Page 84 of Legally Ours

The man pumped his hand enthusiastically, looking around the shop as if to show everyone else in it that he was really touching a famous person––if Brandon could actually be called famous. With a sinking feeling, I realized that was exactly what he was now.

"I know you," his wife said, and it took me a few moments to realize she was talking to me. Her finger jabbed through the air. "You're that little tramp from the pictures. The one that broke up his marriage." She looked at her husband. "His poor wife was traumatized, as she had every right to be!"

"Now, wait just a minute, ma'am––" Brandon broke in.

I placed a hand on his flexed arm––tension vibrated through it like a guitar string.

But the lady paid no mind as she stepped closer to me with angry, beady eyes. "I read that interview in The Globe. He's just a man––they can't help it. But you, you little hussy, you should know better than to step into another woman's marriage!"

"I-I-" I stuttered, stepping backward into Brandon's chest.

The room suddenly felt like it was caving in on me, and my New Yorker bravado was nowhere to be found. Behind me, Brandon was shaking, a dynamite stick ready to go off.

"Whore!" the woman hissed angrily as she took another step forward. A wave of whispers filtered through the shop. "Homewrecker! You leave him alone, you little slut!"

"That's enough!" Brandon erupted.

He proceeded to tow me away toward the back of the shop, out of the angry reach of the deranged woman and the rest of our audience. Unfortunately, even that exit was no longer available to us. The commotion had caused several photographers to surround the shop on both sides, and when we stepped into the alley, we were immediately hounded.

"Brandon!" they called. "Mr. Sterling! Skylar! What are you doing here? Are you hiding from your constituents? Are you ashamed of your relationship? Does Miranda know you're out?"

"No comment," Brandon said through teeth clenched so hard I thought his jaw was about to break.

"What's that ring, Skylar?" another photographer shouted, causing another frenzied round of clicks to spark off. The rest of them started shouting questions about the ring. I shoved my hand into my pocket.

"Don't hide it, honey!"

"Are you engaged?"

"Did he give you his wife's ring?"

Someone––I couldn't have said who––grabbed my arm in an attempt to pull my hand out of my pocket.

"Hey!" I yelped, yanking my arm back. "Don't touch me!"

Brandon reared back, looking very much like a bull that just saw red. "Get the fuck off her, man!"

He swiped over me toward the photographer while at the same time pulling me in front of him. Lucas stood at the end of the alley, waiting next to the Mercedes. I ran toward him.

"Whoa there, Brandon, are you assaulting the press?" jeered another photographer.

Another round of clicks and flashes went off. Brandon's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he glared at the cameras.

"Brandon, come on!" I called as I slid into the car. I reached out a hand, beckoning him to me.

Chest heaving, he glared at the cameramen, who were enjoying nothing more than taking even more pictures of the upset giant. These pictures, this story would be all over social media by the end of the day. Brandon needed to come now before it escalated even more.

"Come on, sir." Lucas clapped a hand on his boss to steer him back to the car.

For a moment, I thought he'd have to fight him, but finally, Brandon allowed himself to be shuffled into the backseat with me. The door shut behind him, and Lucas scurried around to the front to drive. Someone else would have to come back for his car later.

It wasn't until we were safely out of town, past the last of the stop signs and news trucks, that Brandon finally started to breathe normally again. He sat forward, with his elbows on his knees, and buried his head in his hands for a very long time.

~

That night, hours after he returned from his event, where he was peppered by members of the press following a speech on union rights, Brandon had another nightmare. It only ended when he shouted so loud I thought my ear drums burst. Wide awake, we stared at each other in the dark room. Even in the moonlight, I could see the tear tracks down the sides of his face, the creases even deeper over his eyebrows. Tears welled up in my eyes too, and we watched each other shake for a few seconds before Brandon suddenly hauled me into his chest. It was only when we were wrapped in each other's arms, breathing our mingled scents of almonds, jasmine, sweat, and tears that sleep was finally able to claim us for a few more hours.

~

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