(Almost) Happily Ever After

by Annabelle Costa

  “Those videos are ten years old,” Will interrupts me. “I’ve seen them, and yes, they’re horrible. But that’s not what’s going on right now.”

  “The pens are seven feet long and two feet wide,” I say. “That’s what’s documented at their farms. And a pen that size is too small for an adult pig to turn around. Do you think that’s humane?”

  “The pens are regulation sized,” Will says. He sits up straighter, having unconsciously switched into his lawyer mode. “Two by seven is the size of every pig pen in this entire country. The crates are made for another facility and sold for the express purpose of enclosing pigs. Should Hanford be held to a different standard than every other farm in the nation?”

  “You didn’t answer the question, counselor. Is it humane?”

  Will stares at me, as if astonished that I have any sort of response to his arguments. He opens his mouth as if to respond, then seems to changes his mind. He leans back in his chair, just shaking his head.

  “Okay, fine,” he finally says. “I get it. I know how you feel about animals and I understand why you felt you needed to do something.”

  My heart speeds up. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He gives me a tiny smile. “I wish you weren’t doing it with those two assholes, but I understand.” He hesitates. “But you can’t work on the rally anymore. And you definitely can’t go to it.”

  I can’t?

  “Why can’t I?” I say carefully.

  “Libby,” he says, “I’m the Hanford Corporation’s lawyer. Their lead attorney. Do you get that? My fiancée can’t be organizing a protest against them.”

  “Why do they need to know?”

  “All the partners know who you are,” he points out. “There’s no way this isn’t going to get out if you keep it up. Do you understand how bad that would look for me?”

  “But—”

  “Please.” He raises his hand. “I can’t debate this with you. Libby, this is my job. This is what pays for the apartment where we live, which has one hell of a mortgage. This is what’s paying for you to go back to school.”

  I feel my cheeks grow warm. Will insisted on writing a check to pay for my first semester’s tuition, even though I told him I could take out a student loan. He reasoned that it was only one class so it wasn’t very expensive, and it was easier than bothering with the paperwork for a loan. And he could obviously afford it. My argument was that I didn’t like the idea of him footing my tuition bill.

  “I could get fired,” he says. “Do you understand that? Fired.” He takes my hand across the table and I feel his rough palm against mine. “Please, Libby. Tell me you’re not going to keep helping them.”

  So I agree. I don’t really have a choice. Although in the back of my head, I can’t help but think that Will leaving the firm wouldn’t really be the worst thing in the world.

  Chapter 21

  I wait until the next day to call Reid and explain to him what happened. I can’t exactly do it in front of Will, but luckily, it wouldn’t be Sunday morning without Will telling me apologetically that he has to head to the office.

  So five minutes after I kiss Will goodbye, I call Reid. At first I’m nervous he might not take my call, but then he picks up on the second ring.

  “Jesus Christ,” is the first thing he says to me. “What the hell was that all about yesterday?”

  I sink into the sofa with my phone. “I’m sorry. That was… awkward.”

  “You think?”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  Reid sighs. “So… obviously you knew that your boyfriend was Hanford’s lawyer. Were you ever going to tell us?”

  “I didn’t know from the beginning,” I insist. “I swear. And by the time I found out, I was already working with you guys and… well, what was I supposed to say?”

  “The truth?”

  God, he’s just as upset as Will.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  There’s a long pause on the other line. “It’s fine,” he finally says in that even, gentle voice of his. “I mean, Josh was upset last night. Really upset. But I calmed him down. We know that you’re on our side. And… we’d still like you to come over to help tomorrow.”

  I bite my lip. “Here’s the thing: I can’t.”

  “You can’t?”

  I shake my head, even though he obviously can’t see me. “Will… doesn’t want me to.”

  “Oh,” Reid says. “So he’s the boss of you then?”

  “He’s not the boss of me,” I mumble. “But he said that he could get in a lot of trouble at work if they found out I was involved in the protest. And he’s right. So…”

  Reid is silent on the other line. “He’s got a lot of money, doesn’t he?”

  “What?”

  “I Googled him after we saw you last night,” he says. “He’s a partner at Saperstein and Hitchcock. He must get paid a fortune.”

  My cheeks grow warm. “I guess… yeah, he does all right. Pretty well.”

  Another long silence on the line. “Is that why you like him?”

  I nearly choke. How could he say that? Except he’s not even saying it in a mean way—he’s asking like he’s genuinely curious. “What?”

  “Because I can’t figure out why else you’d be with him,” Reid says. “I mean, he’s working for the most soulless law firm in the city, arguing the case of a company that tortures animals. He’s not mega handsome or anything—at least, I don’t think he is. And he’s… Christ, I mean, he’s in wheelchair, for God’s sake… so I really don’t understand why you would—”

  “I’m not dating him for his money,” I interrupt him before he can get any further with this highly insulting line of reasoning.

  “Oh.” He sounds genuinely perplexed. “So… do you feel sorry for him then?”

