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TWENTY-FIVE
The morning of the trial, Eden was up early. She’d taken extra care with her appearance, choosing her most sedate black pantsuit and a plain white shirt for underneath. Per the DA’s recommendations, she left off most of her jewelry, other than one ring and earrings, and wore minimal makeup. It was, he’d said the day before when she’d met with him, all about looking and sounding competent and genuine for the jury. Having a simple look would help the jury take her seriously—and it would keep them from being distracted from what she had to say.
At the time, in his law offices, she’d felt pretty confident. She had her memories back, had excelled at the mock trial they’d performed with his staff, and looked forward to finally putting Jeff Ross behind bars for good.
But now, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror in her childhood bedroom, she felt uncertain. Not about her testimony—she was solid on that. But she wished Chandler was there by her side to lend his support.
Ugh. After a deep breath, Eden sank down on the edge of her bed and tucked a wayward strand of her sleek bob behind her ear. It was so stupid, really. She shouldn’t need him. Especially now that they weren’t together anymore. Wasn’t she supposed to be strong? Independent? And yet the truth was she missed him something terrible.
And she would see him in about a half an hour, when he picked her up to take her to court. He’d insisted on that.
Her pulse tripped without her consent, and she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
Concentrate on what you have to do today. Remember the points the DA covered with you yesterday. Don’t get distracted. Don’t wish for things with Chandler that won’t ever occur.
The last one was like a knife to the chest, so she pushed it from her head and visualized the courtroom instead. What it would look like, where the defense counsel and Ross would sit, the things they might ask her to trip her up. Because the DA had assured her that Ms. Sanchez would go for the jugular. The only way to get a non-guilty verdict would be to destroy Eden’s credibility.
So, she went over the pointers the DA had given her again, committing them to memory, committing herself once again to giving testimony so clear and on point that no one would be able to doubt her. She owed it to the clerk, to his family, and to the court. Since her memories of that horrific night were back, she had a good chance of convincing the jury, but it wasn’t like she’d ever had a photographic memory. If Sanchez asked about specific details, Eden might not be able to recall every single one. And that was fine. If she still didn’t remember something, just say so. If she tried to guess or hedge her answer, she’d have Sanchez pouncing all over it like a rabid dog, even worse than she’d done in the deposition.
She needed to appear confident, too, which meant she had to relax. Looking like she was facing a firing squad while on the stand would help no one. So, Eden continued her deep breathing and meditation until she heard the doorbell ring downstairs
“Chandler,” her mom’s voice drifted up to Eden, puncturing the calm she was trying so hard to create. “Don’t you look handsome in your suit and tie.”
Oh God. Now her mind was filled with visions of Chandler rocking Armani like some high-fashion cover model. Not helpful at all. As the conversation downstairs continued, Eden finally gave up on being Zen and instead made sure she had what she needed in her bag. Lip balm, phone, wallet with ID, ibuprofen for later, and tissues—in case she lost her shit again. Which, given the stress she was under, was not out of the realm of possibilities.
Finally, she took one last look around her bedroom, said a silent prayer for strength, and headed downstairs to find Chandler and her mom still talking in the foyer.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at her, his hazel gaze guarded and his expression unreadable. He was so good at hiding his feelings that she feared she’d never break through and see the real man beneath his tough façade. Eden had thought she had when they were together, but then he’d shutdown and shut her out again, leaving her to question everything she thought she’d known about him. Now, she had no idea where they stood—and this was definitely not the time to find out. They had bigger fish to fry today. She did her best to hide her feelings, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. Fake it till you make it, big time.
“Hey,” she said to Chandler dismissively before stopping to kiss her mom’s cheek and wave at her dad, who was reading the paper in the kitchen. To her mother, she said, “I’ll be back later. Wish me luck.”
“Always, honey,” her mom said, hugging her.
“Good luck!” her dad called from the kitchen.
She and Chandler walked to his car. The air between them felt packed with tension and awkward as ass. She was sure, based on how he was looking anywhere but at her, that Chandler felt it too.
It was a few minutes later, halfway through their drive, when Chandler finally glanced over at her. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” she said, staring out the windshield “You too.”
“Ready for today?”
“As I’ll ever be.” She didn’t mention how nervous she felt—or how sad. While a part of her was incredibly eager to get through her testimony and foil the Ross brothers once and for all, getting through the trial felt like a definitive end to anything between her and Chandler. After today, after she gave her testimony and put Jeff Ross behind bars for good, whoever was targeting her should leave her alone. If the whole point of the attacks on her was to stop her from testifying, once she did, harming her would no longer accomplish anything. She would be safe.
It also meant Chandler’s protection detail for her would be over. If they finally put an end to all this today, Chandler would walk her out of court, return her home, and then leave her life forever. Maybe they’d still see each other at Adam’s parties or in passing on the street, but any deeper relationship would be over.
Her chest squeezed and her throat tightened. Part of her wanted to turn to Chandler and beg him to hold her, comfort her, say something loving and supportive, even if he didn’t mean it. But no. Reaching out to him now would be pointless. She was already too vulnerable to him as it was.
She’d opened up with him in ways she hadn’t done with anyone in a long, long time. Told him things no one else knew, let herself be free with him. But it all came with a price, and now she was hurting and struggling to regain the independence she’d clung to so desperately for all these years. She’d thought independence was all she needed. That theory would be tested now that it was all she had.
Chandler stayed by her side as they went through security at the courthouse and headed upstairs where the courtroom was located. The day’s proceedings for the trial were scheduled to start in just thirty minutes. People milled about in the hallway while waiting for the doors to open. Eden spotted Ralph Marlow chatting with one of the assistants. She walked over to say hello to the prosecutor.
“Good morning, Ms. Dawson,” Marlow said, shaking her hand. “You look great today. Ready for your testimony?”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “I think so. I went over what you said yesterday in my head again this morning before I came.”
“You’ll be great. Especially now that you have your memory back. No worries at all.” He turned to Chandler, chatting with him about the NBA finals game from the past weekend.
