Tristan_Intergalactic Dating Agency

by V. Vaughn

  She approaches me with supplies used for a blood draw. “Cassie, I’d like to test your caffeine levels too. The data I collect could be helpful for diagnosing this in the future.”

  I sniff back my tears. “I’m sorry. Of course.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I’m not sure why I’m crying.” Tears are still streaming down my face as I reach for Tristan. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  He comes to my side and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I apologize for getting angry too.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Two weeks ago I was a force in the courtroom, and now I flip flop between crying and yelling.”

  Dr. Carroll smiles at me, and a needle pinches my skin as she inserts it. “Pregnancy hormones can do that.”

  When the doctor is applying a bandage to my arm a nurse comes to the doorway for her, and Dr. Carroll excuses herself. A chair scrapes across the floor as Tristan drags it over so he can sit by my bed. He says, “I know I’ve been short with you lately, and it’s because—”

  “Tristan Nichols,” barks out a man as he and another enter the room, and I immediately recognize them as police officers. I gasp when one holds up a pair of handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for caffeine consumption.”

  “That can’t be,” says Tristan. He stands up. “This is insane.”

  Oh my god. My husband will lie to the police too? He grunts in pain as an officer yanks his hands behind his back and the cuffs click shut. “There has to be a mistake,” says Tristan. “I would never consume caffeine. I work with—”

  Tristan may be stupid enough to be hopped-up on caffeine, and I really want to scream at him for it right now, but he is also the father of my child. I quickly morph into lawyer mode to cut him off. “Stop.” I say. “Tristan. Don’t utter one more word. Not a single one. Got it?”

  My husband looks at me with fear in his eyes, and I get it. Our prison guards fear aliens and treat them harshly. The officer proceeds to read Tristan his rights as my mind races with what to do. When the officer is done I say to Tristan, “I’ll get you counsel. Sit tight and we’ll figure this out.”

  “I’m not consuming caffeine, Cassie. You have to believe me.”

  I nod at him as my eyes fill with tears again. Addiction is a disease, and my husband can’t help himself. But I also know he can get clean, and no matter how pissed off I may be, I still love him. I say, “It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

  The moment Tristan is gone I grab my phone out of my pocket. I have dozens of colleagues I could call, but I only trust one person to do what needs to be done. I call Henry Wyatt.

  “Cassie Nichols, my favorite attorney. I’ve missed you, my dear.”

  “Thanks, Henry. I’ve missed you too. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

  “No. It’s never a bad time for you.”

  I take deep breath. “You might not say so after I tell you why I called.”

  His voice takes on a serious tone. “What is it?”

  “It’s Tristan. The police just took him away for caffeine consumption.”

  “He’s been charged?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s ridiculous. The young man has never touched caffeine.”

  I love that Henry thinks so highly of my husband, and I let out a small noise of pain before I say, “He tested positive, Henry.” Dr. Carroll is listening to my conversation as she waits to speak to me, and she crosses her arms with a scowl on her face as if she thinks I’m defending an abusive man.

  Henry says, “Something’s wrong here. Very wrong. I’m glad you called me, because your husband is going to need the best counsel he can have. Other than you, I believe that’s me.”

  I smile at his ego and his flattery. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

  “Can you meet me at the station?”

  “Yes.” I glance over at the wheelchair sitting in the corner. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Cassie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to worry. I hate to lose.”

  I let out a dry chuckle. “I know. I’ll see you at the station.”

  Once I end my call, Dr. Carroll speaks in a calm manner. “Cassie. I witnessed Tristan’s outburst, and the tests don’t lie. He’s got a problem.”

  I say, “I’m aware of that, doctor.” I’m disappointed in Tristan, and myself, because apparently after all those years of doing my best to avoid it, I married a man similar to my father. I wonder if perhaps that’s the only kind of person I’m capable of loving. It saddens me I may have to relive a version of my childhood, but at least I’m no longer a helpless teen struggling to get by. I take in Dr. Carroll’s judgmental expression and want to smack it off her face. I say, “He’s my husband.”

  “You can get another. My advice to you is to send him back.”

  I stare at her in disbelief. I’ve encountered a fair number of racists in my line of work, but it still surprises me. I say, “Please bring me my paperwork. I’m not staying.”

  Dr. Carroll shakes her head as if I’m a stupid girl. “If you go, understand it’s against medical advice.”

  “I accept full responsibility.” I cock an eyebrow at her the way I do a petulant paralegal, and the doctor glares at me for a moment before she leaves to do as I asked.

  I think about how Tristan reacted when the truth about his addiction came out, and I recall the way my father refused to admit he had a problem until it was too late. I’m going to have to lay down some laws for my husband. He needs to take responsibility for his actions. But before I draw my line in the sand, I need to get him out of jail. I glance up when a nurse walks in with my paperwork and ask, “How much does it cost to rent a wheelchair?”