  “No, Reid,” I say. “I really like him. He’s…”

  I can’t even articulate to him all the things I love about Will. I love that he enjoys all the same things I do. I love that he always makes me laugh. I love that he’s the smartest guy I’ve ever met but he never makes me feel dumb. I love that he sneaks Petunia pieces of butter when he thinks I don’t know he’s doing it, because he wants to spoil her. I love the way his eyes light up whenever he sees me, even after three years. And yes, I love the way he looks too. Especially in a suit. He’s my handsome prince. He’s my happily ever after.

  But I’m not going to say all that to Reid.

  “This sucks, Libby,” Reid says. “We need your help. And… well, I like having you around.”

  “I know,” I mumble. “I wish I could help, but… I really can’t.”

  “If you change your mind,” he says, “let me know.”

  I want to assure him that will never happen. But I just can’t do it.

  Chapter 22

  Will was asked to do a television interview and he is freaking out.

  He’s being interviewed by a journalist named Katie Corrigan for a morning news show. I’m not sure what he’s so nervous about because Katie Corrigan is not exactly a hard-hitting reporter. She’s blond and leggy and seems sugary sweet on her show. Still, Will didn’t want to do it—Saperstein and Hitchcock insisted, because they’re worried about public image.

  He’s been on television, but only for brief glimpses during trials like when Josh saw him. He’s never been interviewed on television before. And it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s terrified. Which is why I’m going with him for moral support, despite the fact that I don’t support the cause at all.

  We looked up online the best clothes to wear on television, and you’re apparently supposed to stick with navy blues, grays, and charcoals. Stripes and patterns are a no-no. So for that reason, we select a simple dark gray suit from Brooks Brothers with a matching gray tie. He puts it on the morning of the interview and he looks really handsome.

  Will wears a tie to work every day, but for some reason, he can’t get his tie the way he wants it. He spends like twenty min
utes tying and untying it in the bathroom mirror.

  “It looks fine,” I tell him.

  “No, it’s crooked,” he insists.

  Whatever. He’s out of his mind. Good thing he got up early to have plenty of time to adjust his tie.

  Once he’s got the tie to his satisfaction, he wheels out of the bedroom, looking like he’s being marched to the electric chair. He brushes a piece of lint from his pants leg. “Hey,” he says, “I’m going to have a look in the full-length mirror.”

  Will hates full-length mirrors, but I need one because… well, I’m a woman. So the only one in our apartment is hanging on the inside of the door to the spare bedroom. I open the door to the bedroom so that he can use the mirror. He wheels himself in front of the mirror and stares at his reflection critically.

  From the look on his face, I can tell he’s not pleased with what he sees. He spends like five minutes adjusting his feet in the footplate, making sure they’re absolutely straight. Which makes no sense because he’s going to get out of his chair anyway when we drive to the station. He adjusts his tie again, and when I see him reaching for the knot, I scream at him, “Your tie is fine! Don’t touch it!”

  Will blinks at me in surprise. “But—”

  “It’s fine, I swear,” I say, more calmly this time. “Your tie looks great. You look great.”

  He looks at his reflection one last time, then slumps in his seat. “I wish I didn’t have to do this. They should have gotten someone else.”

  “But you’re their lawyer.”

  He frowns at the mirror. “These pants make my legs look really thin.”

  I look down at his legs and shrug. “No more than any of your other pants.”

  “Great.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I hate the way I look. I’m the last person who should be on television.”

  I don’t know what he’s talking about. Will may not be movie star handsome, but he’s definitely good looking. Objectively. He’s got a cute face, and man, those muscles in his chest and arms…

  “You need to stop worrying,” I tell him. “You’re going to be fine. You look fine. I promise.”

  He doesn’t look like he believes me, but it’s time to leave so we can’t debate it further. Thank God.

  They warned it might be hard to find parking at the television station, but thanks to Will’s handicapped plates, we get a spot right by the entrance. We’re directed to the second floor, where a young woman named Megan with a bouncy blond ponytail is there to greet us.

  “You must be William Kaplan!” she says with so much enthusiasm, you’d think she was meeting Bono.

  “Right,” he says, shifting in his wheelchair.

  “It’s so good to meet you, Mr. Kaplan!” she gushes as she shakes his hand.

  “Will,” he corrects her.

  Megan smiles at me. “And are you Will’s nurse?”

  Ugh. Okay, it’s not like we’ve never gotten a dumb comment like that before, but why now? Why did she have to say that Will is already super nervous and feeling crappy about how he looks? I can already tell by his face that the comment is messing with him.

  “I’m his girlfriend,” I say.

  Megan’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I just thought…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly.

  She looks between us, smiling nervously. “Why don’t I show you to the green room?”

  I’ve never been in a green room before, but I’d always assumed that it would be… you know, green. It’s not. Well, except for a couple of plants. Other than that, it’s mostly whites and reds, from the white table in the center of the room to the dark red sofa pushed against the wall. There’s also a water cooler in the corner of the room that Megan feels a need to take special note of.

  “You should make sure to drink enough water before your interview,” she tells Will. “Most people’s throats get pretty dry.”

