“So he just doubled down?”
Fran stabbed the call button for the elevator. “Oh, he tripled down. He’s seen your interviews and doesn’t care for the ‘one-sided storytelling,’” she said, adding air quotes. “He suggested we find a better use of our time rather than questioning his judgment.”
The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside. I slumped against the back wall. “So what do we do now?”
“Now we start the appeal process. If Mary Louise is going to have a chance to get out, it’s not going to come from this court.”
I drummed my fingers against the handrail. “You know, this makes me want to do more interviews just to piss him off.”
Fran’s smile was a little scary. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I wish I had better news, Mary Louise,” I said to my computer screen, feeling an uncomfortable combination of disappointed and pissed off.
“Honey, you’ve already done more for me than anyone else. I don’t need any apologies,” she said. Her beige jumpsuit blended in morosely with the industrial gray concrete block background.
“Don’t give up hope,” Fran said at my elbow. “This one was always a long shot. Now we can focus our resources on next steps.”
“I just want you both to know how grateful I am that you’re even taking an interest. It means the world to me and to Allen,” Mary Louise said, tears glittering in her eyes.
“We’ll be in touch soon,” Fran promised.
“Stay positive, Mary Louise,” I said, wishing we’d given her something to feel positive about.
The video feed cut off, and I slumped back in my chair. “Well, I feel like shit,” I announced.
“Don’t let it get you down,” Fran advised, getting to her feet. “Otherwise, you’ll be in the fetal position on the floor, and you’ll miss out on celebrating the millimeters of forward progress.”
Between my dad, the latest Lucian catastrophe, and now the disappointment Mary Louise tried hard to hide, the fetal position sounded pretty damn good to me.
I was wallowing, though at least not in the fetal position, when Naomi bounded into my office like an energetic golden retriever.
“Soooo. How are things?” she asked, perching on my visitor’s chair. She’d been checking on me every hour since I updated her on the disastrous meeting with the judge.
I abandoned the newsletter template I was working on and dropped my head to my desk.
“That good, huh?”
“Everything sucks.”
“I take it you saw it then,” she said sympathetically.
“Saw what?” I asked my keyboard.
“The thing about Lucian.”
I sat up. “What thing about Lucian?” I demanded.
Naomi winced and looked toward the door.
“What thing about Lucian?” I repeated darkly.
She brought her hands to her cheeks. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. It was just some Capitol gossip blog.”
My fingers raced across the keyboard as I typed “Lucian Rollins gossip blog” into the search engine.
I saw the pictures first. Lucian in a tux leading a stunning, statuesque woman by the hand into a hotel. Not just any hotel. Our hotel. Well, technically his hotel. She was beautiful in the kind of “I come from money and really good genes” kind of way. Her sleek, black hair was styled in a classic bun. Her ivory sheath dress contrasted beautifully with her rich, dark skin. And her tailored coat looked like it cost more than the one Lucian had given me.
There was another picture. Another woman on another night. Lucian had his hand resting intimately on a diminutive redhead’s back as they exited a trendy restaurant. She was shorter, curvier, and somehow just as horribly gorgeous in a flirty cocktail dress designed to draw the eye.
I looked away from the screen and willed myself to forget Lucian Rollins and his penis ever existed.
I was no longer the one who drove him crazy, or maybe, as I’d fantasized in my darkest, drunkest moments over the years, the one who got away. Now, I was just one of the legions of women he’d left behind.
My head felt stuffy and full. I could feel my heartbeat at the base of my ponytail. I heard a snap and glanced down to find I’d broken the cap on the pen I held.
“Okay. I can fix this,” Naomi said, pulling her phone out.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Lina. We need alcohol and Silver Fox Joel.”
“I’m fine. We weren’t together. We were just having sex,” I said robotically. “Oh, look at that. His first date sits on the board of DC’s largest food bank, and the second one is a freaking astrophysicist.”