Page 39 of Sweet on You
13
Lex
“Don’t be nervous,” Brady said, leaning into me as we sat next to each other on the hard wood benches of the courtroom.
I nodded, yet sweat pushed through my pores, and my heart raced within my ribcage. How the hell could Inotbe nervous?
When London was brought in—or rather, Sarah— her face was gaunt. Her sallow cheeks were sunken in and there were sores on her arms and chin. She wasn’t the woman I once knew. Or… maybe she was. MaybeIused to look like that, too, and just had no idea what the drugs were doing to my body or hers. A lump lodged in the center of my throat. She didn’t see me. She didn’t look like she saw anyone in that courtroom. Her glassy eyes were vacant, even when they landed on an older woman sitting just behind her. The woman brushed back her blondish, gray hair, waved and gave a sad smile, clutching the tissue in her palm like it was a life preserver and she was clinging on for dear life.
The bailiff entered, standing rigidly beside the podium. “All rise. Judge Levinson presiding.”
The first half of the court preceding went quickly, as Brady told me it would. Arraignments aren’t trials. It was likely that Sarah wasn’t even fully detoxed yet. Sarah. Sarah. It was going to take a while to get used to saying her real name. Bail was set at ten thousand dollars and I saw the older woman cringe, sniffle, and press the tissue to her nose.
The judge lifted a sheet of paper and held it up to his eyes. His glasses were dangling off the tip of his narrow nose, and it looked like all it would take was a slight tilt of his head to make them slip off entirely. “It’s been brought to my attention that the father of Ms. Murphy’s child saw the abandonment ad in the paper and is here today. Is that true?”
Brady put a hand to my shoulder and we both stood. I had never been a person who sought out the spotlight. In high school, I never played in the band or did theater or sports. I was a loner. I painted. I helped my parents cook in their restaurant on the weekends. Baked with my grandmother. But being the center of attention was not something I craved. And as the butterflies flipped in my stomach, I remembered why.
“Yes, your Honor,” Brady said as he stood and I did the same. “My client, Alexander Bailey, is here today to claim paternity of his daughter.”
Sarah’s head whipped around, and suddenly, that vacant look in her eyes was wild. Her nostrils flared as her gaze landed on me, her jaw clenched. She launched to her feet and pointed. “What in the hell ishedoing here?” she shouted.
The older woman that I assumed was Sarah’s mother leaned over the wooden partition. “It’s his right to be here, honey.”
“Like hell—”
The judge slammed his gavel onto the desk. “Order! Order in this courtroom.”
“Heshould be the one going to prison. He didn’t even want our daughter!” When she pointed at me again, her fingers were trembling uncontrollably.
“Mr. Colten, I suggest you get your client under control. One more outburst and she’s going to be held in contempt.”
Her lawyer leaned over to her, whispering something in her ear. She lowered her hand from where she was pointing at me, but her eyes didn’t budge. Not one bit. They were fixed on me and filled with hate. Hate and anger and… tears. Tears that ripped my heart in two. I was angry she had kept me from my daughter … but I could also understand why. She didn’t know the man I’d become. And the man I used to be… he scared her. He scared me, too, if I was being honest.
“As we were saying. In order to claim paternity of Olivia Roxanne Murphy, the court will need a DNA sample. Is this something you are willing to provide the court?” the judge asked.
Brady looked at me, giving me an encouraging nod to answer the judge. “It is, Your Honor.”
“Does this please the current guardians of Olivia Roxanne Murphy?”
The older woman stood, still wringing the tissue in her hands. “It does, Your Honor. With the history of drug use, we also wanted to add to that, a drug test.” She glanced briefly at me, her eyes tilted down, a frown marring her face. She looked more than just sad or worried. She looked distraught. From across the room, I gave her a small smile and a quick nod—a small gesture, but the meaning behind it went deep. The gratitude I felt inside was more than I could ever verbalize to the grandmother of my child. Not every grandparent would let me meet my daughter today. Not every grandparent would be willing to communicate with mediators outside of the court. I had no doubt this wouldn’t be easy, but so far, it was more than I’d ever hoped for.
The judge glanced at Brady first, then me. “Is this something you would be willing to do?”
I nodded. “It is, Your Honor.”
“Great.” The judge slapped the paperwork down. “I trust the rest of this can be settled in mediation or family court.”
I don’t remember what else was said in the rest of the arraignment. My mind was reeling, drifting off into a million other places. After this, we were going to the lab to give my DNA sample, and there at the hospital, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy were going to allow me to meet Olivia in a supervised visit. How could I ever concentrate on what was happening in front of me knowing I was minutes away from meeting my daughter?
Next thing I knew, people around us were standing, exiting. Sarah was being led away, off to somewhere in a back room. No, not just a back room. Jail. My ex-girlfriend was going to jail. And frankly, it could have just as easily been me in that orange jumpsuit. I was just fortunate enough to have gotten sober and stayed sober.
“You ready?” Brady asked for what felt like the millionth time this morning.
With a deep breath, I pushed off my knees and stood, making eye contact with Mrs. Murphy. We met in the center aisle and she eyed me carefully. But she looked nice. Maybe friendly. Then again, my intuition about people had been wrong in the past. At any minute, she could turn on me and attack. Right now, she held all the cards… and she knew it. But I also think she knew she wouldn’t hold them for long. As soon as that paternity test came back, my stake in this game grew.
“Mrs. Murphy,” Brady said and awarded her with one of the most dashing smiles I’ve ever seen. Granted, I hadn’t known this lawyer more than a couple days, but he knew how to charm people, that was for sure. “We spoke on the phone yesterday. I’m Brady Goldman.”
She smiled, and though it was tired, it also looked genuine. She was older than my own mother by maybe ten years—she looked like she was in her late sixties or early seventies. Far too old to be chasing after a toddler. And with each step, she limped a little.
