“Mrs. —Webb?” The granite-faced judge swallowed the final consonant sound as if to proclaim his name unworthy of full enunciation. Within the space of a single breath, her features brightened, her voice softened, and her ramrod-straight posture relaxed as she addressed Stephanie. “I’m so sorry we missed Smitty’s funeral. We tried to switch our flight, but there weren’t any seats. And now you’re here...” Banner let out a short huff. “Sweetheart, what have you done this time?”
Sweetheart? This time? He battled the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. What kind of relationship did Stephanie have with the bane of his existence? And Tobin, the judge’s nephew. Tobin, Stephanie’s lawyer. Pieces started snapping together. Damn, it was more of a thunk than a snap. It shouldn’t surprise him that all these wealthy people were tight, but how tight?
Ethan let go of Quinn’s arm and stepped back, his hands in the air as if waiting to be arrested. He sat next to Stephanie.
“Sorry, Aunt... Your Honor. Sorry Step... Mrs. Webb.” Quinn glared at Ethan before dropping into his seat.
Judge Banner nodded, her smile growing. “Apology accepted. Now sit down and behave like the gentleman you were raised to be.”
Her smile vanished as she turned to Ethan. “It’s you, Mr. Webb, I’ll hold in contempt because you’re the one who should have known better. It’s precisely behavior like we’ve just witnessed that makes me reluctant to put this sweet, innocent child under your care.”
Great. The blond berserker drops a couple of f-bombs, and I’m in contempt.
It was middle school all over again. The cool kids were ganging up on the foster kids. The ones wearing ratty clothes and eating free lunches. And he had reacted like that middle school outcast, with brute force, and gotten the same disastrous results.
It was time to eat crow. Was that free? Hardly. There really was no such thing as a free lunch.
“Your Honor, my apologies. My behavior was inexcusable, but it’s not my norm. I sincerely and contritely ask your forgiveness.”
Stephanie’s free hand covered his with a gentle squeeze. A simple thing, but it encouraged him. “In the past seven days, Pete was born, his father was killed, and my sister has taken a vacation from reality. You gave me forty-eight hours to get married to redeem my nephew from foster care. You knew I’d have to travel to meet your deadline. In all that time, I’ve had about two nights’ worth of sleep, most of it on airplanes. I’ve done everything you asked, all for his sake.” He handed the judge a file.
The judge accepted the file and leafed through it. “Including marrying my sorority sister’s daughter. At least you bought her a decent ring.”
Decent? He’d hate to see Banner’s idea of an exceptional ring. Stephanie would need a sling to support her arm if the ring was any bigger.
She looked up from the file to smile at Stephanie. “These are beautiful pictures, my dear. Green has always been a good color for you.” She pulled her glasses off, her gaze suddenly hard. “Tell me truthfully, child, has this marriage been consummated?”
CHAPTER 27
THE HEAT OF A BLUSH covered Stephanie’s face in record time. Discussing sex was a surefire way to turn her back into a tongue-tied teenager. Especially in front of the Tobin boys who loved to torment her, alternately taunting her for her lackluster love life then threatening to pummel anyone who dared touch her.
But the look on Quinn’s face baffled her. His usual arrogant smirk was absent, replaced by what could almost be described as a mixture of sadness, anger, and jealousy. That couldn’t be right. All those glorious orgasms must have affected her vision.
“Speak up, child. You know I can always tell if you’re being truthful,” the judge prodded.
Leave it to Aunt Sandy to ask her if she was lying without using the word lying. “Yes, Aunt Sandy, the marriage has been consummated. Several glorious times,” Stephanie responded with a deep sigh.
“For crying out loud, Steppie, a simple yes or no would have been sufficient,” Quinn fairly whimpered.
The judge grimaced. “I’m going to have to agree with Quinn on that.”
Her smile faded as she turned to Ethan. “Tell me, how long have you been committing adultery with my niece?”
Of course, Aunt Sandy would blame Ethan. In her eyes, Stephanie could do no wrong.
