Chapter Two

Joslyn

“Your Honor. Since the day Mr. Nixon broke out as a solo artist, he has been one of the most consistently followed celebrities in Hollywood. He was leaving the courthouse after signing his divorce papers and was attacked by not one but dozens of members of the press asking him questions about something that happened in his life years ago. A very personal matter, I’d like to add. He did nothing to spur on this uncalled-for behavior. He has a squeaky clean record, he’s an upstanding citizen, and if I may, sir, I would like to add that my client very rarely talks to the press about his personal life. In fact, he doesn’t at all. With his celebrity status, he was expecting questions regarding his divorce. Not for a man to pull the rug out from under him and ask him if he knew his high school girlfriend, who happens to be me, had suffered a miscarriage. There’s no shame in a man protecting himself or anyone else from pain. Therefore, I address the court and the district attorney’s office to reconsider the charges and have them dismissed. I would also like to ask that Mr. Nixon be allowed to walk out of here on the merit of recognizance instead of paying the ridiculous bail amount set forth by the DA,” I announce then sit back down shakily and try to hold it together.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not quite understanding what in the hell I just did. I’ve gone and thrown my heart right in the mix of this with my admission. Whatever. They have all heard about me anyway. I’m sure of it. May as well give a few more pieces to the media who were all over me this morning like flies on shit enough to let them argue about who reported it first.

They were awful a little while ago when Marcus escorted me in here. It was bad enough to wake up this morning and see my face on every scaggy lying rag magazine in the world when I strolled by a vendor. Now it’s flying around the Internet. I’ve even made the morning news. Probably in fifty fucking languages by now, too. Only, the story they are telling is the truth this time instead of all the lies they usually spill.

This was definitely not my idea of becoming a well-known hotshot lawyer. I’d much rather stick to the boring side of being a general practice lawyer after this and fiddle around with people’s taxes. There isn’t anyone out there I know who loves to hear that word. Including me. I’ll do it if it gets them to stay off my back.

There shouldn’t be any more questions asked by anyone in this room that’s suddenly silent. Even if the district attorney objects, all they’re going to do is waste everyone’s time. What that slimy asshole did was uncalled for. The only thing hurting on him is his ego and his supposedly broken nose, a few cracked ribs, and a swollen esophagus from being throat punched. I’m sure his wallet won’t be hurting for quite some time. If ever. Neither will every magazine that printed this.

If the DA is willing to do his job by tossing this out, then he doesn’t give a crap either way that I’ve fallen off the cliff I was dangling on before this bomb hit me out of nowhere. I’ve been shaking in my seat while waiting for Roman’s case to be called. I only hope the judge is the only one who noticed; not the man sitting close to me. I saw the pity in the old man’s eyes when he walked out and searched me out from his seat on the bench. Pity is not what I need.

I’m a mess. Barely keeping it together at the moment. I’m also damn good at my job, but I now think I went a tad too far by representing my client to the best of my ability. I’ve pretty much admitted what they were trying to confirm. They all want to know if I lost our baby. I did.

I’m also angry with myself for treating Roman like shit when he never did anything wrong. It was me who tore us apart. Me who gave up on us after the devastation that messed me up for a very long time. I stood in front of him and shot bullets out of my mouth. Directed my emotional baggage at him when what I should have done was send his publicist in to tell him his lawyer would like a private word with him. Except, there wasn’t much time left before he needed to be here due to me stalling when getting ready this morning. It hurts to see him.

Seeing him again is like acid pumping through my veins. Every drip a constant biting fear of wondering if that will be the one to drag me under. He’s perfect. More handsome than all the times I watched him on television. The photos I would see lined up on covers of magazines while standing in the check-out line lost in thought. Remembering all of the times we would climb trees, making up our own games with the few toys we had. Stumbling upon the railcar and the excitement two young kids felt over a secret hideaway.

A part of me shivered when he spoke my name. The part I’ve guarded since the accident, the big black hole in my chest retrieved back into herself, leaving years of hurt to be hung out to dry. It did nothing to protect the instinctive reaction my body had to the deepness in his voice that to this day is rooted deep inside of me.

I felt his eyes penetrating into me as I took in his short-cropped dark hair, dark-colored eyes that always reminded me of hot chocolate on a cold winter night. I used to wrap myself up in their warmth. He’s taller, filled out with muscles everywhere. Tattered jeans, black boots, and a stretched black T-shirt across a chest that I want to rub my hands down before falling into a dreamy sleep while lying naked by his side.

I should have never walked out of my office and into the break room for a bottle of water yesterday. But I did. Good ole Joslyn Reynolds, the woman who doesn’t ask her secretary to fetch things she can get for herself, walked right into a small room with a dozen of my co-workers, while they all stopped what they were doing and stared at me with their jaws hitting the floor.

My high school picture, along with several recent photos and my life history were flashing across the television screen right next to his, and in a matter of minutes, the heart I’d worked years at trying to build back up I felt ripped right out of my chest. I turned white as a sheet.

