Trinity

“Emily, you know Glinda, right?”

I’m not clear on the details, but Chase’s soccer team has made it to a final of some kind, which means Emily has to actually attend or risk looking like a terrible mother. I assumed she’d know the other moms, but it turns out she’s never actually come to any of the games.

I’m starting to conclude that Emily needs parenting classes, or at minimum, a good kick in her Pilates-formed tush. When she does step up, it’s only in Ari’s direction. I told her that Brian would probably be here and it would look better from a custody standpoint if she made an effort.

As I wasn’t entirely sure that Emily would show, I asked Gideon and Pete to make an appearance. Their interracial gay-hipster-geek coupledom has Lucas’s Birds in ecstatic fits. There’s a lot of touching of Gideon’s beard and questions about the gorgeous children they have yet to breed. Max, Charlie, and Grant are also here to support Lucas—too sweet—so we’re quite a merry bunch on the sidelines.

I unfold my collapsible chair like a Jason Momoa GIF and settle in. Glinda passes around the wine and we all get ready to cheer for the boys (I’m including Lucas’s lovely ass cheeks in this collective).

I point out a suitably mortified Chase to Ari. “Wave to your brother, honey.”

“I’m bored!”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to be bored for a bit,” I tell her. “This is Chase’s day.”

“Emily, I’m bored. I want ice cream.” That’s right, this five-year-old calls her mother by her first name. When she makes a move for her mother’s plastic wineglass, Emily deftly deflects and produces some candy item guaranteed to rot Ari’s teeth before the age of seven. We do what we must for a moment’s peace.

The game starts with Lucas in fine coaching form, screaming encouragement that’s its own weird language. “In you go, Macker, take it wide!”

A tall, gangly kid (Macker, I assume) does as he’s told and sets the ball up for Chase—who scores! We all stand and cheer, except for Emily, who doesn’t realize what happened. “Was that a goal?”

“Too bloody right it was,” I say in my terrible British accent, which makes Glinda laugh.

“You’re so getting some tonight, Lucas!” She turns to me. “Too presumptuous?”

“Not at all. And oh yes, he is.”

I catch Lucas’s eye and blow him a kiss. He falls over—literally—while catching it. Such a goof.

I know we have a lot going against us, but we have so much more going for us. He wants to take care of me. He wants to bring fun and joy into my life. And he treats me like a queen, like I deserve nothing but the best. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that until Lucas showed me.

I hope I fill gaps for him.

The game continues with a few inspired streaks of play from both sides. By the time the first half is over, the teams are locked in a 1–1 draw. Which is when Brian shows up with Freja.

Freja is Danish, blond, as skinny as my pinkie finger, and towers over everyone in admittedly gorgeous pink heels. Did I mention that she used to be the au pair? For all I know she still fulfills this duty for Brian—he’s always been the kind of guy who needs his ass wiped. I question the wisdom of Brian’s decision to bring his side piece, as it can only embarrass Chase.

In case you haven’t realized it yet, my brother-in-law is a grade A tool.

Emily looks up on seeing him arrive and thrusts a plastic glass of Franzia in his direction. A couple of drops land on Brian’s shirt. “Are you kidding?” Ems blurts out.

Ari spots Freja and yells, “Mommy!”

Oh dear.

“Ems, it’s okay,” I soothe, patting my sister’s arm. “Let’s go talk to Chase,” but my nephew is already walking over.

“Great game, Whiskey Chaser!” I sound too cheerful because I don’t want him to be hurt. He nods at his dad, then says hi to Freja. The boy grows up right before my eyes.

Pity his mom can’t operate on similar maturity levels. Emily hisses at her soon-to-be ex husband, “You’re late, a-hole.”

Brian and Freja share a look that says We’re late because we were having sex.

“Your son’s playing an important game, Brian, and—”

“It’s not that important, Mom.”