Ethan pulled Stephanie’s hand to his lips for a tender kiss that raced through her like an electric current. His focus shifted to her face. He peered deeply into her eyes, his lips quirking up in a soft half-smile. “I said she was my girlfriend. I never said we were lovers. I knew she was married, and that’s a line I would never cross. Smitty had all but abandoned her. We were both... lonely workaholics, and there are chatrooms for that. I’d seen her profile picture, but I only knew her by her initials and birthdate. SK1031.”
Stephanie listened in awe as Ethan spun a tale for the judge better than any romance novel she had ever read. The surprise recognition at Smitty’s gravesite. The frenzied weekend of emails and texts that never happened. The skill and ease with which he created his fantasy both enthralled and frightened her.
Fantasy was such a pretty label for lies. Plainly put, Ethan was lying. To a judge. Would she ever be able to trust him to tell her the truth?
Yes, he was a good liar, but wasn’t this whole marriage one big fantasy? One big lie? Wasn’t her sin worse? She wasn’t lying to a judge. Stephanie was lying to a woman who had loved her from the moment Rosemary Kerrigan had announced her pregnancy. To Stephanie, it was almost as if she was lying to her own mother. Hopefully, Aunt Sandy would be oblivious to this lie.
She cleared her throat. “I think she gets the idea, babe.” The word babe slipped from her lips as easily as Ethan’s lies had slipped from his. Great. After a single night of passion, she was soaking up his deceptive ways like a sponge. What was next, law school? God forbid.
The judge’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, I get the idea. You can skip the gory details.” She grabbed the leather-bound calendar from her desk drawer and leafed through it. “It seems your aunt Deb and I have another wedding to plan. Are you Catholic, Mr. Webb?”
Panic flashed across Ethan’s face that matched the terror rocketing through her. He coughed. Was he buying time to fabricate a believable response? “Yes, Your Honor, I am. I can provide my priest’s contact information if you’d like. He’ll tell you I attend mass regularly.”
Could that be true? Was that sculpture behind his desk truly a crucifix? Her thoughts ricocheted off each other, expanding exponentially, rivaling anything the Big Bang might have produced. A divorce from a civil wedding wouldn’t be a problem if she ever wanted to get married again, but another church wedding? That would require an annulment: a lengthy, public process. So much for keeping this whole thing under wraps.
Stephanie’s stomach churned. What would announcing their wedding do to her professional reputation? Would Walter and his minions spin this to her disadvantage? Of course, they would; the only real question was how swift and brutal they would be. Something told her extremely wasn’t a strong enough adverb.
“Aunt Sandy, we need to keep this under wraps. I could lose everything if my board of directors finds out.” She turned to Quinn. “I know I’m not your favorite person, but if I’ve ever meant anything to you, help me keep this quiet.”
Quinn looked down at his sketch pad and continued to draw. “Am I ever going to get out of the doghouse? It was more than ten years ago.”
“Eleven years day after tomorrow. And you can come out of the doghouse as soon as you apologize, which you never have.”
Quinn continued to sketch without saying a word.
“God, you’re such an ass, but if you bury this story for me, I’ll consider us square.”
“You know I love you, Steppie, but I can’t bury this. I won’t get two steps out of here before the other reporters swarm me. I have to give them what they want, or they’ll start digging on their own, and trust me, you don’t want that. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
&nbs
p; “He’s right,” Aunt Sandy admitted. “There’s no way to keep this out of the media. We need to circle the wagons and present a united front. Bengtsen and his ragtag crew will have to battle all of us if they want to go after you.”
Circle the wagons. As political as her aunt was, correctness had never entered the conversation. Stephanie took comfort knowing the people who loved her would protect her. Would Ethan? Not that he loved her, but he would protect her. She hoped.
Aunt Sandy turned to Ethan. “Get your priest on the line; I’ll talk to him now.”
Wow, talk about whiplash. Was Aunt Sandy late for a date or something?
Somewhere in the background, Ethan’s deep voice rumbled, then Aunt Sandy’s higher notes dominated. Words swirled around her without penetrating the web of her thoughts. She groaned inwardly at her unintentional pun. Web. Webb. She could feel the delicate strands of their lies binding her tighter and tighter to the man she had only planned to spend a few weeks with.
