Legally Yours (Spitfire Book 1)

by Nicole French

  “Shit. Skylar! Please, don’t do this!”

  The crack in his voice almost had me turning back around, but his comments still burned in my ears. I tossed an errant hand into the air with more bravado than I actually felt and continued to stride away, willing myself not to look back. Just a few more steps until I was out of the park and could get lost in the crowded sidewalk. Just a few more steps until I could start the long process of forgetting that Brandon Sterling ever existed.

  ~

  Chapter 44

  A knock on my bedroom door pulled me out of my daze, the same daze I’d been drifting in all week. Five days since that explosive fight by the river. Just over six weeks since those monumental words had drifted out of Miranda’s mouth. “His wife.” Who knew two little words could pack such a damn punch?

  “Skylar? You ready to go?”

  Jane’s tentative tone pulled me out of my ugly daydreams, just as it had been doing all week, forcing me to pack up my things and get ready for graduation. It was the first time I had ever let my personal life interfere with my professional (or scholarly) goals. I hadn’t even started studying for the bar, with just under two months to go until the exam. I gave the D.A.’s office a verbal commitment directly after seeing Brandon for the last time, but I hadn’t had the heart to think about anything law-related since. The new hire paperwork was in my messenger bag, still unsigned. Two hefty study guides for the bar exam were packed into my suitcases with my clothes, and the rest of my belongings were tucked into heavy brown boxes, ready to ship back to Brooklyn.

  The moving company I’d hired would be showing up at five to schlep my boxes of books, clothing, and keepsakes to New York. While studying for the bar, I’d be staying once again in my own room, subject to Bubbe’s cooking and the small comforts of home that would help me and my dad recover from our traumatic spring. It should have been a relief, the knowledge I’d have that kind of solace and space to heal. But my heart felt like lead every time I looked at the brown boxes that reminded me I was leaving Boston for good.

  I sighed and turned away from the mirror on the back of my closet door.

  “Well?” I asked Jane. “How do I look?”

  Jane didn’t even have to ask what I meant, but looked me over in a way that had become routine over the last week as she made sure I didn’t have any obvious creases in my clothes or crumbs sticking to my face. She stepped into my room and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, reaching up to affix the black graduation cap that matched her own. Then she pulled the tassel and switched it so it dangled down the correct side of my face.

  “There,” she said with a smile. “Perfect. Where are your dad and grandmother meeting you again?”

  “On the lawn after the ceremony,” I said. “He had a therapy appointment last night, so they couldn’t leave until early this morning. They should be here just in time to see us walk.”

  Dad had been taking his therapy seriously, according to Bubbe and his infrequent updates. He didn’t say a lot, but it seemed like he was dedicated to the process of making sure his addiction never hurt the family again. He’d also started doing physical therapy for his hand, and seemed to be happy with his doctors.

  I let Jane tug me out of the room, past several large bouquets of flowers that had been arriving like clockwork all week. I hadn’t wanted to look at the notes that accompanied them, knowing exactly who they were from, but I didn’t have the heart to throw them out. Crimson and white peonies, which were my favorite flower and also matched Harvard colors.

  “Tea,” Jane said, handing me a to-go cup filled with the brew, which I gratefully accepted.

  We had missed the graduate breakfast, since neither of us wanted to get up at six in the morning to eat with everyone else’s families. Jane’s parents had also flown in from Chicago, but had been more interested in sightseeing around Boston than attending stuffy Harvard events.

  “Granola bar for a snack,” she said, handing me sustenance. “And a chocolate lobster tail for right now.”

  “Oh, you peach, you went to Mike’s, didn’t you?” I tucked the bar into the pockets of my graduation gown and immediately tucked into the flaky pastry, careful not to let the chocolate cream on the inside drip onto my gown.

  Jane grinned and bit into her own pastry. We gobbled them down, companionably hunched over the sink. They were gone within seconds, and then we spent a few moments brushing crumbs off the black and crimson gowns.

  “I feel so official in this getup,” I remarked. “So old-fashioned.”

  “I feel like a Harry Potter character.” Jane looked up and down her robes, pulling out the sides at least two feet on either side. “No one in that book ever gets laid, you know.”

  “I think that has more to do with them being kids’ books than because of their robes,” I replied with a chuckle. “Besides, Harry gets around. Didn’t he have, like, ten girlfriends?”

  “True. One of them was Asian too. So, for the wizard contingent, I guess these robes might say ‘come hither’, eh?” Jane reached behind her ear and tipped her glasses up several times, imitating a Groucho Marx impersonator. “Ooh, Harry.”

