Page 63 of First Surrender

“I’m ready, I’ll be out in a minute.” I smear some concealer under my eyes to fix the bags and ensure my eye makeup is up to standard. It is but I don’t feel like myself. I’m seeing a stranger in the mirror.

I fling the door open, preparing for what lies ahead of me, but what’s ahead of me smacks me right in the face. Jackson was waiting on the other side of the door and catches me as I full-body slam into him.

“Ow, why are you standing so close?”

“I don’t know, I was afraid you were in there panicking.”

I was panicking but he doesn’t need to know that. I scoot past him and out to the kitchen in the safe zone, busying myself with prepping stuff for dinner. I need to keep my hands busy or I’ll be a nervous wreck.

“She’s pulling in. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The lady that walks through the door is not what I was expecting. I thought she’d be old and frumpy. Instead, she’s an Ivy League hair model. Her pantsuit is navy blue and crisp, but her hair is chestnut brown and billowy, catching the light perfectly. She looks cut straight out of a Law & Order crossover episode with America’s Next Top Model.

Liv Greenwood. She introduced herself and dove right into it, outlining what we should expect with the proceedings. I don’t miss how she refers to Jackson and me as a ‘we’ throughout her spiel. Or, the sparkling engagement ring on her left hand.

I ignore how relieved I am that this beautiful perfect woman has seemingly no interest in the man that I’m secretly impregnated by.

“We’ll want character witnesses. As many as you can get. Once we’re in Family Court you’ll want any and everyone there to support you. It looks good.”

Her technical language was one thing because I didn’t understand it, but asking me to have a village when I don’t have one… That terrifies me. My wide eyes search for Jackson’s across the island. His are already on me and he gives me a subtle nod, as if I know what that means.

“Declan will try to assassinate your character. He’ll try to negate all the work you’ve done so far with Dec. The biggest thing in our corner is that you are a damn good guardian and Declan was never present in the first place. We’ll destroy any argument he has. Do you trust me?” She asks the loaded question as if I’ve been able to give anyone my trust, ever.

I look to Jackson again and he nods his head again. My eyes linger on him as I reply, “I trust you.”

“Okay, all we have to do is wait for the petition of custody from Declan and then we’ll be summoned to Family Court. We’ve got this Natalie.” She leaves a few minutes later and I’m left staring at the wall.

“Are you alright?” He raises his hand slightly as if he’s going to touch me, but it clenches into a fist, dropping before he makes contact.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“We will get this done. I’ll write you a letter, help Dec write one, and we can ask your old manager. Dec’s teachers, Dec’s friend’s parents. Anyone who has seen how well you’ve done with that little boy.”

I had never even considered all of those people. Of course, he thought of it. All I can do is swallow the lump in my throat.

“I have to get back to work, will you be okay?”

“Of course. I’ll be fine.”

He looks at me worriedly but nods. As soon as he’s out the door, I run to the bathroom and hug the toilet.

Two days later we get the call and the first court date is scheduled.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jackson

The Porter Family tree goes back a hundred years in the Rollins County Census. The tree is as wide as it is high. Ties weave throughout every town within twenty miles. Is it a coincidence that the crime in my county is connected back to this family?

I’ve been delving into it nonstop for days and this afternoon I’m finally meeting Mrs. Porter for lunch. Even after how I acted toward her last time it wasn’t a hard sell. She accepted my invitation quickly.

It doesn’t mean that I’m looking forward to it. I rinse my razer in the sink and wipe the excess shaving cream off my face like I do every morning before walking down the normally dark hallway as I leave for work. Except this morning the hall bathroom is illuminated.

When I peek in the doorway, Natalie’s sitting on the countertop doing her makeup with her bare feet resting against the sink. It’s a small counter and her legs are bent to her chest but she looks perfectly content.

“You’re up early.”

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