Judge Banner handed Ethan’s phone back to him. Sunlight flashed off the silver case, pulling Stephanie back to reality.
“So, Mr. Webb...” the judge started.
Ethan held up his hand to stop her. “You might as well call me Ethan, Aunt Sandy. Since we’re family and all. Plus, you know my biggest secret.”
Secret? Her ears perked up.
“Very well, Ethan,” Aunt Sandy sighed. “You founded Foster Buddies? I’ve been in Family Court more than thirty years. I signed Foster Buddies’ incorporation papers. How did I not know you were behind it?”
Ethan shifted uneasily in his chair, his handsome features more like a petty criminal caught stealing an old woman’s Social Security check than the magnanimous benefactor he apparently was. “For obvious reasons, I didn’t want my name associated with the charity. My infamy might have discouraged donations. Some of my courtroom adversaries might have seen it as a sign of weakness. That’s why all of the paperwork is in my sister’s name. Like I told you at the hospital, we grew up in the system, and it’s no place for kids.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. Now that you know I’m not the monster I’ve let the world think I am, can I please at least hold my nephew?”
CHAPTER 28
THE JUDGE GLANCED FROM him to Stephanie, then stood reluctantly to transfer the baby into his trembling arms. “Hold steady or you’ll drop him,” she admonished as she stroked Pete’s head.
Who was this woman gazing at Pete like he was a precious gem? It was almost as if she had become human. She spoke in a low, melodious voice Ethan never would have believed possible. She looked up at him with soft, shiny eyes. “In all the years you’ve been terrorizing my court, I’ve never seen you anything less than one hundred percent confident and sure of yourself. Right now, you look like you might throw up.”
He pulled the baby closer and took a deep breath to draw in Pete’s essence. Peace washed over him. “Perceptive, as usual, Your Honor. How did you get him to stop crying?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “It’s refreshing to hear you admit you don’t have all the answers. While it’s impossible for him to be allergic to breastmilk, it’s not unheard of for him to be allergic to something his mother ate that came through her milk. Dairy is a big culprit. Once we switched him to soy formula, he was fine. The poor little guy was in pain.”
Ethan chortled. “Megan practically lived on Stillman’s Blue Moon ice cream the last few weeks of her pregnancy. I teased her that the baby would come out looking like a Smurf.” He planted a soft kiss on the baby’s head. “I’m sorry, champ. We didn’t know. I promise you I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”
The judge placed her hand on his arm. “I wasn’t so sure at first, but now I’m confident you’ll take good care of him.”
Ethan allowed himself to be lulled by her tender words. For about half a second, until her face hardened, and her voice raked over his nerves. “Before you walked in here with Stephanie, I was planning to jerk your chain so hard you’d need a cervical collar for the rest of your life. But I’ve never been able to deny her anything. I know how much she’s always wanted a baby; however, make no mistake: I am not thrilled that she’s chosen you. Take care of your precious nephew and my precious niece. I’ve been known to drop by unannounced from time to time, so make sure you’ve stocked up on rooibos tea.”
Her message was clear; she would be checking up on him and expected to be treated like a guest. He could do that.
She continued, “Nine a.m. mass at Our Lady of Sorrows.”
Our Lady of Sorrows? Was she kidding? That jewel-encrusted, marble-and-gold drenched mausoleum? Where the closest thing to the Gospels was the over-abundance of Christian Dior from Neiman Marcus? Would that church welcome him with open arms the way St. Al’s had? Ethan doubted it. But more than likely, they wouldn’t welcome Jesus either.
So much for keeping the marriage a secret. He could handle it; he was used to notoriety, but what would this do to Stephanie?
“And brunch at the club every Sunday after mass. Bring the baby,” Aunt Sandy said.
Brunch at the club? Just kill me now. There were bound to be people there, women, he had successfully avoided for years.
But if that was her price for Pete, he’d man up pay it. He nodded.
“One more thing,” she raised herself up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “and this is vital. You make her shed one tear, and you will wish you had never met her—or me. Do you understand me, Mister Webb?”
