Page 19 of One Vow

Charged. With a crime. Shit.

“Felicity. They did a horrible thing to you. To these women.” She held up her list and lowered her voice, probably thinking she could use kinship or my empathy to make me talk to her. But she didn’t have to tell me how bad it was. I knew.

I leaned into her close and I saw her eyes grow big, eager for the juicy details. I paused, took a deep breath as if about to let it all out, and said four short words. I looked dead into her eyes with a steely gaze of my own.

“I have no comment.”

And I meant it. Especially when all I really wanted was to find Finn and see if we could figure out a way to work through this without him having to go to jail.

She sighed. “I hope you’re not one of those girls who’s blaming the victims.”

Which, in her opinion, no matter what I thought, I was one of those victims, so that was crazy. “Finn Makenzie and Ryder Kennedy, Jameson King and Keaton Shaw.”

As if she thought I didn’t know of or about the others, she nodded. “Yeah. Those are the other guys going down for this. Those are the names that people are going to remember. We trusted them. And this is our chance to spin the story the way we want it. To tell everyone we were victimized and maybe we can use our experience to help someone else. Someone who doesn’t have a voice.”

Her points were valid, but it was Finn, and my loyalties were divided between what I knew was expected of me as a victim and what I felt not just about Finn, but about what happened. So, I reiterated my point.

“I have no comment.” It was the only safe thing to say. The only thing no one could twist. “And I have to go.”

I turned to walk away, but her words stuck with me. How could I marry Finn knowing what he’d done? How could I not use my voice to tell the world this was wrong?

7

Finn

I’d never met the man responsible for my first attempt at divorce from Felicity until now. He was taller than I imagined. But the horn-rimmed glasses were right on. And the puny frame. Along with the way he blushed and smiled, choked on his tongue whenever Felicity spoke to him.

But I could be a good sport because he’d only been doing his job. I held out my hand. “Marty.”

Felicity chuckled. “That isn’t Marty. Finn, this is Dakota, Marty’s office assistant.” Instead of shaking his hand, she pulled him down for a hug. A hug for fuck’s sake. Like they were tight. Like he’d seen her naked. And I hated him. Unreasonable, but honest.

I curled my fingers, ready to pounce because if the hand at the small of her back moved so much as one millimeter lower, secretary boy was going to eat at least the four front teeth in his goofy-looking face.

When she pulled back, she took a look at me, then moved a step closer to Dakota. She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Why would something be wrong?” Not only had I taken up speed talking, but I went from bass to soprano.

“Because you look like you ate glass and you sound like I’m squeezing your…” She glanced at my crotch. “You know, balls.”

And now, with her talking about anything ball-related, I had an entirely different problem. “I’m fine.”

Fine for a guy who was busy trying to name all the states and capitals in his head rather than concentrating on her smile, or the hand Dakota still had resting on her back.

“Okay.” She smiled and looked up at the soon-to-be-without-a-left-hand jackass still touching her. “Is Marty in?”

Dakota, I couldn’t even think his name without mimicking how Felicity said it, shook his head.

“His daughter went into labor this morning and he said to tell you he needed to reschedule for next week.” He looked at me, still smiling, then frowned, pulled his head back, and turned toward Felicity. “It’s his first grandbaby. They’re very excited.”

“I can’t wait for a week. I’m getting married on Saturday.” The words burned a path from my gut up to my throat and out of my mouth, but since I didn’t have a choice, I had to get this straightened out. Felicity blew out a breath, loud, through a little O made by her pursed lips. “I mean, is there anyone else we can see?”

Dakota looked at me. “Sh-sure. But you’ll have to drive over and see Dan Schilling in Kennebunkport. He’s the guy who used to date Susie Biggelo. You remember?”

He cocked an eyebrow at Felicity. She shook her head, and he shrugged. No big deal?

“Or there’s a guy in York or—or—or,” he pointed and waved his hand, excited and louder, “you know that one, the one in Gorham that Marty likes. But there’s a storm blowing in.”

His tongue clicked against his teeth and he narrowed one eye into a Popeye the Sailor face. “So, you might be better to wait to go anywhere until tomorrow.”