I stared at her.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I probably have.”
Then she smiled.
“But are you in?”
I should have said no.
Instead, I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Underneath the confidence, the sarcasm, and the fake pregnancy bump was a woman who looked exhausted.
And somewhere in that moment, I realized I still loved her.
Not the version from twenty years ago.
The version sitting across from me now.
The one asking for help.
The one admitting she had been fooled.
The one trusting me enough to stand beside her.
“What do you need me to do?”
Her shoulders relaxed.
And the plan began.
Saturday arrived.
Sarah’s backyard looked like a pastel-colored explosion.
Pink and blue decorations covered every surface.
A giant cake sat in the center of the yard.
Guests wandered around with drinks.
Nicholas looked thrilled.
He practically glowed.
The moment he spotted me, he hurried over.
“Mark!”
He extended his hand.
I shook it.
Mostly because prison didn’t appeal to me.
“Glad you made it,” he said.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“It’s a big day.”
“For someone.”