  We fell apart laughing, clutching at the edges of the newly cleaned countertops.

  “I’m going to miss you, you know,” Jane said. “I can’t believe this is it. After today…we’re done.”

  I grimaced. “Aw, Janey, you’re getting all mushy on me, aren’t you?”

  She reached out and smacked me playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t be a bitch, Sky. We’ve been roommates for three years, and now you’re one of my best friends. Where else am I going to find the perfect blend of harsh sarcasm and cold observations to chase every piece of tail away once I’m done with them?”

  “Well, who’s going to force me to stop working and act my age? If it weren’t for you, I never would have gone to a single bar in Boston, made friends, fallen in love…”

  We both smiled ruefully at each other with the last remark. Jane knew how difficult the last six weeks had been for me. She reached out and squeezed my hand, then released it gently in order to hand me my cap.

  “Thanks for taking care of me, Janey,” I said, pulling her toward me for a hug that I knew would surprise her more than anything. “I’ll miss you too when you go back to Chicago. I’ll visit, I promise.”

  She returned my tight embrace with equal fervor. “Um, yeah, you will. And New York is full of hot guys, so you know I’m going to be coming up there too.”

  We spoke lightly, but both of us knew it would be a while before we had anything close to resembling vacation time.

  “All right, enough with the sob stories,” Jane said as she set me away from her. “Time to jam. The dean’s going to flip her shit if everyone isn’t in line to march exactly at seven-fifteen.”

  ~

  The double ceremony went exactly as the school planned, with the typical march, speeches, and walk of the commencement on the carefully maintained green lawn of Tercentenary Theater. The weather was appreciably balmy, the perfect blend of sun and clouds that would make sitting on the lawn for three hours in boiling black gowns halfway tolerable. The guest speaker was the current governor of Massachusetts, who offered a short, if dull, address, and afterward each school dispersed and made their way to the separated sites for individual diploma ceremonies. By the time I had received my diploma and gone back outside to mingle with my classmates and locate my family, I was both starving and elated by the fact that the day—that the past three years—was finally over.

  “Skylar, baby!” I made my way around the hordes of graduates to find my father and Bubbe standing at the edge of the lawn, where they had managed to sit down. Dad was no longer walking with a cane, and his hand only bore a light splint.

  “Hey, Dad. Hey, Bubbe.” I greeted them each with a tight hug and accepted the bouquet of roses that my Dad had obviously purchased from the flower vendors temporarily flanking the Harvard Square T-stop. “When did you get here?”

  “O
h, about nine-fifteen,” my dad replied. He smiled at me. “Dang, Pips. I can’t believe we’re here. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

  “Come on, come on, come on!” Bubbe waved us together while she held up the small camera she had been using since before I was born.

  “Bubbe,” I called as I stepped under my dad’s arm. “You sure you don’t want a digital camera? Or just use Dad’s phone? You’ll save a bundle on film, you know.”

  “Pips, I’ve been trying to convince her to do that for the last ten years. She ain’t gonna budge now,” said Dad.

  “Smile!” Bubbe ordered, and we accommodated her through at least four different shots before she beckoned my father over to switch places with her.

  “So, where is he, bubbela?” she asked as she tucked a small arm securely about my waist and reached up to pat at her tightly set brown curls before smiling at my dad. “Take at least four, Daniel, just in case!”

  “Where’s who, Bubbe?” I asked, though I knew exactly who she was talking about.

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Skylar,” she chastised through clenched teeth. “Your man, your mensch. I thought a smart girl like you would have figured out how to fix things by now.”

  Inwardly I wilted, but I outwardly I smiled while my dad fumbled with the camera.

  “He’s not here, Bubbe,” I said. “I told you, things didn’t work out.”

  I’d had some version of this conversation ever since that night in my bedroom. He’s a mensch, she told me, over and over again. They don’t come around every day. I never told her about the bracelet or the letters. It would have only made her resolve to see us reunite that much stronger.

  Dad waved his hand to signal that he was finished and walked back to us.

  “If that’s true,” Bubbe murmured, “then who’s the gorgeous goy who’s been staring at you from under that tree over there? He looks eager enough to me.”

  All three of us jerked our heads to one of the large trees that bordered the theater. Brandon, of course, was leaning against it and looking like his entire net worth in a slim fit, charcoal gray suit and blue shirt that looked like it had been dyed to match his eye color. Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave at him, completely dumbfounded by his presence.