Emily ignores Chase. “And you couldn’t be bothered. What the hell are you going to do if you have sole custody, Brian? If you can’t even get out of your whore’s bed—”

“Whoa!” Just before I can intervene, Lucas is on hand. I’ve never been so glad to see his handsome face. “Let’s take a time out here. Brian and Freja, maybe you guys would like to join me at the bench. You can cheer from there. Chase, mate, go hydrate and get ready for the second half. You’re playing a blinder so far and I need you to be at your best. And Glinda, a little less generous with the pours, okay?”

Glinda adds more to her glass in defiance. “You’ve always looked better from the back, Lucas. Off you go and show us those lovely hot cross buns!”

Everyone laughs, save Brian, and the situation is instantly defused.

I mouth thank you at Lucas, bask in the warmth of his smile, then do a pirouette with my fingers indicating he needs to do as Glinda told him.

“Come on,” Lucas says to Chase, who turns with him. Lucas walks away with his hand on my nephew’s shoulder, displaying more class than the rest of us put together.

“Verra, verra nice,” Glinda says.

I laugh again, feeling happy and lusty, but catch Brian glaring at me, trying to dim my sun. I give him a salute. “All right there, Brian?”

“Fine,” he says gruffly, then steers Freja—and her heels—across the field to the other side.

Lucas

We win the game 3–2.

Bloody shocking, actually. I’d already booked the Oven Grinder’s back room because I was determined we’d celebrate, win or lose. The presence of both of Chase’s parents complicates things, but it’s imperative that they learn to be in the same space together in a civil manner. Pizza and beer can only help.

Today I’m not a lawyer. I’m just a guy falling down the rabbit hole of Trinity. These people are important to her, so I’m going to have to make an effort to be there for her. I’m only now starting to figure out that the easiest way to do this would be to remove myself as Brian’s lawyer. I probably should have done it the minute Trinity Jones walked into my office, but I thought I could handle it. Where Trinity’s concerned, I can’t handle shit.

Over pizza, Trinity is being an amazing aunt, playing buffer between Chase’s parents and keeping the peace with Chase and Ari. The love she has for her family is such a clear, bright thing. I hope one day to be part of her circle, to be worthy of her love.

“Good game,” I hear at my shoulder. Brian stands there, a beer in his hand, offering it to me.

I take it, already wondering about the catch. With guys like Brian, no exchange is ever straightforward. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t expect the little buggers to win but they managed to surprise us all.”

He grunts. Sniffs. All we’re missing is a good ball scratch.

“How are things with Trinity?”

“Good,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Taking it slow.”

“Really? I assumed you’d be banging like bunnies once I gave you the go-ahead.”

I grip the bottle of beer hard. This fucker needs to be very careful about what comes out of his mouth next. He stays silent, which I imagine must be killing him. I’m getting bored, so I decide to move it along.

“Brian, what’s on your mind?”

“Just curious if you’ve found out anything.”

“About?”

“Emily. From Trinity. Anything I can use.” He takes a cigar out of his pocket and sniffs it. “I mean, Trinity’s got a mouth on her, so I expect she can’t shut up about how much she hates me. Women who shoot off like that usually reveal things they shouldn’t.”

“What, like where Emily has stashed the millions she’s been siphoning off the grocery budget?”

“Ha ha,” he says without humor. “I expected this would help our case.”

“Me with Trinity? No, mate, that’s not how it’s going to work. That’s completely separate from you and me.”

He looks like he wants to throw a tantrum. Am I going to have to baby him through this?

“Now I know you two don’t get along, so I don’t need to hear you disrespecting her. In fact—”

“Chase looks up to you.”

The abrupt change of topic tinged with accusation throws me, so much so that I soften slightly. Divorce is hard on everyone, especially on the people who are most in the wrong. “Well, it’s easier to be a coach than a dad.”

“I’ve been trying. Man, you know I have. He’s never shown much interest in anything, but he did well out there.”

I wince. “Even if he hadn’t done well, he’s still your son, Brian. You need to figure out a way to connect to him.”

“I know that! But you see how she is. Making me look bad. And drinking in front of the kids in a public park. That’s not legal, is it?”