Ethan understood all too well. Once again, he was under a wealthy woman’s thumb, expected to dance to her tune. At least this one would keep her clothes on—he hoped. The image of Aunt Sandy naked threatened to render him impotent for life. He glared down at the judge. “Yes, Your Honor, I understand completely.”
Stephanie leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And by rooibos tea, she means Chivas Regal. Don’t worry, there are a few bottles left in the case Daddy bought before he died. She can soak it up, but it should last a few months.”
So sober as a judge didn’t apply to Aunt Sandy. Good to know.
Stephanie laid her head on his shoulder, resting one hand on his hip and tickling Pete under his chin with the other. She leaned in to kiss the top of the baby’s head. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s take our nephew home.”
BY THE TIME THEY’D stopped off at his house to pack a few things, grabbed lunch, and picked up his car from the dealership, it was nearly three o’clock. He followed Stephanie past the wrought iron gate but had to stop halfway up the driveway. Four huge trucks crammed the circular drive in front of her massive front door. A tall, blond man stood between an older woman and Judge Banner, his arms spread, and his fingers splayed as if he was holding them apart. Which he probably was.
“Everything else in the house is dark cherry. The nursery furniture should match.” The judge, looking anything but judicial, shoved an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
“He’s a bay-bee. He will not care if his furniture matches the shit old man Kerrigan acquired when he married Carolyn Jordan fifty fucking years ago. But he will love the blue train forever. Tell her, Riley. You loved your blue train, right?”
The poor guy looked like he was ready to ride that train, in the immortal words of Journey, going anywhere. Anywhere but here. “Of course, I loved it, Mom. We all loved Boo Boo Choo Choo. But Steppie asked Aunt Sandy to take care of the nursery furniture. You were in charge of all of the other things a baby needs like formula and diapers. All the stuff you’re an expert on.”
Nice touch, but Mom wasn’t buying it.
“I did all that and still had the time to scour the internet for local stores with blue train nursery furniture. I had to order from three different stores to get all of the pieces and pull three trucks out of the Clausen Construction yard to pick them up.”
The blond man rolled his eyes. “Uncle Robert is going to skin you alive for that.”
“He can try. I own half the company.” Mo
m was on a roll.
A fifth truck lumbered up the driveway blocking Ethan and Stephanie in.
“And here come all the baby things I’m an expert on, right on cue. I obviously win!” Mom crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the judge.
Judge Banner took a step forward.
“Chill, Aunt Sandy,” the blond man warned.
Ethan decided to leave Pete in the car. “Sweetheart, would you like to introduce me to our, uh, guests?”
Stephanie stuck her pinkies in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.
Ethan scratched the inside of his ear. Apparently, his new wife was a woman of many talents. Three startled heads snapped in their direction.
“Hey, everyone, meet Ethan; Ethan, meet everybody. You know the judge. The other lady is my aunt Deb, and the man in the middle is her son Riley. We like to say nothing riles Riley; he’s the family diplomat. If he can’t keep the peace, we’re doomed.”
The women rushed the car. Ethan held out his hands. “Stop! The baby stays in the car until I’m sure you ladies won’t rip him to shreds.”
“Mr. Webb...” Ethan immediately recognized the judge-voice that had haunted more than a few of his legal nightmares. He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance.
“Aunt Sandy, Ethan and I have decided to live here, so this is his home now. And here, he’s the judge. You can call him Ethan, or you can leave.”
Whoa, his lady had quite a backbone. Sure, Sandy Banner was a long-time family friend, but it took guts to stand up to her. And she was doing it for him. Should he say something in his own defense? No, it would be more interesting to stand back and see where this whole thing was going.
“I can send that baby back into foster care!” Aunt Sandy’s face glowed crimson.
Stephanie removed Pete, car seat and all, and handed him over to her aunt Deb.
Slow tears leaked from Aunt Deb’s eyes. “Don’t forget, Sandy, we were college roommates for three long years. If you try to take this baby away from me...I mean them...and I will open my checkbook, and my mouth, to your opponent the next time you run.”
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 14
