Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(173)

She took a deep breath and continued, “Furthermore, I believe the supreme test of good journalism is the measure of its public service. Therefore, no.” Her gaze softened. “I will not be writing a story about Dan’s kidnapping. Or, for that matter, about my personal relationship with either of you.”

I breathed out, feeling the relief in my bones. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, her tone suddenly exacting and harsh. “I consider Dan’s kidnapping salacious, but I do not consider it news. In fact, publishing it would detract from important, actual news, distract the public from what matters. Sure, it would sell a lot of papers—heiress husband kidnapped by brother—but how does that serve public interest? It doesn’t. It’s garbage journalism, infotainment. It’s a cheap way to make a buck. However . . .”

She took a deep breath, her stare looking solemn, maybe even a little regretful. “I will be researching Dr. Branson, what he’s been doing in St. Kitts, and Caravel’s role—if any. That story is in the public interest. He’s experimenting on a vulnerable population in order to avoid US law. I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. The public deserves to know, even if it hurts your company.”

“I understand.” I nodded, my heart still hurting, but not as much.

Things would never be the same between us from this moment forward, but I was determined to salvage our friendship. Not knowing Marie would never be an option. Life had changed, shifted, moved, and grown for all of us, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t change with it.

People aren’t static creatures, so why should their relationships be?

“I would never ask you to apologize for having professional ethics,” I continued, reaching out, and tangled our fingers together. “But . . . I will ask you to apologize for the lemon drops. You’re never allowed to make anything but tequila drinks ever again.”

She laughed, squinting at me. “My lemon drops are just fine. You’re a lemon drop snob.”

“It tastes like lemon-scented dishwater.”

She laughed harder, tugging me back toward the family room where everyone was gathered. “Fine, oh ye mistress of lemon drop greatness, show me your superior cocktail ways.”

I grinned at her.

She grinned back.

Marie gave me hope.

Despite the changes and challenges on the horizon and down the road—for all of us—I didn’t doubt that everyone in this tight-knit family we’d chosen would continue to try. We would always love each other, and we would always support each other.

And that was enough.



This place doesn’t look like a mental institution,” Dan mumbled, turning his head from side to side as he inspected the fountain on our left leading to a wide, picturesque grassy lawn. “This place looks more like a fancy hotel. Or a spa.”

I smirked at the murky expression on his features. “What did you expect? People walking around in straightjackets?”

He shrugged. “More crows.”

“Crows?”

“Yeah. I don’t know.” He looked adorably flustered by his admission. “Don’t ask, it makes no sense. I don’t know why I expected crows. I’m an asshole.”

“You are not an asshole.”

“Sometimes I am,” he mumbled, scratching his neck.

I scoffed at him, but said nothing. He was being silly.

We walked hand in hand through the outside walkway, toward the wing where my mother was housed. I reflected on how grateful I was that we’d been able to take the day off to do this.

The last few weeks had been hectic. Our friends had departed on the Monday morning after the party. Plans were made to keep our normal, run-of-the-mill knit nights on Tuesdays, where both Ashley and I would join in via video conference.

The rest of that Monday afternoon had been taken up with the aftermath of Dan’s kidnapping. Eugene and two other lawyers from his firm were present while Dan and I were questioned by the police. The rope burns on Dan’s wrists were photographed and entered into evidence.

Seamus was still at large, but we told them everything. We left nothing out except anything related to Caleb’s venture capital firm’s bank statements. Since Alex had obtained them by hacking various financial institutions, we decided it was best not to bring them up.

But we did share the audio recording Seamus had sent to Stan, where Seamus and Caleb had discussed Dan’s kidnapping. The recording, plus Dan’s sworn affidavit, were enough to arrest Caleb.

The very next day, accounts of Caleb’s violation of the Uniform Trade Secrets Act hit the news. Just like Eugene had suggested, Alex had sent offshore legal documentation to the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists. They’d run the story. The scandal was huge.