For a moment, my throat tightens with emotion. This is what we're fighting for – this warmth, this sense of family.

"Cara!" Legacy spots me first, his face lighting up. "Come see the pancakes we made!"

June's eyes meet mine, a world of unspoken promises passing between us. But before he can rise, Judith sweeps into the room, her expression a mix of exasperation and grudging amusement.

"There you are," she says, eyeing the marks on my neck with raised eyebrows. "I hope you two got that out of your system. We've got work to do."

Reality crashes back, the weight of our impending court date settling over me like a shroud. June reaches for my hand, squeezing gently. "We've got this," he murmurs, but I can hear the uncertainty beneath his words.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of preparation. Judith and Dante's legal team grill me on potential questions, rehearsing my responses until they're satisfied. By lunchtime, my head is spinning with legal jargon and carefully crafted answers.

"You need to eat," Mama insists, setting a plate before me. The smell of her homemade lasagna usually makes my mouth water, but now it just turns my stomach. I force down a few bites, knowing I need to keep up my strength for the baby.

As the afternoon wears on, tension builds in the house like a gathering storm. June grows restless, pacing the length of the living room. I know it's killing him that he can't be there with me in court.

"I should be there," he growls, running a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. "I can't just sit here while you face her alone."

I catch his hand, pulling him close. "I won't be alone," I remind him gently. "Dante and Judith will be there. And you'll be with me in spirit."

He cups my face, his eyes burning with intensity. "Promise me you won't let her get to you. No matter what she says or does."

I nod, even as doubt gnaws at my insides. "I promise."

The morning of the hearing dawns bright and clear, mocking the turmoil in my heart. I dress with shaking hands, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from my conservative blue dress.

June catches me at the door, pulling me into a fierce embrace. "I love you," he whispers fiercely. "Both of you. Remember that, no matter what happens in there."

The ride to the courthouse is a blur of last-minute advice and reassurances. Dante's hand is steady on my back as we climb the steps, flashbulbs popping as reporters shout questions. I keep my head high, channeling every ounce of strength I can muster.

"Remember," Dante murmurs, his hand a steadying presence on my back. "Keep your cool in there. No matter what Elaine throws at you, don't let her see you sweat."

I nod, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. It tastes of exhaust and fear and the faintest hint of hope.

The courtroom is a pressure cooker of tension, the air thick with anticipation and the acrid scent of nervous sweat. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead as we make our way to our seats, refusing to give Elaine the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

But I can feel her presence like a malevolent shadow, her perfectly coiffed exterior belying the venom beneath. When I finally dare to glance her way, the triumphant gleam in her eyes makes my blood run cold.

The judge enters, a stern-faced woman with steel-gray hair and eyes that could cut glass. "All rise," the bailiff intones, and I struggle to my feet, one hand protectively cradling my belly.

What follows is a grueling marathon of testimonies and cross-examinations. Elaine's lawyers paint a picture of June and me as unstable, unfit parents - a danger to ourselves and our unborn child. They dredge up every mistake, every moment of weakness, twisting them into weapons to be used against us.

I sit there, my nails digging crescents into my palms, as former friends and acquaintances recount June's darkest moments. The bar fights, the reckless behavior, the cold fury that could descend without warning. With each damning statement, I feel our chances slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

But then it's our turn. Dante's team calls character witnesses of their own - people who've seen the changes in June, who can testify to his commitment to getting better. Sarah takes the stand, her voice steady as she recounts June's progress in therapy, his unwavering dedication to being a good father.

Maybe, just maybe, we have a chance.

And then it's my turn to testify. I take the stand on shaking legs, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it. The oath feels heavy on my tongue, a promise I'm terrified of breaking.

Elaine's lawyer is a shark in designer heels, her questions carefully crafted to expose every vulnerability, every doubt. She picks apart my relationship with June, insinuating that I'm either blind to his faults or complicit in his instability.

"Ms. Briers," she says, her voice dripping with false concern, "are you not worried about your child's safety, given Mr. Deveaux's history of violence?"

I take a deep breath, centering myself before I answer. "June has never been violent towards me," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "He's getting help, working hard to be the best father he can be. I trust him completely with our child's safety."

"Even after he assaulted you just days ago?" she counters, producing photos of the bruises on my neck with a flourish.

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