Page 52 of Frankie and the Fed

I go back to my wheel, and Jane helps Ayala finish her vase while I finish my bowl. It was more fun than I thought, much more.

Jane informs us she will send us the creations after burning them, and we leave the studio smiling.

“I enjoyed it,” Ayala tells me after we get into the rental car. “It wasn’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” I’m interested to hear. Maybe I’ll learn what to do next time.

“Not that. I thought you’d take me to a restaurant or a bar. You know, something typical.” She puts her hands on the air conditioner outlets to warm up. It’s freezing today.

Without holding back, I reach out and rub her hands with mine. She doesn’t flinch from my touch.

“You’re not an ordinary woman. I didn’t want to do anything ordinary. I wanted you to remember this evening.”

“I would remember every evening with you. Even if it’s just a restaurant. Ordinary was never our problem.”

“I know,” I agree. “I’ve tried life without you, Ayala, and it doesn’t work for me. Right now, I want you so bad, I’m going out of my mind.”

“I’m not ready for that yet.” She shakes her head. “I’ve done nothing like that since… I thought about it a lot. Wondering if I could ever go back to living a normal life. If I could ever have sex again, or if it was lost for me. You always make me feel like anything is possible. I feel awake with you. You give me hope I might live again.”

“You’re the only one in the world for me.” A stab of pain hits me when I think about how much she suffered. I can’t stop thinking about how good it was to feel her, to be inside her. All I want is to experience that again with her. I know where I need to be and what I need to do, but she still needs time.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” she admits.

“I’m willing to wait for you until the end of my life.”

CHAPTER22

Ayala

Standing in court is something I never thought I would have to go through. But still, here I am. My lawyer wants to file a counterclaim, but I’m still hoping the lawsuit will go away. Today’s hearing is on our motion to dismiss.

“I can’t believe their audacity to sue us after everything he did to you,” Ethan murmurs beside me. “I’m not willing to lose this case. It’s a matter of principle, not money.”

The worry eats at me. It’s true that I was physically and mentally abused, but Ethan broke into the house. And he has money. Michael’s parents know what they’re doing.

I interlace my fingers with Ethan’s, trying to gather courage. He glances at me in surprise and squeezes my hand in encouragement. At least we got a closed-door discussion, and the courtroom is empty, with the exception of the parties involved. The media will not be able to gorge on our blood. At least not today.

Their lawyer begins, and my mind disconnects from the situation. I try to escape to an alternate reality.

Then one sentence penetrates the layer of fog I’m in.

“Mr. Wolf admitted he shot Michael Summers at his home—”

I jump from my chair. “That’s a lie!”

“Sit down, Mrs. Summers,” the judge scolds me.

“But that’s not true! Ethan did no such thing.”

“Sit now, or I will charge you with contempt.” The judge bangs his gavel on the desk, and I fall silent.

Ethan tugs me down, and I sink back into my chair.

“How does he allow them to keep lying like this?” Rage fills me.

Ethan doesn’t respond. His face is blank and pale. Something strange is happening here. “Ethan?”

“Because it’s true,” he whispers. “I stated I shot him.”