Page 116 of Dead Serious with Benefits
“He is a he, yes. We’re engaged.”
“Good,” she said with a nod. “You love him enough to accept that he will be someone you are not, and I hope he does the same for you.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s one of, if notthemost accepting and patient person on the planet,” I said with a snort. “He knows who I am and what I’m like, and he’s not expecting me to change anytime soon.”
“Then I think you’re all set,” she said warmly. “You’re supporting him even though you don’t understand, and he understands you can’t do what he does. Not everyone has to forgive, and not everyone can forget. I don’t expect someone to understand why I do anything more than you would expect your partner...your fiancé, that is, to be like you.”
“If he were like me, that would be boring,” I said.
Our conversation was halted as a harsh buzzer sounded, making me jerk. It didn’t matter how many times we came to this place; I hated all the noise and the buzzer that alerted when someone was coming through the door. We had been coming here once a month for almost a year, and I didn’t think I would ever get used to it. Not the stink, not the sad people that sat in the waiting room, not the chaos that filled the damn building, no matter what time of day it was.
It had taken almost a year for Devon to go to trial, but he never saw much court time. I had been surprised when Arlo asked if my mother could arrange for us to talk to the prosecutor and see if they might plead him down. Actually, I had been shocked and furious. It was one thing to feel conflicted about the man, but it was something else entirely to try to make it easier for him to be out on the streets earlier than he deserved. Furious enough that I had yelled at Arlo for the first time in our relationship, and he had sat there and listened to me, calmly explaining that it was something he felt he needed to do.
“Why? Why thehellwould you give him the chance?” I had railed.
“Because...this is who I am,” he had said softly, but his eyes had blazed.
And that was it. That was all there was to say. That was who he was as a person, and I had known that from the start, so why was I so shocked and furious when he was exactly who I knew he was? He hadn’t said that, but it was there all the same. And if I could love and accept him when it was easy, but not when it was over something that outraged or frustrated me, was I prepared for the long haul with him?
I made the call. My mother had seemed...strange when she asked if it was something I really wanted to happen, and then she hadn’t said anything when I told her that yes, it was something Arlo and I wanted. There had been a pause, so pregnant it threatened to give birth to triplets, but she calmly said she would see what she would do. That meant she would make the call, and it would happen. If Amelia Reddington said she was going to ‘see,’ then she meant it would happen just as surely as if she had promised outright.
And so the meeting had been arranged, and I had gone with Arlo, even though every furious part of me, including the scar on my damned chest, wanted to be anywhere but in that office. Arlohad pleaded his case, or rather, he had pleaded the case for the man who had tried to kill us. I had sat there in silence, letting the whole thing play out. I wasn’t ready when the lawyer turned to me to ask if I was on board with the idea of pleading Devon down, and I had frozen as surprise and anger flared through me. I had almost said no, no, I was not on board, but I was trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and Arlo wanted this to happen because he had the unswerving belief in the goodness of people and second chances.
“Yes,” I said instead. “Arlo is the spokesperson here, but I think he speaks for us.”
I wasn’t the only one who had gone along with the idea. My mother had never said anything about it afterward, so I had no idea if she had even been called to confirm that she supported it, but why would she have to? She was the one who had arranged the meeting; her approval was implicit from the moment we sat down in the office. Later, Matilda confirmed that though she wouldn’t forgive quite as easily as Arlo, she was willing to support him.
So a deal had been struck. Devon would still have to serve up to ten years for what he had done, but there was a chance at about the six-year mark to appeal and get out on probation. It had felt like a slight miscarriage of justice, but it was hard to argue with the results. Arlo had been...more at peace after the deal had been struck, and I accepted that that was just how it was for us. When it came time for him to admit that he wanted to visit the man in prison, I hadn’t been surprised. And it seemed no one else had.
“This one is me,” I told the lady, laying my hand over hers. “Thank you, the conversation was lovely.”
“You take care. Worry about taking care of each other, and not whether you’re not doing the right thing,” she told me as Arlo stepped into the waiting room.
I breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him, meeting him as he crossed the room. His eyes flicked toward me, and I saw that secret smile try to reach his face. I bumped him with my shoulder as we made for the exit, let through by the guard at the door. There were so many doors to get through, it was amazing people even tried to break out. It wasn’t even a high-security facility, but we had to make repeated stops to get through the building.
“Thank you,” he said as we reached the exit.
“You say that every time, and every time I tell you I’m going to come with you,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “That isn’t going to change.”
“I can still be thankful every time,” he said with a shake of his head.
There was something different about this visit that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I decided it wasn’t the place to bring it up. There was something distant about him, quieter, and I offered to drive us back down to Cresson Point. It would be a couple of hours before we reached the city, and maybe the peace of sitting in the passenger seat would give him time to settle into talking about what was on his mind.
As we drove, I snuck looks at him. There was no expression on his face, but I recognized it as him being lost in his thoughts. Something was preying on his mind, and while he would eventually get around to telling me the problem, there was no harm in giving a little push.
“You, uh, never tell me what you two talk about,” I said to get his attention.
He stirred in the seat, turning to look at me curiously. “You’ve never asked.”
“Well, I suppose I’m asking now.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said and turned to look out the window. “At first...we didn’t really talk. I never knew what to say, and I don’t know if he knew whether he even wanted to talk to me.”
“But he can choose whether or not he sees his visitors,” I said as I shifted lanes.
