her—and Drew’s—beck-and-call.
As if that wasn’t enough, Meridith had exquisite taste and radiated sophistication, sympathy and kindness, simultaneously. I was surprised that, for once, I wasn’t envious of someone else’s good fortune.
Maybe awakening in this wonderful room had changed my perspective on everything. I turned to one side, then the other, to feel the brush of the expensive bedding on my skin. It was so soft, it reminded me of when I was a little girl and daydreamed of sleeping in the clouds.
My eyes rested on the ornate little clock on the bedside table. It was seven-thirty. Soon Drew would expect me to appear downstairs and start making our “fake” wedding plans…or tell him I wouldn’t marry him at all. My stomach did a flip, but I wasn’t sure if it was at the thought of marrying him or of having to tell him I wouldn’t.
What am I going to say? Am I most bothered by the fact it would all be a sham, or the possibility that it might not really be a lie at all?
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t marry him.
But I was feeling something. Every time I was in the room with him, I felt him on every inch of my skin. He fascinated me, mesmerized me, and he was Drew Larson, convicted—
I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought. Then, the other thought, the one I’d been holding at bay, crept into my consciousness…
Ididn’t believe it.
I thought of myself as a hard-boiled attorney who was never deluded about people. When I was in college, instead of watching soap operas in the afternoon like my roommates did, I went to the courthouse and sat in on trials. After a while, many of the lawyers, and even the judges, knew me by name. I’d lost count of how many days I’d spent in there, witnessing both civil and criminal trials. I watched with professional detachment, even though I wasn’t a professional, yet, taking mental note of the tactics the attorneys used and telling myself what I would do differently if I were trying the case. Never did I feel one whit of sympathy for the defendants in the criminal cases, no matter how strongly they proclaimed their innocence, or how well their lawyer’s argued it.
In fact, after everything I’d seen in my neighborhood growing up, I’d pretty much assumed they were all guilty of their crimes. But now, I couldn’t bring myself to believe this convicted felon, who had never once claimed he was innocent of his horrible act, was actually guilty.
I’d heard enough shrink’s testimonies to know he had experienced everything necessary in his life to mold him into the monster everyone, including Drew himself, thought he was. Yet, when I was with him, I couldn’t see it.
What’s happened to me? Am I seeing him as he is, or is this just wishful thinking?
I sat up and buried my face in my hands. Since I was through reveling in my newfound luxury, I decided I might as well get up and take a shower. As I stepped out of my adjoining bathroom a few minutes later, I thought I heard voices downstairs, but decided it must have been the television.
After I dried my hair and put on some makeup, I was presented with a dilemma. Normally, I would dress in a polished, professional business suit to meet with a client. However, it now seemed silly, considering how I’d been lying in this client’s lap last night wearing only my nightgown.
I walked over to the closet and inspected the clothing I’d brought with me: professional, very professional, ultra professional, jeans and t-shirts, sexy professional… My eyes rested on the last option. I wanted to wear it for him.
At first glance, it was a traditional looking black pencil skirt that hit me above the knee, but instead of hanging straight down, it hugged the curves. The blouse I’d bought to wear with it was lavender with a satiny sheen, which I knew was striking against my skin. It had a bigger collar than average and, although it had buttons down the front, the first one was at my cleavage, leaving the
As if that wasn’t enough, Meridith had exquisite taste and radiated sophistication, sympathy and kindness, simultaneously. I was surprised that, for once, I wasn’t envious of someone else’s good fortune.
Maybe awakening in this wonderful room had changed my perspective on everything. I turned to one side, then the other, to feel the brush of the expensive bedding on my skin. It was so soft, it reminded me of when I was a little girl and daydreamed of sleeping in the clouds.
My eyes rested on the ornate little clock on the bedside table. It was seven-thirty. Soon Drew would expect me to appear downstairs and start making our “fake” wedding plans…or tell him I wouldn’t marry him at all. My stomach did a flip, but I wasn’t sure if it was at the thought of marrying him or of having to tell him I wouldn’t.
What am I going to say? Am I most bothered by the fact it would all be a sham, or the possibility that it might not really be a lie at all?
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t marry him.
But I was feeling something. Every time I was in the room with him, I felt him on every inch of my skin. He fascinated me, mesmerized me, and he was Drew Larson, convicted—
I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought. Then, the other thought, the one I’d been holding at bay, crept into my consciousness…
Ididn’t believe it.
I thought of myself as a hard-boiled attorney who was never deluded about people. When I was in college, instead of watching soap operas in the afternoon like my roommates did, I went to the courthouse and sat in on trials. After a while, many of the lawyers, and even the judges, knew me by name. I’d lost count of how many days I’d spent in there, witnessing both civil and criminal trials. I watched with professional detachment, even though I wasn’t a professional, yet, taking mental note of the tactics the attorneys used and telling myself what I would do differently if I were trying the case. Never did I feel one whit of sympathy for the defendants in the criminal cases, no matter how strongly they proclaimed their innocence, or how well their lawyer’s argued it.
In fact, after everything I’d seen in my neighborhood growing up, I’d pretty much assumed they were all guilty of their crimes. But now, I couldn’t bring myself to believe this convicted felon, who had never once claimed he was innocent of his horrible act, was actually guilty.
I’d heard enough shrink’s testimonies to know he had experienced everything necessary in his life to mold him into the monster everyone, including Drew himself, thought he was. Yet, when I was with him, I couldn’t see it.
What’s happened to me? Am I seeing him as he is, or is this just wishful thinking?
I sat up and buried my face in my hands. Since I was through reveling in my newfound luxury, I decided I might as well get up and take a shower. As I stepped out of my adjoining bathroom a few minutes later, I thought I heard voices downstairs, but decided it must have been the television.
After I dried my hair and put on some makeup, I was presented with a dilemma. Normally, I would dress in a polished, professional business suit to meet with a client. However, it now seemed silly, considering how I’d been lying in this client’s lap last night wearing only my nightgown.
I walked over to the closet and inspected the clothing I’d brought with me: professional, very professional, ultra professional, jeans and t-shirts, sexy professional… My eyes rested on the last option. I wanted to wear it for him.
At first glance, it was a traditional looking black pencil skirt that hit me above the knee, but instead of hanging straight down, it hugged the curves. The blouse I’d bought to wear with it was lavender with a satiny sheen, which I knew was striking against my skin. It had a bigger collar than average and, although it had buttons down the front, the first one was at my cleavage, leaving the
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