Probably not, but I’ve no intention of playing the Boxed Wine Police. Emily and Brian need to be better than this. Neither of them is a saint. “The moms like to make a day of it. It’s not really actionable behavior for a custody agreement, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What is? You’re doing shit for my case.”

This is perfect. We can part ways, I can recommend another lawyer, and I don’t have to feel guilty about it. But of course, the prick gets the jump on me. “Gotta take a leak. Hold my beer.”

With Brian out of my hair, a low chuckle snags my attention. Grant stands at my shoulder, his eyes gleaming in amusement.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“You. This.” He waves around the restaurant. “How is this not the definition of a conflict?”

“Got the waiver, didn’t I?” And I’m about to wave bye-bye to Brian.

“Yeah, you’re dick deep in this girl’s life. This what you want?”

“Yes, it is.”

Grant thinks about it for a while. That’s his MO: tortured deliberation before pronouncing judgment. Just when I think he might have fallen asleep with his eyes open, he speaks.

“I get the impression you have unfinished business from before. Business that prevents you from fully committing to your life here.”

That’s…astute. My partners know I make regular trips back to the UK even if they don’t know the reason. I think of Lizzie, rotting away in that bed, her muscles atrophying, her mind a whirligig. She keeps me tied to the Lucas of before. I don’t want to lose her, but I wouldn’t mind losing him. Sad Lucas. Mad Lucas.

But now that I’ve confided in Trinity, the burden might rest easier while she helps me shoulder it. Perhaps I could persuade her to move to the UK with me, drink whiskey at the point of origin, help assuage my guilt at spending so much time on the run from my previous life.

“It’s hard to let go,” I say.

“True.”

Sensing an opening, I figure now’s my chance. “What happened with Aubrey?”

For a moment I think he won’t answer. “She let go before I did. She had to, to keep her sanity.”

More riddles. I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I will lock these two in a room and make them fight, fuck, and forgive.

“And what about you?”

“Still glued to the fucking life preserver.”

I laugh, because Grant rarely swears and his gallows humor sounds strange on his lips. “How’s Callie-Kelly?”

“She’s not Aubrey.”

Well doesn’t that just say it all?

Grant’s frowning up a storm, so I place a hand on his arm, ready to offer the same shoulder I offered to Aubrey. “Listen, if ever you need an ear—”

Grant cuts me off with a jerk of his chin over my shoulder. “I think that conflict of interest waiver is about to be sorely tested, Wright.”

Leaning against the wooden pillar near the bar, we have the corridor leading to the restrooms in our sight line. Now I know Trinity can handle herself, but I do not like how Brian has her cornered in that small space.

“Here, hold my beer.” I shove my bottle into Grant’s hand. “And my client’s beer.”

“Don’t hit him,” Grant says lazily, in a way that sounds like I need to definitely keep that option open.

As I approach, I bear witness to this sleazy gem slip from Brian’s mouth: “I still feel the spark between us, baby, don’t you?”

To which Trinity replies: “I feel something, Brian, but it’s more like nausea.”

“All right there, love?”

She slides past Brian and grasps my hand. Her eyes flicker with nerves, like she’s worried I might have misinterpreted what just happened.

I make it clear I did not. “What the hell are you playing at, Brian?”

“This is between me and Trinity—”

“Oh, there is no me and Trinity,” she says. “You thundering wanker!”

I smile at my woman. “Nice.”

“Been learning your lingo.”

I step in and poke a finger in Brian’s chest. “You make it very hard to root for you, Brian. How about you spend some time with your kids instead of hitting on your wife’s sister? Who clearly hates your guts, by the way.”

“Ever wonder why that is?”

True, I’ve been curious about Trinity’s antipathy toward Brian for quite a while now. His question is sly and sends a shiver of dread down my spine. I need to know.

“Enlighten me.”

Brian flicks a look at Trinity, then back to me. “We used to date. She took me home to meet her sister and, well, the rest is history.”

