Page 53 of Matlock
Tony jerked away from me so fast he nearly stumbled, his eyes going wide with panic. “What the fuck?!”
“Shit,” I hissed, sliding off the counter and trying to straighten my shirt. My lips felt swollen, my hair was a mess, and there was no hiding the flush on my face or the bulge in my jeans. “Shit, shit, shit.”
There was only one person besides my sister who had a key to my house. And Sadie was still with Keys. The door swung open and my mother’s voice rang out, stern and demanding. “Simon? Where are you?”
“In the kitchen, Mom,” I called back, my voice only slightly strained. I shot Tony a look that I hoped conveyed both reassurance and a desperate plea not to fucking panic.
He shot me a look that said,I knew this would happen.His hair stuck up from where my fingers had slid through it onlymoments ago, and his lips were red and swollen. He looked thoroughly fucked, and my parents were about to walk in here and see him.
“Simon!” My mother appeared in the doorway, my father right behind her, both of them looking tired from the drive but relieved to see me. “You want to tell me why we had to hear about this shit from Alex? Why you didn’t call us—” She stopped, noticing Tony for the first time. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had company.”
Tony stood there frozen, looking like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. I could practically see him trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t give us away, his lawyer brain working overtime while the rest of him was still clearly affected by what we’d been doing thirty seconds ago.
I opted for the truth.
“Mom, Dad, this is Anthony Gallagher,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. “My lawyer.”
My mother’s face softened with gratitude. “Oh, of course, Alex mentioned you had a babysitter.” She turned and mouthed,He’s hot,causing me to roll my eyes.
“It’s no problem, ma’am,” Tony said, and I had to give him credit; his voice was steady even if his hands weren’t. He shoved them into his pockets, probably to hide the trembling. “Just doing my job.”
It shouldn’t have hurt the way it did. The way he so casually dismissed me, as if I were nothing more than another tedious item on his to-do list, just another obligation tied to his job. I’d lived with it for years.
“I need to go to the office,” Tony said, then turned to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, would one of you be able to be at the salon with Simon today?”
“Of course, we’ll be in town until after the trial,” my father said, extending his hand. “We really appreciate everything you’re doing for our son.”
Tony shook his hand, then my mother’s, and I walked himto the door because that was what you did when your lawyer was leaving, not because I wanted one more moment alone with him before he disappeared back into his closeted life.
At the door, he turned to look at me, and for just a second, I saw everything he was feeling written across his face.
Desire.
Frustration.
Fear.
Then it was gone, replaced by professional detachment.
“We need to talk about Sadie,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“I know,” I said, matching his tone.
His jaw tightened, then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that felt far too final.
I stood there for a moment, my forehead pressed against the cool wood, trying to get myself under control before I had to face my parents and their inevitable questions.
Back in the kitchen, I found my parents sitting at the small table, my mother pouring coffee into three mugs as if this were a normal morning visit and not the aftermath of me getting arrested for murder.
My father studied me through his reading glasses, with that look he got when he was trying to solve a problem. The same look he’d had when I was sixteen and came home with a black eye I wouldn’t explain.
“Sit down, sweetheart,” my mother said, pushing one of the mugs toward the empty chair.
I sat, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic, and waited.
“So,” my father began, taking off his glasses and setting them on the table. “How long have you andyour lawyerbeen together?”
I almost dropped the mug. Coffee sloshed over the rim, burning my fingers. “What?”
