Eugene: Did he sign the postnup?
Dan peered at me, lifting his drink to bite on his straw. “Eugene again?”
I nodded, dismissing his text. It was exactly the reminder I needed, the bucket of ice water required to put this conversation back on track.
Navigating to my notes app, I offered my phone to Dan. “I need to show you something.”
His gaze flickered between the phone and me, but he didn’t take it. “What’s that?”
“I made a list of all the things I’ve done, all the things you need to know about me. I didn’t—I don’t—want you marrying me before you understand the extent of my—”
“You mean it’s like a list of bad stuff?”
“That’s right.”
His gaze morphed into a glower and he leaned away. “I don’t want to see the list. I don’t need to see a list of all the things you think you’ve done wrong in your life.”
“But I want you to make an informed decision. Before you agree to marry me—”
“Like I said, it’s too late. I’ve already agreed.” He held his hands up, palms out. “No list is going to change my mind about that.”
“But—”
“Do you want me to make a list of all the bad shit I’ve done?” He lowered his voice, looking suddenly angry and scowling at my phone like it had just attacked his dog. “Because I guarantee you, it’s going to be longer than your list.”
“No. I would never ask you for that.” I brought the phone to my chest, hiding the screen that seemed to offend him so much. “You’re the one helping me, not the other way around. I owe you everything, and you owe me nothing.”
He shook his head, pushing his food away and crossing his arms. Inexplicably, my words seemed to have made him furious, and he appeared to be dangerously close to losing his temper.
“You have got to stop fucking thanking me.” He pronounced each word slowly, meticulously.
“I don’t know how to do that. You’re saving my—”
“Listen,” he ground out, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The truth of the matter is, maybe we don’t know each other all that well.” He opened his eyes and his gaze hijacked mine with its intensity. “But we’ve known each other for several years. And in that time, I’ve never seen you do anything that would make me hesitate helping you now, okay? And obviously, there’s nothing I’ve done over the last several years that had you hesitating asking me for help either.”
I couldn’t respond because my throat was clogged with an unidentified emotion. We held each other’s stare for a long moment and I watched his anger dissipate, most of the tension releasing from his shoulders.
“Respect, right? Why can’t that be the end of it?” He leaned forward, his gaze softer, but far from the sexy eyes he’d been giving me earlier. “And who we are now is pretty fucking awesome. So let’s not try to color this mutual respect—or stain it, or whatever—with the things we’ve done in our past that we’re maybe not so proud of, okay?”
I nodded, not convinced but knowing now was not the time to argue. Maybe, at some point, I’d try to reintroduce the issue. But now was clearly not the time.
“Good.” He exhaled a breath that sounded enormously relieved. “So, let’s get back to this guy, your dad’s lawyer. Eugene? What’s he keep calling about?”
Chapter Eight
Tried as an Adult: A situation in which a juvenile offender is tried as if he or she were an adult. Where specific protections exist for juvenile offenders (such as suppression of an offender's name or picture or a closed courtroom where the proceedings are not made public), these protections may be waived.
—Young, M. C., & Gainsborough, J. (2000). Prosecuting juveniles in adult court: An assessment of trends and consequences.
**Dan**
She didn’t want to answer my question.
I could tell by how she was messing with the buttons at her wrist. So I tried something different.
“He bothering you?”
“No. Not at all.” She rubbed her forehead like she had a headache. “I mean, yes. He’s currently bothering me because he won’t stop calling and texting, but no. He doesn’t bother me as a general rule. He’s great. In fact, he’s the one who warned me about my cousin and advised me to get married as soon as possible.”
She stared off into space, looking like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. That didn’t sit right with me. No one should have the weight of the world on their shoulders, and Kat feeling this way made me agitated, restless. I wanted to do something.