If it hadn't been for my co-worker Chad convincing me to take a seat, I would have grabbed my gun and driven up here to shoot Roman dead, whether it was his fault or not. Which I know it isn’t. It’s his skin-and-bones supermodel plastic Barbie wannabe ex-wife’s fault. I only know this because Marcus told me their suspicions. The bitch better hope I never have to see her, or I’ll wrap my hands around her scrawny little neck and choke the hundred pounds right out of her.

Yet here I am helping him out after getting what started out to be a phone call to warn me. To which I basically told Marcus to fuck off and die because I already knew. Except, when he told me the best thing I could do to show the vultures they weren’t getting to me was to show up and represent Roman, I found myself angrily saying yes.

I ignore the stare I’m receiving from Roman and rest my hands on the desk in front of me while we wait for the judge to make his ruling when suddenly I’m torn apart even more by uninvited memories I’ve hidden for years.

I knew Roman was going to win the contest with the first word that came out of his mouth. He had a talent like nothing I had heard before. When his name was announced, he didn’t wait for the announcer even to finish before he jumped off that stage and brought me into his arms. I was happy for him. This young man who had been abandoned by his parents the same as me deserved the world, and as much as it killed me, I wasn’t going to stand in his way. I relied on him too much as it was.

When he told me they wanted him immediately in LA, I convinced him to go instead of being the clingy girlfriend who wanted desperately to cry and tell him to stay. I wasn’t that type of a girl. I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a social worker, to help other children who weren’t as fortunate as the two of us were.

I didn’t know where I would eventually end up in my life the day I walked away from him standing at the top of the stairs in the one place that holds more happy memories for me than anywhere else. I just had the nagging feeling that our separation was going to drive us apart.

Little did I know that on that very same day, the last time we had sex, I would end up pregnant. Life sure does have a funny way of changing directions in a blink of an eye.

So, I packed up my bags and listened to my heart instead of the voice in my head telling me to let him go and not tell him about the baby. I couldn’t do that to Roman, our unborn child, or to me. We all deserved to be together. I missed him like crazy, and he missed me. We were young, barely able to speak to one another on the phone due to our conflicting schedules, but through it all, we loved each other more than we did ourselves. I could hear the desperate pain of how much he missed me in his voice every time we talked.

I felt out of sorts the day I started the long drive in my run-down Toyota to surprise him. I chalked it up to nerves over seeing him, his reaction, and driving across the country by myself.

By the time I hit the busy traffic outside of Chicago, my palms were sweaty, and my knees wouldn’t stop shaking as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic with my music blaring. What I should have done was pay attention to what was happening behind me. A semi barreled into a vehicle a few back from mine, causing a domino effect of every car to collide into the one in front of it or veer sideways and hit the cement barrier. I didn’t see it coming. Had no idea what happened until I woke up in the hospital days later, disoriented and in a state of panic.

I knew I had lost my baby before the doctor told me. I lay there for hours mourning the loss on my own. It was the hardest thing I have been through in my life to lie there and think of what could have been and the decisions I had to make.

I was lucky to be alive, and yet I didn’t feel lucky at all. On a drastic whim, after noticing my backpack sitting in a chair in the corner, I rang the buzzer for the nurse. To my surprise, it wasn’t her who walked in. It was a short, young woman around my age. Dark hair and deep, caring green eyes. Her name was Caroline. She worked as a nurse’s aide part time while attending Loyola University. I pulled myself out of my stupor, asked her for my bag, and made the call that would change my life.

Caroline didn’t say a word before she walked out and closed the door. Somehow, I knew she was out there waiting. It took everything I had in me to tell Roman. My heart silently cried when his first words were why didn’t I tell him. How did I think I could drive across the country alone when I barely drove around our town. He was hurt. I became angry. And then he begged me to forgive him. Told me he would be there to get me as soon as he could. I didn’t hang around, and to this day I wish I had. I let him go. I had to. Our lives were going in the wrong direction.

Caroline came back in, and without saying a word again, she held me in her arms while I continued to mourn the loss of the man I loved most of my life and the child we created.

The weeks that followed led me down a different road. One where I moved in with Caroline, who is still my best friend. The woman is a sister to me. I don’t think anyone knows me better than she does. Not that I have many friends to choose from. I tend to work a little too hard to try and make time for friends.

I threw away my phone, walked away from the other half of my soul and I’ve been living half of a life since. I wasn’t about to have him give up on his dream. I switched my major and enrolled in Loyola, where I unexpectedly decided to become a lawyer and vowed to never rely on anyone except myself again.

Caroline and I were both sick of the cold winters by the time we finished school. So, I applied to every firm on the west coast I could find. I had prayed I would intern in Los Angeles, where Caroline had already been placed to do her residency. With a stroke of luck and hours of proving I wasn’t a minnow in the shark pool waiting to be swallowed up, Clark & Associates hired me. I’ve been working between LA and their San Diego office ever since.

“Ms. Reynolds, did you hear me?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Your Honor,” I stutter, trying to shake the ghosts that are sticking to me like glue away. I peer up to meet his sad yet disapproving eyes.