My heart pounds, blood rocketing through my veins at the thought of this piece of shit even touching my Trinity. Because that’s how I see her. That’s how I’ve always seen her.

But today I’m seeing someone else. Someone with a secret.

Her face is an unpicked lock, raw and twisted with pain.

“Nothing all that serious,” Brian continues, oblivious to Trinity’s discomfort or more likely acutely aware of it. “College stuff, and then Emily came along and I knew.” He looks wistful, maybe even a little regretful that it’s come to this.

Shouldn’t have slept with the nanny, you old cliché you.

“Ever since, Trinity’s held a grudge. Never lets Emily forget what I did. Reminds her that I’m fickle, right, Trin?”

Trinity looks like she’s been slapped. She hasn’t said a word in her defense, not that she needs to defend herself, but her usual spirit and defiance has left her.

“Dad?”

Chase stands in the corridor, his expression a storm. I can’t be sure how much he heard, but whatever it is, it’s enough. The kid shakes his head, like he expected nothing less.

“Chase,” Trinity calls out, her first verbal response to what just occurred, but he’s already gone back into the restaurant’s dining room.

“Brian, I think you need to get your house in order,” I say, fighting to control my emotions. Why didn’t she tell me? “Also, we both know this can’t go on.”

Of course I’m not quick enough. Brian snaps, “Too right it can’t. You’re fired.”

He pushes past me in a bluster. At the entrance to the restaurant, Grant holds out Brian’s beer, but the idiot just knocks it out of his hand. The crash of glass to the floor and the resultant beer trickle is the appropriate coda to what just occurred here.

I turn back to Trinity, the words that usually come easy to me locked in my throat. While I wait for an explanation, I line up the facts:

1. She resisted me because I was—am—the enemy, and when she gave in she freaked out at the news Brian had given his blessing.

2. This would have been the ideal opportunity to tell me why Brian’s waiver bothered her so much. She chose not to reveal this vital information.

3. She also chose not to tell her sister about us. Admittedly it was early days, so I gave her a pass.

4. After everything I confided in her—after I asked her to come to bloody London with me and meet my sister—she still didn’t fess up.

One thing you should know about lawyers is that they hate being the last person to know. That goes double for guys who’ve fallen in love.

Her first words on the topic are: “I promise I was going to tell you.”

“Like you were going to tell your sister about us?”

She flinches. I hate it, but my hurt is a raw and raging beast. “For fuck’s sake, Trinity, I looked like a right wanker when he dropped it on me. And he took great pleasure in it.”

“So this is all about you and your butt-hurt feelings?”

No, she doesn’t get to do that. “He blindsided me. And now I understand why you have such a problem with him.”

“Because he hurt my sister. Is still hurting my sister.”

“Is that all?”

The words hang between us, their meaning sharp and ugly. Deep down, I know why she didn’t tell me about Brian—because it hurt her and you don’t tell strangers your hurts. I’m still a stranger to her, clearly not worthy of this reveal.

“You think I have feelings for Brian?”

“Oh, I know you have feelings for Brian. I’m just trying to figure out the exact nature of them.”

“This isn’t a good time. I can’t—not now. I need to see if Chase is okay.” She tries to step around me.

“Really? We’re not going to talk about this?”

“You don’t want to talk. You just want to accuse. You just want to look down on me from your high horse and tell me what I must think of Brian. I’m either in love with him or I hate his guts or maybe I want him now that Emily’s divorcing him or perhaps I want to see him get his just desserts for dumping me for my sister.”

“Well, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

He broke her heart and now I’m doing it again. Not ready to die on this hill, I reach for her.

“You don’t get to comfort me, Lucas. Not after you hurled your accusations.”

She pushes past me, and right past Max and Grant, who are standing at the end of the corridor. Bloody perfect.

“Enjoy that, did you?”

Max winces at my snapped query while Grant raises an expressive eyebrow. “Reckon we don’t need to tell you that you made a pig’s ear of that, Wright,” my southern friend drawls.

No, they do not.