It’s an odd experience to be sitting in a wheelchair and rolling down the hall of a police station I’ve walked many times in a legal capacity. Not only are people avoiding my gaze because of my apparent disability, but I don’t have the same confidence I used to possess. Because this time it’s my husband behind bars and I can’t do a thing to fight for him. I’m at the mercy of another lawyer. Although, the moment I see Henry’s kind smile, I’m comforted. He gives me hope there still are men who can be trusted.

“Cassie,” he says as he comes over to me. “They’re ready to question Tristan, but I wanted to talk to you first. What can you tell me?”

“I think he’s guilty.” I share Tristan’s suspicious behavior over the last two weeks with Henry before he assures me he’s going to get my husband out on bail no matter what it costs. He leaves for the interview, and the wheels of my chair rumble over the tile as I go position myself against the wall to wait. My baby has calmed down now that the small amount of caffeine I consumed has been digested, and I’m grateful at least my child is okay.

After what feels like hours, Henry comes out with Tristan. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see my husband as my love for him fills me with warmth. I reach my hand out to him, but he ignores it. I say, “I’m so glad you’re out of there. I don’t think I could bear it if you had to stay overnight.”

Tristan’s expression is hard. “I know.”

He stands up as Henry says “I’d like to take this to my office. We need to talk.” He nods toward the door. “My car is out front.”

Henry’s office is the penthouse of one of his apartment buildings, and he takes us up in a private elevator. I’m not the least bit surprised when the doors whoosh open to a modern apartment done in black and white with splashes of red. I leave my wheelchair by the door and get up to walk over to the thick glass wall where I take in the view of the city below. Lights twinkle and flash as billboards play video ads and cars drive by. “Impressive.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Henry asks.

I shake my head as Tristan says, “No. I’m anxious to hear about what happens next.”

Henry leads us over to a sitting area and takes a place in a chair while Tristan and I sit on separate chairs. He says, “Because Tristan hasn’t been violent or displayed extreme irrational behavior, I should have no trouble pleading this down to a misdemeanor. We can probably avoid jail time too.”

“No,” says Tristan.

“No?” I ask.

“I’m not guilty.”

I close my eyes and sigh as I remember the hundreds of time my father tried to convince me he wasn’t an alcoholic and that he could quit any time, only to be falling down drunk later that night when I got home from work. “Tristan.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“You tested positive. There have been mood swings and—”

“And the test was wrong.” He glares at me.

Henry says, “While that’s possible, unfortunately we can’t prove it.”

“So we plead it down,” I say. I turn to Tristan. “This isn’t a big deal. You’ll go to rehab and we’ll get through this together.”

Tristan clenches his jaw. “I don’t need rehab, Cassie, because I’m not addicted to caffeine.”

I throw up my hands. “Fine.” I look at Henry with the hope he can talk some sense into my husband. While I know what a trial entails, I think Tristan needs to hear it from someone other than me. “What happens if we go to trial?”

“That depends on what we can find for evidence to prove the test is unreliable. I’ll do some digging,” says Henry.

I frown, because while Henry is being a good lawyer, I don’t think Tristan understands what could really happen if we fight this. I say, “Once the plea is off the table, it’s not going to come back, Tristan. You need to understand that if it can’t be proven the test was wrong, you will go to jail.”

“I get it,” he says. “But I’m not willing to confess to something I didn’t do.”

I bite my tongue instead of speaking my mind in front of Henry, and I address the older man. “Thank you for this. You’ll call us as soon as you know anything?”

“I will.” He stands up. “Go home and rest. The car is waiting for you.”

Tristan shakes Henry’s hand as we walk to the door. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help.”

Henry claps him on the shoulder and tugs him into a one-armed hug. “You’ve very welcome. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

My husband and I don’t speak as we go down the elevator and through the lobby. He pushes my wheelchair out into the cool night air, and I lift my face up to the breeze. I wonder how I ended up back in a situation I couldn’t wait to escape when I was growing up. I think about how we’re about to have a baby, and no matter what I do, Tristan is in my life forever. And god help me, I want him to be. At least the Tristan I married. My heart aches with my love for him. And while my logical side is telling me I don’t want to go down the path of life with an addict, I can’t walk away. I have to dig deep and find a way to fight for the man I love.

The car door clicks open as the driver pulls it, and I get up from the wheelchair. What lies ahead for me seems daunting. But like any overwhelming case I’ve had, I know I need to break it down. One step at a time. I move toward the car, and Tristan and I ride home in silence. It’s not until we’re inside the apartment that we speak.

I walk over to sit on the couch, and when I get there Tristan places himself across from me. “You don’t believe me.”

“Tristan.” I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. I know I can’t force him to admit he has a problem until he’s ready, so I say, “It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is that I’m here for you, and we’ll get through this together.”

“You’re here for me.” He shakes his head and gets up. “Here for me.” He walks over to the window and stares out of it. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing as I wait for him to speak. Tristan turns around to face me. “I need you to be more than the person who is here for me. I need you to believe in me, Cassie. Because if you don’t...” He looks up at the sky and when he returns his gaze to me his expression is pained. “I can’t do this.”

As he walks toward the bedroom I ask, “What can’t you do?”

“Us. I’m going to stay at Jake and Hannah’s.”

I jump to my feet and follow him into the bedroom. “You’re just going to leave?”

Tristan walks over to take my arms lightly. He leads me to the bed where I sit. His face is clouded with sadness. “I love you more than I ever thought possible, Cassie. But I can’t love enough for both of us.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I love you too. And I do believe in you, Tristan. Doesn’t the fact I want you to focus on writing your book tell you that? I know you’re going to be an amazing author one day.”

“Really? That’s why you’re doing it? Because it seems to me that what you love is being the one who makes the money and calls the shots in our marriage.”

“That’s not true.” He raises an eyebrow, and shame burns in me. I do like being in charge, but I’m also allowing him the freedom to work on his career.

“Look. I don’t have an ego problem with you being the major breadwinner. But I expect the same respect in return.”

“I do respect you! I think you’re amazing, Tristan. I brag about you all the time.”

“That’s true. You like to brag about how you take care of me and how much I love to serve you.

“I—” I’m not sure how to express my thoughts on his addiction without making him more angry, but I refuse to lie and enable his behavior. “I think you believe you’ll never consume caffeine again.”

He shakes his head in disgust. “You are such a lawyer.” A drawer scrapes open as he tugs it, and clothing thuds in the bag he has on the floor.

“Tristan.” He doesn’t stop packing. “Tristan, please!”

When he glances up at me his eyes are shiny. “I can’t make you believe me, and I can’t be around someone who thinks I’m a liar.” He bends down, and the zipper of his bag hums as he closes it.

Panic rises in me, and my heart begins to beat faster. I can’t lose him! “You’re just going to walk out of here and leave me and the baby alone?”

“You don’t need me.”

“Of course I do!”

“No, Cassie, you don’t. You need a housekeeper,” says Tristan as he walks out of the bedroom without looking my way.