Page 69 of Cinderella Screwed Me Over
As we ate, he filled me in on how his case had gone. “So we were able to get him off since the police officer didn’t follow procedure,” he finished.
“But he was guilty?” I asked. Earlier in the conversation, Robert had implied as much.
“Oh, for sure.”
“It doesn’t seem right. I admire you for keeping innocent people out of jail. But the guilty people should beinjail, not released for stupid reasons.”
“Honey, this is how the law works. If the police don’t follow procedure, innocent people would be convicted. So if they screw up, sometimes guilty people get off, too. Don’t worry, though, it was just minor stuff. A little larceny.”
“And he’ll probably do it again. Don’t you feel a bit responsible?”
“I feel responsible for making sure the law is enforced,” Robert said, his words clipped. “If the police have hard evidence, we plea and the guy does time. If not, he gets off.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure I could do it. I’d want to make sure he got what he deserved.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m the lawyer, and you’re a decorator.”
The condescending way he’d saiddecoratorirritated me. “You make my job sound so unimportant. I’m not saying I’m saving lives, but turning someone’s home into a place he or she loves makes a difference.”
“I doubt many of them even realize how lucky they are to have nice things to put in their big houses. Several of my clients don’t have anything but a bare bed in a tiny room.”
“I get that, but think of how sad it would be if there was no color in the world. No beauty. No art.”
Robert took a sip of his water. “It’d be depressing, but it’s not like you need it to survive or anything.”
Anger bubbled up in me. “You know what else doesn’t help survival? Criminals being on the loose because their lawyers put them back on the streets!”
Robert threw up his hands and scooted away from the table. “All right, I guess I’ll go back to my drab apartment and figure out a way to keep more criminals on the street. You have fun in your fancy, well-decorated place.”
I didn’t even try to stop him from going.
Over the next few days, I missed Robert like crazy. I missed talking to him. Missed the way he always made me laugh. I thought over and over again,who am I to judge who goes free and why.
I realized I was in love with him.
I decided that after work I was going to drive to his office and tell him so, but before I could, he showed up at my work, told me he was miserable without me, and apologized for everything he’d said. I apologized, and told him I loved him. He said he loved me, too. Things went back to perfect.
Three months later, we started discussing our future. We talked about buying a place; the M-word was mentioned. We were at my kitchen table, looking at flyers for homes when the topic of having kids came up.
“We’ll start in a home like this,” Robert said, picking up one of the flyers. “But we’ll need to move to a bigger place once we start having kids.”
“I’m a little shaky on the kids issue.” I swallowed the bite of cookie I had in my mouth. “If we do decide to have one or two kids, though, three bedrooms should be enough.” I popped the rest of my cookie in my mouth and wiped the crumbs from my hands.
“I’m thinking more like five or six kids.”
I almost choked. “What? I’m not having five or six kids. After my parents got divorced, I went through this phase where I didn’t think I wanted kids at all. Drew and Devin pretty much solidified my stance on it. I’m barely getting used to the idea of having kids at all.”
“Since I’ve met Drew and Devin,” Robert said, “I completely understand.”
“Hey, those are my brothers you’re talking about. I can slam them, but no one else can. Besides, they’re not so bad now.”
“Yeah, I loved it when they dragged me along to show me”—he made air quotes—“real men’s work.” And how they called me a city boy when I fell off a horse. Or when they didn’t tell me that a giant bull was in the pen, so I climbed over the fence after them and came face-to-face with the beast.”
“Tiny’s the most gentle creature on the farm,” I said, picturing the enormous black bull Dwight treated like a puppy.
“He rammed me with his head.”
“He nudged you because he wanted his head scratched. You’re just lucky you weren’t holding a stick. Tiny loves to get scratched with a big rough stick. He’ll come running at you if you’ve got one of those in your hand.”