  Chapter 9

  It’s an odd experience to be sitting in a wheelchair and rolling down the hall of a police station I’ve walked many times in a legal capacity. Not only are people avoiding my gaze because of my apparent disability, but I don’t have the same confidence I used to possess. Because this time it’s my husband behind bars and I can’t do a thing to fight for him. I’m at the mercy of another lawyer. Although, the moment I see Henry’s kind smile, I’m comforted. He gives me hope there still are men who can be trusted.

  “Cassie,” he says as he comes over to me. “They’re ready to question Tristan, but I wanted to talk to you first. What can you tell me?”

  “I think he’s guilty.” I share Tristan’s suspicious behavior over the last two weeks with Henry before he assures me he’s going to get my husband out on bail no matter what it costs. He leaves for the interview, and the wheels of my chair rumble over the tile as I go position myself against the wall to wait. My baby has calmed down now that the small amount of caffeine I consumed has been digested, and I’m grateful at least my child is okay.

  After what feels like hours, Henry comes out with Tristan. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see my husband as my love for him fills me with warmth. I reach my hand out to him, but he ignores it. I say, “I’m so glad you’re out of there. I don’t think I could bear it if you had to stay overnight.”

  Tristan’s expression is hard. “I know.”

  He stands up as Henry says “I’d like to take this to my office. We need to talk.” He nods toward the door. “My car is out front.”

  Henry’s office is the penthouse of one of his apartment buildings, and he takes us up in a private elevator. I’m not the least bit surprised when the doors whoosh open to a modern apartment done in black and white with splashes of red. I leave my wheelchair by the door and get up to walk over to the thick glass wall where I take in the view of the city below. Lights twinkle and flash as billboards play video ads and cars drive by. “Impressive.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Henry asks.

  I shake my head as Tristan says, “No. I’m anxious to hear about what happens next.”

  Henry leads us over to a sitting area and takes a place in a chair while Tristan and I si
t on separate chairs. He says, “Because Tristan hasn’t been violent or displayed extreme irrational behavior, I should have no trouble pleading this down to a misdemeanor. We can probably avoid jail time too.”

  “No,” says Tristan.

  “No?” I ask.

  “I’m not guilty.”

  I close my eyes and sigh as I remember the hundreds of time my father tried to convince me he wasn’t an alcoholic and that he could quit any time, only to be falling down drunk later that night when I got home from work. “Tristan.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “You tested positive. There have been mood swings and—”

  “And the test was wrong.” He glares at me.

  Henry says, “While that’s possible, unfortunately we can’t prove it.”

  “So we plead it down,” I say. I turn to Tristan. “This isn’t a big deal. You’ll go to rehab and we’ll get through this together.”

  Tristan clenches his jaw. “I don’t need rehab, Cassie, because I’m not addicted to caffeine.”

  I throw up my hands. “Fine.” I look at Henry with the hope he can talk some sense into my husband. While I know what a trial entails, I think Tristan needs to hear it from someone other than me. “What happens if we go to trial?”

  “That depends on what we can find for evidence to prove the test is unreliable. I’ll do some digging,” says Henry.

  I frown, because while Henry is being a good lawyer, I don’t think Tristan understands what could really happen if we fight this. I say, “Once the plea is off the table, it’s not going to come back, Tristan. You need to understand that if it can’t be proven the test was wrong, you will go to jail.”

  “I get it,” he says. “But I’m not willing to confess to something I didn’t do.”

  I bite my tongue instead of speaking my mind in front of Henry, and I address the older man. “Thank you for this. You’ll call us as soon as you know anything?”

  “I will.” He stands up. “Go home and rest. The car is waiting for you.”

  Tristan shakes Henry’s hand as we walk to the door. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help.”

  Henry claps him on the shoulder and tugs him into a one-armed hug. “You’ve very welcome. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  My husband and I don’t speak as we go down the elevator and through the lobby. He pushes my wheelchair out into the cool night air, and I lift my face up to the breeze. I wonder how I ended up back in a situation I couldn’t wait to escape when I was growing up. I think about how we’re about to have a baby, and no matter what I do, Tristan is in my life forever. And god help me, I want him to be. At least the Tristan I married. My heart aches with my love for him. And while my logical side is telling me I don’t want to go down the path of life with an addict, I can’t walk away. I have to dig deep and find a way to fight for the man I love.

  The car door clicks open as the driver pulls it, and I get up from the wheelchair. What lies ahead for me seems daunting. But like any overwhelming case I’ve had, I know I need to break it down. One step at a time. I move toward the car, and Tristan and I ride home in silence. It’s not until we’re inside the apartment that we speak.

  I walk over to sit on the couch, and when I get there Tristan places himself across from me. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Tristan.” I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. I know I can’t force him to admit he has a problem until he’s ready, so I say, “It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is that I’m here for you, and we’ll get through this together.”

  “You’re here for me.” He shakes his head and gets up. “Here for me.” He walks over to the window and stares out of it. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing as I wait for him to speak. Tristan turns around to face me. “I need you to be more than the person who is here for me. I need you to believe in me, Cassie. Because if you don’t...” He looks up at the sky and when he returns his gaze to me his expression is pained. “I can’t do this.”