“Your client is free to go provided he doesn’t leave the county, and the court, along with the district attorney’s office, will take into consideration your plea and contact you. I would like to advise both you and Mr. Nixon to stay clear of the press for a while.” I sigh in relief. I need to get the hell out of here before I crack.

“We certainly will. Thank you, Your Honor.” We rise. Roman nor I have spoken one word to each other since I last saw him sitting in jail. A place where he does not belong. The only thing he’s done was wince when I admitted the woman he was defending was me.

I’m not sure what to even say at this point. I drove up here in a rush last night after agreeing to do this. I haven’t slept at all. Now that it’s over, I would like to go back home and drink myself into a coma.

“Thank you for helping me. Can we go somewhere and talk, please?” Oh, God. I can’t do this right now or do I?

I’m not sure how long I stand next to him with the thought I may never see him again pounding for me to open the door to my chest so he can jump in and take over. I know it's long enough for everyone but Marcus to wander out of here and leave us alone. It doesn’t matter that we are in a public courtroom. All I want to do is throw myself into his arms and finally allow him to ease the voided ache inside of me that’s been there since the day he left.

There really isn't any reason for me to stay though, is there. Many miles and years have separated us. Fear sits there like a fuming sphere thrusting me toward an anxiety attack. I won’t let it win, nor will I give in to the craving to have him hold me.

It took me a long time to become the strong woman I am. I might be in the spotlight in court, but to have the entire world look at me now is enough to make me throw up.

“No, we can’t. There isn’t anything to talk about, Roman. I’ve done my job. Consider it pro bono. I’ll contact Marcus once I hear from the courts. I’m almost positive the charges will be dropped. Just please stay away from those sons of bitches like you were asked.” I shuffle the few notes I jotted down into my briefcase, turn on my heels, and halt. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. None of it. It was mine. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry, Roman. Sorry for everything.” There’s a quiver in my voice. If I don’t walk away now, I’ll never get out of here. I shuffle forward, latch my hand around the door only to feel the heat coming from him directly behind me.

“Don’t do this, Joslyn. For one, you need to let Marcus lead you out of here. Two, I really wish we could go somewhere to talk. Three, please tell me you are not married?” he murmurs. His hands are caging me in as the front of his body presses up against my back. I glance at Marcus, who has his back to us, his phone to his ear. Nice. The man is probably used to seeing shit like this from his clients.

“Quit saying my name like that. Why do you care if I’m married or not?” The way he says my name as if he wants to bury himself inside of me sends a sharp pang to my core. I try to push him off me. Totally the wrong thing to do. Roman is hard everywhere. I feel his erection for a brief second before I’m spun around to face him. His eyes drift from my mouth to my neck to my chest and back up to catch me in his web. This man has me whimpering inside, and quite frankly, that scares me. There’s so much bottled up in there I’m ready to combust.

“I can’t stop saying it. I’ve kept Joslyn Reynolds locked away in my mind for years. I searched for you. Did you know that? You and me, we have unfinished business to talk about. You are not leaving. Do you get me? Answer the question. Are you married?” I scoff. I should lie and tell him yes.

“No, I’m not. And yes, Roman. I knew you would search for me. I’m sorry. God, help me I am.” His eyes flare. If my arms weren’t locked down tight at my sides, I’d throw out an uppercut and knock him on his ass the same way he did to the bastard who started my spiral back to Hell again.

Both of our gazes drop when his hand slides up the inside of my bare thigh. His touch ignites a flame that’s been snuffed out for a long, long time. I do everything in my power to overturn the trembling at the bolt of electricity that strikes my core and makes me wet. His need is much more noticeable than mine, but if I allow him to inch any higher, it won’t be. I’ll be soaking the barely-there thong I‘m wearing.

His touch is so damn potent to my soul. I cannot deny it feels good, not even to myself. I slide my eyes back up his firm body; his chest is heaving as much as mine. He looks so darn good it’s making my eyes hurt. I feel myself weakening everywhere.

“I swear to God, if this place didn’t have cameras, I’d turn you over my knee and spank your ass until it’s as red as your dress. Don’t you ever apologize to me again for something that you had no control over. I was in shock. I said the wrong thing, and I’ve lived with those words burning a hole in my gut for too long. Now, tell me this. Are you going to deny the chemistry floating in the air between us? I can hear it ready to crack. I can smell it filling the air. You can run back home. Just remember I’m coming for you this time, and when I do, you better be prepared. The way I see things is, the love we shared has always been strong enough to make me not forget a thing when it comes to you. It’s unstoppable. Fate brought you to me. I hated her until you walked back into my life today. I’ll be fucking damned if I’m not grabbing hold of what’s been given to me. I’m sorry you lost our, baby. I’m sorry for the pain these couple of days have caused you. What I won’t apologize for is wanting you so bad my dick aches. It’s going to happen. I’m going to fuck you like you used to want me to. I’m going to make you come until you see the moon, the stars, and the sun. Welcome to my team, Miss Reynolds. You’ve just become my full-time attorney, and I’m not taking no from you for an answer ever again.”