  “Sure,” he says. He’s being agreeable, but I know he won’t touch that water. Unlike you or me, Will can’t actually tell when he needs to go to the bathroom, so he uses a catheter and is very careful about what he drinks and when. He used the bathroom right before we left and there’s no way he’s going to risk drinking something when he doesn’t know when the next time he’s going to be able to get to a wheelchair accessible bathroom will be.

  Megan leaves us alone, and that’s when Will starts looking really nervous. He’s really pale and he keeps pulling and adjusting his tie. I honestly feel sorry for him. I wouldn’t want to go on national television and defend the Hanford Corporation either.

  “You’re going to be great,” I assure him.

  “Why couldn’t they have booked me for a radio interview?” he says. “I wouldn’t have any problem with that.”

  “Will…”

  He shakes his head. “Do I really seem like I need a nurse? What the hell was that about?”

  “She just doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I say. “Just… relax.”

  He can’t relax. He’s absolutely determined to drive himself crazy. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him like this. Usually, he’s extremely confident. I know he’s not this way before he goes into court. If he’s able to do that, how come this is such a big deal?

  We’re waiting fifteen minutes when an intern comes to bring us in to the studio. As nervous as Will is, I’m really excited. I’ve never seen a television show being shot! This is fascinating.

  The intern takes us to an area where there is a white circular couch set up with a coffee table in front of it, which I recognize as the set of Katie Corrigan’s interviews. There’s a large camera set up to point at the couch, and there are several people around, looking various stages of busy.

  A man in his forties with graying hair approaches us in the studio. He holds out his hand for Will to shake. “William Kaplan? I’m Steve Giralt, one of the producers.”

  Will takes his hand. “Nice to meet you. Please, call me Will.” He nods in my direction, “This is Libby Saunders—she’s my fiancée. She was hoping she could watch, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Steve hands Will a white piece of paper with some black type on it. “These are the questions Katie is going to ask you. Just so you can be prepared. What do you think?”

  Will scans the list. “Yeah, that looks fine.”

  Steve glances around. “In that case, we’re going to get someone to mic you up, if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Will says.

  Steve studies Will’s face. “I think I might grab Cindy from make-up too. You’re sweating.”

  Will wipes his brow self-consciously. “Just a little.”

  Steve grins. “Don’t worry—it’s normal. This is your first time doing an interview on television?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  Steve claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. It will be over before you know it.”

  Getting Will’s microphone on is an event in itself—even if he weren’t in a wheelchair, it wouldn’t have been that easy. The sound guy comes over and has him remove his jacket. Will has to lean forward, then the sound guy hooks the wireless mic pack to the back of his pants. The wire runs up to his collar and clips to his tie. You can’t see it anymore when he puts his jacket on.

  “How’s it feel?” the sound guy asks Will.

  He manages a smile. “Not the most comfortable thing in the world.”

  The sound guy smiles back. “You’ll get used to it.”

  While Cindy from make-up comes by to powder Will’s face, I see Katie Corrigan walk into the studio. Even though I’ve never particularly been a fan of Katie Corrigan, I have to admit, I’m starstruck. I always thought her beauty was some sort of trick of the camera, but she’s honestly even prettier in real life. I almost want to reach out and touch her, just to see if she’s real.

  My heart is beating wildly in my chest as Katie Corrigan strides right up to us just as Cindy is finishing powdering Will. He noti
ces her too, and he starts adjusting his tie again, even though it’s got the mic tenuously attached to it.

  “You must be William Kaplan,” Katie Corrigan says to him.

  He nods, his mouth hanging slightly open. Looks like he’s starstruck too.

  “I’m Katie Corrigan,” she says to him.

  “I… I know,” he manages, then his face turns bright red. He mumbles, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  I’m no longer able to hold back and I blurt out, “Ms. Corrigan, I am such a big fan of yours!”

  I don’t know why I said that. I’m not actually a big fan of Katie Corrigan. I’ve only watched her program maybe one and a half times. But she’s so pretty and famous—I had to say something.

  “Thank you so much…?”

  “Libby. I’m Will’s fiancée.”

  Katie Corrigan smiles at me with perfect white teeth. “Very nice to meet you.”

  Steve comes jogging back to us, carrying a clipboard. “Great, everyone is here. Listen, I’m trying to figure out the logistics. Because, you know, all we’ve got is that couch.” He looks pointedly at Will’s wheelchair. “I’m just not sure how to work things.”

  “I can sit on the couch,” Will volunteers. “Libby can just put my chair on the side.”

  “Yeah…” Steve rubs his chin. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, Will. I don’t think covering up your disability is a good idea. You’re going to be photographed in court so it’s not like the public won’t know, and… I just think it’s better to not act like you’re hiding something about yourself.”

  Will frowns. “Fine. Well, what do you suggest?”

  Steve nods at me. “Does she help you get in and out of the chair?”

  “No,” Will says. “I do it myself.”

  “Oh.” Steve seems surprised. “Well, maybe we can film you coming onto the set, then you can get onto the couch.”

  Will’s eyes widen. “You mean transfer on camera?”