Page 81 of Saving Her Heart
"Alleged bedbugs."
"The exterminator confirmed bedbugs."
"One man's opinion."
I look around the table at these couples who've figured it out, who've made it work despite the hot sauce collections and bedbug couches and action figures.
"How?" I ask. "How do you merge two whole lives?"
"You don't," Kate says simply. "You create a third life. Together."
"Some stuff from before fits," Hudson adds. "Some doesn’t."
"The important things aren't things," Grace says, looking at Kane. "They're the patterns you build. Sunday morning coffee. Thursday date nights."
"Fighting fairly," Riley adds. "No below the belt hits."
"Separate bathrooms," Ian says firmly. "Trust me on this."
"We only have one bathroom," I point out.
"My condolences," Mia says solemnly.
"The point is," Hudson says, raising his beer, "you two have already survived the hardest part. Ten years apart. Compared to that, some throw pillows and storage disputes are nothing."
"To Kendall and Jax," Kate toasts. "May your hot sauce collection and spice organization system coexist in harmony."
"To second chances," Grace adds.
"To not screwing it up this time," Kane laughs.
We all drink, and I realize this—this table full of friends who've become family, who share their struggles and solutions—this is what I was missing all those years alone.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "All of you."
"Don't get sappy on us," Mia warns. "We're here for the gossip, not the feelings."
Chapter 16
Jax
The federal courthouse in West Palm Beach looks like it's hosting a costume party, not a criminal trial. I watch from my truck as the Walking Ladies exit their Buick wearing matching black pantsuits, oversized sunglasses, and what appear to be press badges made from laminated index cards.
"They're really doing this," I mutter to Kendall, who's sitting beside me in her navy suit, hands twisted in her lap.
"At least they left the FBI badges at home," she says, but her voice is tight with nerves.
"That we know of," I counter, then reach over to take her hand. "You ready for this?"
"No," she admits. "William's lawyer is supposed to be ruthless. Harvard Law, never lost a case like this."
"You're just telling the truth," I remind her. "That's all you have to do."
"The truth according to me versus the truth according to the conspirators who'll say anything to reduce their sentences." She squeezes my hand. "What if the jury believes them?"
"Then the jury's blind," I say firmly. "Come on. Let's get inside before Gladys tries to perform a citizen's arrest on someone."
The courthouse security is not amused by the Walking Ladies' "press credentials," but after some negotiation and badge confiscation, they're allowed inside. We find them in the hallway outside the courtroom, huddled together like they're planning a heist.
