Page 127 of Free to Judge

A silent I see you.

I love you.

Always.

This is what matters. No courtroom in the world could take it away.

The courthouse doors swing shut behind me with a weighty thud, the ending of a chapter I never thought would be over. The cold hits first. Then air. Fresh air.

Much like it did when I was a defense attorney for the Byrnes, the press crowds the sidewalk. Questions are shouted. But theyblur into white noise because off to the side, away from the hoopla, she’s waiting for me.

God, I still don’t deserve her, is all I can think.

I move toward Kalie like the moon circles the earth. No hesitation. No deliberation. She’s my orbit, my anchor. When I reach her, I stop short of touching her. Not yet.

Her eyes probe mine before her lips curve upward. “You didn’t have to say my name.”

“I did.”

She steps forward and lays her hand flat over my heart. I cover it with my own. “I meant what I said in there,” I murmur. “I started this for justice. But I finished it for you.”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “I know.”

For a moment, we’re caught in a bubble made of just the two of us. Nothing else exists. No mob. No crazy grandfathers. No bridezillas trying to sue her or hysterical families needing my help. It’s just her hand over my heart and the love we’ve built between us.

“Is it really over?” she asks.

“Our part testifying is, yes. ”

She nods slowly. “Good.” Then, more softly, “Take me home.”

The door clicks shut behind us.

She toes off her heels by the door. I watch her for a moment, admiring the way she moves in the space we built together—our home.

My jacket lands on the back of the sofa we spend every night snuggling on together. She shrugs off her blazer. I toe off my own shoes and peel off my socks before walking toward her in bare feet. Then, I tug her against me and just hold her against my chest—pressing a kiss to her head without a word.

Kalie nestles into me like she’s been waiting all day for that one kiss. “You’re quiet.”

I relax my chin on her shoulder. “I don’t remember the last time I felt this much at peace.”

She smiles against my chest.

For a long time, we just stand there absorbing each other. Eventually, she pulls back and tugs my hand.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go to bed. You need to relax. I want?—”

I don’t let her finish.

Bending at the knees, I swoop her up into my arms before carrying her down the hall. We pass framed family photos, running medals we’d earned together and into our master bedroom. I carefully step over the pieces of our baby’s bassinet. We have months until our “we” turns into “three,” but we’re ready for moments that smell less like stress and instead drown us in sweet scented baby powder.

Wrapped in Kalie’s arms, after loving her to sleep, I hold on to my future with nothing left to hide. Our trials are over.

Finally.