Burke is already at the hearing, too, sitting next to a man I assume to be his lawyer. My stomach is in knots as Nancy, my father, and I follow Davis to the table next to Burke’s, where the state prosecutor, Frank Bruno, is already perched. Frank barely registers our arrival, and I can’t say I blame him. The minute we sit, he stands and approaches Burke’s lawyer, and the two men step to the side of courtroom, huddled in conversation. Cold sweat slicks my brow and palms.
The courtroom isn’t like the ones you see on TV; the space is carpeted and far too small for the power it authorizes. I sense the familiar squeeze of my windpipe, the vibrations in my fingertips, that tell me I won’t be getting out of here without knocking on the closed door. One two three four five six seven eight; eight seven six five four three two one. Already, it calls to me.
Instinctively I look at Burke, and he’s watching me, his blue eyes bright as ever. I crave the sight of his dimples, but he doesn’t smile, his mouth a thin line of concern. I know that Burke can see the panic that has entered my mind because that’s the way love works. I know now that I still love him and he still loves me, and it isn’t just because of what I learned from Heather, though her words ring inside my head: He fell in love with someone else, Skye. You of all people should know that.
I thought it would be different, somehow, seeing Burke in court like this, after nearly two months without communication. I thought it would be awkward or devastating or humiliating, or some combination of the three, but it isn’t. Being in the same room with him is mostly just—relief. Cold water when you’ve been parched for hours. The feeling of coming home after a long time away.
Burke looks pale and tired, as he did at the Oyster Bar in January. But he’s still as handsome as ever in his suit, the way it stretches the span of his broad shoulders, his black hair neatly combed.
The judge seems to be waiting for Burke’s lawyer and Frank to finish their conversation, and the two men finally approach the bench. Frank’s mouth is a thin line as Burke’s lawyer whispers something to the judge, whose eyebrows jump. She gives a brisk nod, and the two men return to their seats.
The judge begins speaking, and I watch Burke’s gaze shift to the front of the room. I’m so nervous I’m dizzy, and I grip the table for support.
“Burke Michaels.” She clears her throat. “In a very surprising turn of events, the State of New York hereby has reduced the charge against you, from grand larceny to petit larceny. How do you plead?”
Burke opens his mouth to speak, then turns toward his lawyer, who whispers something in his ear. A few moments of silence pass.
“Guilty, Your Honor,” Burke says, and the sound of his steady, familiar voice fills me with ease.
I don’t have to look at Davis to know that he’s the color of boiled beets.
“All right, then.” A thoroughly stunned expression has morphed the judge’s face. “Given that petit larceny is a class A misdemeanor in the state of New York, I hereby sentence you to a year of probation and a five-hundred-dollar fine. And with that, I’m pleased to say I’m taking an exceptionally early lunch. Court is dismissed.”
Underneath the table, Nancy squeezes my hand. Relief drenches me.
I look over at Burke, whose forehead is scrunched. His lawyer’s mouth is gaping. He leans in toward Burke and claps him on the back, obstructing Burke’s face from my view.
“A year of fucking probation,” Davis hisses, shaking his head at me. He snatches his briefcase and storms out of the room without saying a word to anyone, even my father. Frank Bruno follows in his wake.
The rest of us stand, and Nancy pulls me in for a hug. “That wasn’t so bad, huh? You did the right thing.”
Behind her, my father lingers. Finally, he steps toward me. “The rational side of my brain can’t understand why the hell you’re doing this. But there’s another part of me that, well … I’m proud of you, Skye.” His voice is stiff but I can tell that his words are genuine. I don’t regret my decision, but I still can’t bear how much pain this entire mess has caused him.
“You don’t have to say that, Dad. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”
“No, it’s true, I am proud. You followed your gut and you listened to your heart.” He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Your mom always listened to her heart, too. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have ended up with me.”
I smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
From behind me, Nancy taps my arm. “I think there’s someone who wants to talk to you, Skye.”
I look past my dad’s shoulder, and there he is, standing tall. I can tell he’s working to contain his smile, likely out of respect for my father.
I pull my dad in for a hug, resting my cheek against his chest so that I can hear the strong beat of his heart. His good, good heart. “I’ll catch up with you and Nancy in a few minutes, okay?”
My dad hesitates, then nods. Burke steps forward, and my father studies him sternly before turning toward the door. I cast Nancy a grateful look before she turns to follow him.
Suddenly, Burke and I are alone. I’m close enough to inhale the familiar scent of his skin—soap and pine.
“Hi,” he says.
“Maybe we should go outside?” I glance sideways toward the judge, who is watching us while she gathers her things from the bench.
Burke and I walk toward the double doors and out into the hallway of the courthouse.
“Skye.” Burke’s eyes are wild and wide. “What happened? Brian—my lawyer—said you let me go on the grand larceny? That you wouldn’t testify? Why would you do that? Brian said I was supposed to get five to eight years. What’s going on?”
I smile, a strange comfort filling me. The proximity of the man I’ve missed for so long—his strong, clean jawline, broad shoulders, shocking blue eyes—melts my body at the same time it steadies me.
“You didn’t deserve to go to prison for that long, Burke. You didn’t deserve to take the fall for everything. We both know that what you told your lawyer—and the judge—wasn’t the true story.”
Burke is quiet for a moment. We study each other’s eyes.
“What do you think is true, then?” The air in the hallway is still, humming with uncertainty. “God, look at your face.” He lifts an arm as if to reach for me, then lets it drop. “Skye, what do you think is true?” he whispers.
“I think you love me,” I say finally.
“I do. You have no idea how happy it makes me that you know that.”
“I think you did a bad thing, but I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you can’t tell me the full story of what happened, but I know I’ve figured it out. I knew that day at the Oyster Bar; I saw the look on your face when I asked directly if Heather coerced you into this whole scheme. I think you’re an absolute idiot for even entertaining the idea, but I think you agreed to it because you didn’t know how else to save your marriage. I think you didn’t know how to acknowledge that there was nothing left to save. I think you and I fell in love.”
Burke’s eyes are wet and he nods slowly. “Do you still love me?”