Page 87 of Bound Hearts

Instantly, I sputter a laugh. “You did the baby's laundry?”

He lifts a shoulder and plays it cool. “For you, I would do anything. Can I just say watching videos at 2am on how to fold those onesies was not my finest hour.”

“Hold it.” I set my fingertips on his chest. He watches me while I close my eyes for a few seconds, then open them. “I needed to envision you in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt sitting on the floor, folding.” I leave out the part where I imagine how he must have been in despair last night.

“Did I at least look hot while in turmoil?”

“A little,” I play coy. “Look, we don’t cope with disagreements like normal people,” I highlight.

It’s a long beat of silence as we accept that we’ve spoken, but there is a hole that still needs to heal.

“We should get back to the city. I think we could both use some sleep,” he suggests.

Nodding, I place my hand on my lower back, intent on walking with my body that’s changing by the day. “Please. I could sleep forever, but first we need to stop by the pie stall at the market.”

“Really? We don’t have more pressing matters after the last twenty-four hours?”

“We do. I ordered pies and need to pick them up. Coconut cream.”

He looks at me, impressed. “We just had a fight, and you still ordered my favorite pie?”

“Yeah,” I answer softly. “We’re still trying to find your mom’s recipe, right?”

A renewed affection washes over him.

No matter what we're navigating, I always seem to think of the things that brought us together. Mementos in my head, because those moments remind me how miserable I am without him.

It will be okay.

Waking up, I stretch out my arms and yawn. I got an extra hour of sleep; I’m heading into the office late, due to a doctor’s appointment. Foster deserves credit—he’s given me space this past week. Still, the bed feels empty without him. If we returned to intimacy right away, my emotions and thoughts would be too easily brushed aside. I don’t trust myself right now, and I would allow it.

Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I swipe the alarm off, and after a few blinks of my eyes, I see a notification from my work email. It grabs my attention as it is from Olivia, and the subject is very formal.

For your immediate attention and notification.

Opening the email, I only need two sentences before I cry out a no. The shock hits me so fast that when Foster nearly rips the door off the hinges and bursts in, I’m already in tears.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” His voice is protective, concerned. He rushes to sit beside me. His finger hooks under my chin, lifting my gaze. He searches my eyes for an answer.

"How can it get any worse?" I wail, my voice cracking. Still overwhelmed, I thrust my phone at him, seeking comfort and understanding.

Having Foster read it out makes it even worse.

I am writing to notify you that outside counsel has been obtained. They will conduct an internal review of potential ethical violations within your role. The review has been initiated due to a complaint. Please schedule a meeting so we may discuss further.

Foster’s face mirrors my growing panic. Realizing how serious this is, he immediately wraps me in a tight embrace, doing his best to ground me as I struggle to hold myself together.

26

FOSTER

The movement of the marbles on my Newton’s Cradle gives me a point of focus on while I sit behind my desk, completely unproductive. The last few days have been packed with meetings as we try to find a way to end the investigation. It was an anonymous complaint, so we can’t identify the source. We have doubts if it was Celeste, but Sutton’s inkling is that it’s not her. Hayes and Julian have gone to bat to defuse the situation, and Olivia has her hands tied when it comes to a work matter such as this.

Sutton is miserable, and I’m worried about the toll that stress has taken on her. It all started with my mistake, which will be a lifetime of reflection and guilt. It’s been an avalanche since, and Sutton is pregnant, which only raises the concern to a new peak. We’re sharing a bed again, but I’m not yet confident whether it has to do with us or with her needing comfort about the feeling of career doom and she doesn’t want to be alone. Either way, I’ll watch her sleep all the same.

She’s been allowed to continue to work, but only on very limited contracts. Certainly nothing that comes remotely close to me. Her fear of professional downfall is coming alive.

The slight sound of a knock snaps me out of my daze, and I see Easton enter my office. His tiny smile is full of pity.