Page 60 of Meant for Stone (Meant For)

“I’ve corrected the error and will refile immediately once I get back to my office.”

“While this isn’t irreparable damage, the court will not forget what you’ve done here especially since you have aspirations of becoming a district attorney, Ms. Beckett.” He picks up his gavel. “Court adjourned.” His words are harsh, but I wasn’t expecting anything less. He was beyond pissed I’ve wasted his time since he started reading the brief and now has to wait for me to send the correct version.

I’m already standing when the bailiff says, “All rise.” I wait until Judge King walks out of the room before I grab my bag. Luckily, more people have entered the courtroom, so I avoid talking to Mr. Bradley. The last thing I need is for him to gloat. I walk out of the courtroom and opt to work from home today. I’m not sure I can face the office, knowing that the word will get out. News like this spreads like wildfire, and even though none of us judges the other, our pride makes it seem like that.

That night, when Stone calls me, I answer. “Hey,” I answer softly, looking at his face. His eyes look darker than I've ever seen them.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and I have to wonder how bad I look.

“Not really.” I don’t know why with him I open myself up like I have to no one else, not even my parents. “This has been a clusterfuck of two days.” I wipe the tear I’ve finally allowed myself to shed. “I fucked up.” My voice trembles. “So fucking bad I?—”

“Gorgeous,” he says softly, and it just makes me want to be with him so much more. I can feel his arms around me. I wish I could crawl through the phone and be with him. “Shit happens.”

“I should have known better,” I admit. “I should have double-checked or even triple-checked.” He listens to me beat myself up.

“Are you done yet?” he asks, and I just look at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” He smiles. “You admitted you fucked up. Now you get back up and be the badass I know you can be.” I sniffle. “I hate that you are crying, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s okay, you have to be a hotshot hockey player.” I roll my eyes, and by the end of the phone call, I tell myself that tomorrow is a new day.

I go all day with my head focused on my opening statement, only getting home a bit after nine o’clock to a huge teddy bear at my front door with a big blue card in the middle. I open the card to see the words.

Gorgeous,

I’m sorry I can’t be there to hug you, but he can take my place for now.

SR

I smile before dragging it into the apartment and straight to my bedroom. For the rest of the week I’m so focused on the case I don’t even know what day it is. With Stone traveling in Canada and then coming home, our conversations have been all through text.

The day of the trial, I wake up with a text from him.

SR: Go and show them what you’re made of.

I smile, getting dressed in a blue pantsuit before heading down to the courthouse. The nerves hit me right away in my stomach. I get to the courtroom and walk in, my head in a different mindset than the last time I was here. I walk over to my table and pull out my chair, sitting down. I open my bag, taking out my folders and placing them all in the order with the witnesses who will be called. I look over to see Mr. Bradley arrive with his client, Robert Phillips. He smirks at me as he takes his seat next to Mr. Bradley.

I don’t have a chance to think about it by the time the bailiff says to all rise. I put my hands on the desk and mumble to myself, “Let’s do this.”

For the next four days, I eat, sleep, and breathe the trial. I got a break over the weekend but all I did was think about the trial and how it was going. I need to win this trial so I reviewed everything over and again. Making sure I didn’t leave anything out, making sure that every single point was made. I briefly talked to Stone on Saturday but I wasn’t focused on our conversation and I told him that I would call him back. On Monday, when the closing arguments are done, I look over at the jury as they listen to Judge King give them instructions before they file out.

I’m back at the office the next day, waiting on the jury’s verdict when Stone calls. “It feels like I haven’t spoken to you in forever.”

“That’s because you haven’t,” he says. “Last time we spoke was three days ago and you said you would call me back.”

“Sorry,” I say, “court life. Are you home?” It dawns on me that I have no idea what his schedule is because it’s been that long.

“I am. We have a game tonight and then another tomorrow before I head out to Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and then Washington.” He trails off, and I’m waiting for the dreaded question. “When will we see each other?” I think he’s gone easy on me since I’ve been in court, but if I were him, my patience would be growing thin. It’s been over three weeks since I’ve seen him last, and that visit was for less than twelve hours. The phone call goes silent, both of us thinking it but neither of us saying what should be said. Instead, we skate around the issue all the time. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

“I’ll call you later,” I say before he hangs up.

That night, I have to stream the hockey game on my computer. My heart literally skips a beat when I see him on the screen. I can’t help the smile that fills my face, and my hand reaches out to touch the screen, just to touch his face.

The next day, late in the afternoon, I’m in my office when my phone rings, telling me the jury has reached their verdict. I rush toward the courthouse, my whole body a pack of nerves. I know that I gave it everything I had. I stand in the courtroom while the jury comes in, and I listen with bated breath as Judge King asks them, “Have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.” The jury foreman stands up. I listen to the judge giving her the instructions, and then I hear her. “In the case against Robert Phillips.” I trail off until I hear, “We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.” I close my eyes and try not to sit down in defeat, willing myself not to break down in the courtroom.

The judge thanks the jury for their time, but all I can hear are those two words. Not guilty.

I walk out of the courtroom in a daze, texting two people, my boss and then Stone, the same message to both.

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