  As he walks toward the bedroom I ask, “What can’t you do?”

  “Us. I’m going to stay at Jake and Hannah’s.”

  I jump to my feet and follow him into the bedroom. “You’re just going to leave?”

  Tristan walks over to take my arms lightly. He leads me to the bed where I sit. His face is clouded with sadness. “I love you more than I ever thought possible, Cassie. But I can’t love enough for both of us.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. I love you too. And I do believe in you, Tristan. Doesn’t the fact I want you to focus on writing your book tell you that? I know you’re going to be an amazing author one day.”

  “Really? That’s why you’re doing it? Because it seems to me that what you love is being the one who makes the money and calls the shots in our marriage.”

  “That’s not true.” He raises an eyebrow, and shame burns in me. I do like being in charge, but I’m also allowing him the freedom to work on his career.

  “Look. I don’t have an ego problem with you being the major breadwinner. But I expect the same respect in return.”

  “I do respect you! I think you’re amazing, Tristan. I brag about you all the time.”

  “That’s true. You like to brag about how you take care of me and how much I love to serve you.

  “I—” I’m not sure how to express my thoughts on his addiction without making him more angry, but I refuse to lie and enable his behavior. “I think you believe you’ll never consume caffeine again.”

  He shakes his head in disgust. “You are such a lawyer.” A drawer scrapes open as he tugs it, and clothing thuds in the bag he has on the floor.

  “Tristan.” He doesn’t stop packing. “Tristan, please!”

  When he glances up at me his eyes are shiny. “I can’t make you believe me, and I can’t be around someone who thinks I’m a liar.” He bends down, and the zipper of his bag hums as he closes it.

  Panic rises in me, and my heart begins to beat faster. I can’t lose him! “You’re just going to walk out of here and leave me and the baby alone?”

  “You don’t need me.”

  “Of course I do!”

  “No, Cassie, you don’t. You need a housekeeper,” says Tristan as he walks out of the bedroom without looking my way.

  Chapter 10

  This can’t be happening. I fall back on the bed, and as I stare up at the ceiling, I flash to my childhood. After years of fighting to help my dad with no results, I stopped trying. When he died a few years after I left, the guilt was crippling. Even though months of therapy helped me see it wasn’t my fault, I’m not going down that road again. I won’t give up on Tristan, no matter how hard he tries to push me away.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Hannah. “Hey. How are you feeling?” she asks when she answers.

  “I’ve been better. I’m calling because Tristan is on his way over to stay with you guys tonight.”

  “No. What happened?”

  “Oh my god, it’s such a mess. We just had a fight. I’m sure he’s going to tell you all about it, but the bottom line is he was arrested for caffeine consumption and is trying to convince me he doesn’t have a problem.”

  “Whoa. Oh, Cassie. This has to be killing you.” Hannah knows about my father, and I think she understands how hard the situation is for me.

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No. I—” I hate that I’m bringing my friend into my troubles, but I feel as if I haven’t got a choice. “Would you keep an eye on Tristan for me?”

  “Sure. But you know we don’t have any caffeine in the house. Not after we discovered what it does to Jake.”

  Before we understood what coffee can do to Eroscians, her husband tried it. It was only once though because it made his energy level reach manic proportions. “I know.” I say. “And that’s a relief.”

  “Oh,” says Hannah. “Tristan’s here. I should go.”

  “Sure. Than
ks.”

  “You got it. We’ll talk later.”

  After I hang up I realize how tired I am, and I get ready for bed. Probably because I’m pregnant and exhausted from my day, I manage to fall asleep quickly and wake up feeling refreshed, even though I’m still worried about Tristan.

  I’m in the kitchen drinking a morning energy shake wondering what my husband is doing when my phone rings. It’s Hannah, and I don’t get a chance to speak when I answer because she says, “Tristan and Jake have been arrested!”

  My heart stops. “What?”

  I hear a car horn honk and the rush of wind in Hannah’s phone speaker makes me think she’s walking outside. “Oh god, Cassie. They’ve both been charged with caffeine consumption. I’m on the way to the station now, but you have to come. I have no idea how I’m going to get them out.”

  Oh my god is right. How the heck did Tristan suck Jake into his problem? “What did they do?”

  “Nothing. Jake said they were walking out of the apartment building together this morning and that police pulled them aside and made them blow into a caffeine breathalyzer.”

  Wow. I’d heard they were beginning to test that device, but I had no idea it was already in the field. My lawyer side immediately thinks we can fight the validity of the results for such a new machine. I say, “I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything until Henry Wyatt arrives. Got it?”

  Hannah is sobbing, but she manages to croak out. “What’s going to happen to them?”

  I close my eyes and fight back my tears as I try to remain calm for my friend. Even though Tristan isn’t getting out anytime soon, and I don’t dare think about the implications of that, Jake will likely be released on bail. I say, “I’m sure Henry will get Jake home with you in a few hours. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Okay,” Hannah says and she sniffs. “But what about Tristan?”

  I swallow down the lump in my throat, and my voice is hoarse when I say, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”