Justice(108)

Though never busy enough to neglect me. Justin walks out of the ballroom and through the line of well wishers toward me. “Here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m about to make my speech.”

“Crap,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off the end of the hall.

“He’ll get here, Jo.”

“Well, he doesn’t exactly have the best track record.” I groan in frustration. “Okay, if he’s not here in five minutes, I’m personally going to track him down, Taser him, and drag his butt here and make him spend all night listening to Bitsy talk about her new bathroom tile.” Justin chuckles. “What?”

“I pity that man more than words can say.”

I smack his chest to stop the laughs. “Shut up.”

The chuckles subside. “Seriously, he’s a good guy who’s probably madly in love with you. He’ll be here.”

“You think so? I mean about the whole…love thing?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, I glance at him. He has the most heartfelt, radiant smile on his face as he gazes down at me. “Oh, Jo,” he says, “how could he not be?”

I smile back. “Thanks.”

Before he can make me cry, Shannon steps out, harried as usual. “Justin, they’re just about ready for you,” she says before retreating back in.

Justin sighs. “Oh, goody. Speech time. Why is it I can walk into a warehouse full of men with guns without hesitation, but getting up in front of those people scares the crap out of me?”

“Are you kidding? Those people would wipe the floor with the warehouse goons with just a look. They’re vicious.” I adjust his bowtie until it’s straight. “There. Now get in there, superhero, before I lose all respect for you.”

He kisses my cheek. I still get a thrill when he does that. “Thanks, Jo.”

I smack his arm. “What are best friends for?”

He grins again, squeezing my good arm before walking away. With a sigh, I turn back to my original position, watching and waiting for Harry. Maybe this is my punishment for postponing our vacation by a week. Or for not staying at his apartment. He said he was okay with both, and we are leaving tomorrow, and I did spend most nights at his place while Justin was out playing superhero, but still. He—No, I’m not doing this. He’ll be here. He promised, so he’ll be here. He will.

Once again he restores my faith in humanity. My face lights up when I see him running down the hall. “I’m sorry!” he calls to me, almost out of breath. “Sorry. We had a quadruple homicide this afternoon.”

“It’s okay,” I say as I try to tame his disheveled hair. “You’re here now.” There’s applause inside the ballroom. I give him a quick kiss, take his hand, and drag him in. “Come on.”

Justin is onstage behind the podium when we sneak in, hanging back by the door. Justin smiles nervously at the crowd, scanning it. He spots me and the nervousness drops, the smile becoming genuine. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight,” he begins with confidence, “to support the Dr. Rebecca Thornton Pediatric Recovery Wing.” The audience applauds. “Thank you. Rebecca often spoke of the healing power of family and love. ‘I do the easy part,’ she said, ‘I just put back together their bodies. The parents do all the heavy lifting, repairing their souls. Encouraging their children to fight for life, even when they think they can’t do it anymore.’” He meets my eyes and nods. I swell with pride. “This wing, her dream, will aid in that fight. Those children here for long term care, whose parents don’t have the means or ability to pay for months in a hotel room, will be able to remain by their child’s side for as long as possible to get them well, to be their champion, their strength. So please, dig deep into your pockets and help me heal a few souls. Be a child’s hero tonight. Thank you.” The audience applauds as Justin walks off the stage, pausing only to glance at the picture of Rebecca behind him.

Harry squeezes my hand. “I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?”

“A diet soda would be great.”

He pecks my lips. “You got it.” He’s about to step away, but I pull him back and plant a wet one on him. He’s surprised at first, but kisses me back. “What was that for?” he asks with a laugh.

“Showing up.”

“Can’t wait to see what my prize is for getting the drinks,” he says before walking off.

“Hurry back and find out,” I call. Sparkle Cohen, who’s been watching the whole exchange, inquisitively stares at me. I raise an eyebrow and shrug. She jots that down with a smile.