Page 201 of Fiery Romance

“But youdeserveto have someone who’s crazy for you. Someone who won’t just talk the talk, but show you, in every situation, in every breath, that he loves you and wants you happy. You deserve a love that’s out of this world, sweetheart. Fear shouldn’t limit your options.”

Grampa nods. “I can tell you one thing. A man who’s trying to control you might buy you a car, but he won’t rush to your aid. He won’t sacrifice his own feelings for your happiness. He won’t step back even if you tell him to. A man who wants to control you cares more about his own happiness than yours.” Grampa pauses. “Is that who Clay is?”

I think about my visit to the bank. Sid’s words.He paid off your debt.

I think of the letter absolving me of responsibility.

I think of the way he is with his kids, the way he protects them, the way he protects me.

I think of the way he served me at the restaurant and the way he put all his wife’s pictures away to prove that I was more important to him than the past.

It’s frightening, overwhelming, to be loved by a man like that.

But it’s ten times more frightening to think that maybe I’ve lost that love forever.

* * *

Genevieve sendsa car on the day of the court hearing, ensuring that I won’t have a chance of backing out.

I roll the window down and let a cool breeze fly through.

My heart is beating fast.

I’ll see Clay for the first time since the gala.

Nerves on edge, I grab my phone and roll through pictures of Abe and Regan. The kids somehow got ahold of my number and invited me into a secret group chat.

Clay doesn’t know about it, which makes me feel slightly guilty, but I don’t have the heart to exit the group. I miss Regan and Abe so much that it physically hurts.

There’s a new voice message in the chat.

It’s from Regan.

‘I miss you so, so much, Island. And I love you!’

I smile and scroll to the messages before that.

Abe: I solved the password. It was ‘tob’, my mom’s secret nickname for me.

Island: That’s awesome, Abe. Where are you keeping her pictures?

Abe: I’m keeping them in the safe for now. Dad says I can put them up in my room if I want, but I’d rather keep my posters up.

The car slows down in front of the courthouse.

Go time.

Genevieve’s lawyer is in the hallway when I walk in. He approaches me, shakes his head and says, “Couldn’t you have worn a more professional hairstyle?”

I scowl, but before I can strangle him with one of my boho-braids, the door bursts open.

“They’re calling for the witness now.”

The lawyer’s eyes widen. He nods at me. “Remember to play up the blackmail angle. Start from the day Mr. Bolton threatened you at your shop. And cry a little.”

“I know what to do,” I say determinedly.

I walk into the courtroom, surprised by how small it is. Long benches fill either side. Clay is sitting in the front row, his back stiff and his shoulders ramrod straight.

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