Page 84 of Cherished Lands
Tessa's steps faltered when she saw him. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back twice. Our silent signal that she was okay.
Ray's eyes snapped up as we approached, cold and calculating as ever. He ended his call without so much as a goodbye and slid the phone into his pocket.
"Theresa. I see you're still playing house with the hick."
Before I could react, Tessa stepped forward. "Good morning, Father. I see you're still trying to control things that aren't yours to control."
Ray's lips thinned—so similarly to the way Tessa's did when she was angry that it was unsettling.
"All rise," a clerk called out, saving us from whatever cutting remark Ray had been about to make. "The Honorable Judge Matthews will see you now."
The judge's chambers were nothing like I imagined. I'd expected dark wood and leather, but the room was bright and modern. Judge Matthews herself sat behind a glass desk. She had small, square glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, cut in a sharp bob.
"Well," she said, gesturing to the chairs arranged before her desk, "this is quite the family drama you've brought to my courthouse."
Ray's lawyer started to speak, but the judge held up her hand.
"Mr. Peterson, I've read your briefs. All of them. What I haven't heard"—her eyes fixed on Tessa and me—"is why two people who supposedly hated each other for years suddenly decided to get married. And why I shouldn't view that marriage as exactly what Mr. Belmonte claims it is: a transparent attempt to circumvent a valid contract."
My throat went dry. How could we possibly explain everything that had brought us here? The years of tension, the way fighting had turned to something else, the moment I realized I couldn't imagine my life without her annoying, beautiful presence in it?
But Tessa, my brilliant wife, didn't hesitate.
"Your Honor," she said, her voice calm and clear, "would you like to hear about the time my husband carried me two miles through the snow because my car broke down, all while complaining that I was the most irritating woman he'd ever met?"
The judge's eyebrows shot up, and I caught the hint of a smile playing at her lips.
"Please," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me everything."
Tessa wove our story beautifully—every charged moment, every seemingly insignificant interaction. She talked about the maple snow cones at the winter festival, Sunday brunches withmy family, the way we'd gone from enemies to soulmates without even realizing it.
While Tessa spoke, I watched the judge's face, searching for any sign that she believed us, but her expression remained carefully neutral.
"It's a lovely story," she said, adjusting her glasses. "But I'm afraid that's all it appears to be—a story."
Tessa's face went ashen. "Your Honor?—"
"Ms. Belmonte—excuse me, Mrs. Everton—the timing is simply too convenient. The witness statements, while compelling, don't override the fact that this marriage occurred mere days before a major business venture that would otherwise violate your contract."
Ray's smug smile made me want to punch his face into a whole new shape.
"Furthermore," the judge continued, "there's no evidence of an actual romantic relationship prior to the marriage. No dates, no photographs, nothing but retrospective observations from friends and family who seem eager to support your narrative."
"Because we were idiots," I burst out. "We were too stubborn to see what was right in front of us until?—"
"Mr. Everton. I appreciate your passion, but the facts remain. Based on the evidence before me, I'm inclined to grant the preliminary injunction."
The small, wounded sound Tessa made would haunt me forever.
"I'll issue my formal ruling tomorrow," Judge Matthews said, already gathering her papers. "But I suggest you prepare your contractors for a work stoppage."
The walk back to the truck passed in a blur. Tessa was silent, her expression composed.
That frozen mask scared me more than tears would have. She held it together through Hank's reassurances about appeals and alternative strategies. Held it together as we drove past the cidery, where the contractors were already starting their day's work.
It wasn't until we were inside our house that she finally broke.
I caught her before her knees hit the floor, gathering her against my chest as the sobs wracked her body. There was nothing I could say, no way to fix this. I'd promised to protect her, to fight for her, and I was failing.