  Bubbe, of course, immediately started beckoning him over furiously. “Oy! You there, Mr. Moneybags, over here, come congratulate my Skylar.”

  Brandon made his way over with a shy smile, and extended his hand politely to my father. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Crosby. Mrs. Crosby.”

  Dad, to his credit, snorted at the gesture and politely refused, holding up his casted hand as an excuse. “Brandon, I told you, the only one who calls me Mr. Crosby are collections agents. It’s Danny.”

  Brandon switched the hand to my grandmother, who gladly accepted it, albeit with a close inspection of his watch.

  “That’s a very nice suit you’re wearing,” she remarked. “Custom made?”

  “Bubbe!” I hissed, but she waved my comment away like she was swatting a fly.

  Brandon touched his lapel with a shy smile. “That’s right. You have an eye for men’s fashion, Mrs. Crosby?”

  “In my own way. My own father was a tailor, you see, so I know the difference between a man in a properly fitted suit and off the rack.”

  “Ma, what’s wrong with this?” kidded my dad, who was wearing his very best tweed jacket that he had purchased from Daffy’s when I was a kid. It had been patched twice at the elbows, and the interior lining had been shredding steadily for at least five years.

  I linked an arm through his and kissed Dad’s cheek fondly, ignoring the way Brandon tracked the path of my lips through squinted eyelids. “I think you look great, Dad.”

  “Thanks, kid,” he said.

  “I can’t stay long,” Brandon shuffled back and forth on his feet. It was the middle of a work day—how had he even been able to carve out the time to be here? “I know you’d probably like to go enjoy the rest of your day with your family, Skylar, and I’ve got to get back to the office. Mrs. Crosby, Danny, could I talk to Skylar privately for a moment before I go?”

  It was all Bubbe could do not to squeal with glee as she ushered my dad over to a row of hedges, out of earshot (only just), but where they could still watch us easily.

  I turned back to Brandon. “Hi.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Hi, Red,” he said softly. “You did great up there.”

  I couldn’t keep the blush rising up my neck and face. “I just walked like every other graduate.”

  “You finished something important. Something that requires time, energy, and discipline.” Brandon replied with another smile that seemed to reach right to my heart and twist. “You should be proud of your accomplishments, Skylar. I am.”

  We stared at each other a moment while his compliment floated around us. The look on his face—a combination of admiration, worry, and longing—seemed to seal out the rest of the world. I could only see him. My resolve and anger quickly started to melt.

  “I’m so sorry I slapped you,” I blurted out, reaching down to twist the thick material of my robe nervously in my hand. “I was just really…frustrated by the whole situation. I didn’t like what you said, Brandon, but I never should have hit you. I’m so sorry.”

  He waved a hand in the air, as if to wave away the entire nasty memory. “Don’t worry about it, Red. I’ve had worse, and frankly, I probably deserved it. I was a completely dick; I’m sorry too.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out something.

  “Here,” he said. “This is yours.”

  He opened his hand and held out the silver cuff I had tossed at him. I stared at it sadly, then looked back up at him, where his expression was open and sorrowful, without much hope. It made me want to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss away his grief. I knew it probably mirrored mine.

  “Please, Red. It’s your graduation gift. I…I know it’s over between us, that you don’t want to see me anymore. But I couldn’t leave it at that. I hope you understand.”

  “But, the letters—” I started, about to thank him for them and point out they didn’t really demonstrate an acceptance of our end.

  “They’re done.” His mouth curved up on one side in a melancholy half-smile. “Anyway, I don’t even know where your new apartment is going to be.”

  I smiled back. “Well, they were nice. Thank you.”

  “Take it,” he said, holding the bracelet out again. “It’ll just remind me of you, and what am I going to do with a ladies’ bracelet anyway? You have freakishly small wrists, by the way.”

  With another rueful smile, I accepted the bracelet and placed it around my wrist, admiring the way it gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. “I think my wrists are perfectly sized.”

  “Yeah, I guess you are pretty perfect,” he said. When I looked up, he was gazing straight at me with a look of such unadulterated desire and love, I couldn’t look away. Tears blurred my eyes, and I immediately reached up to dab them out of the corners.

  “Brandon—” I said with a distinct crack in my voice.

  “Don’t worry about it, Skylar,” he said, reaching out to wipe another tear from my face. “I know, Red. I get it. I just couldn’t let that be our goodbye.” His thumb trailed the edge of my cheek bone and traced the edge of my jaw until he cupped my face so he could continue to stroke my cheek lovingly, holding me still in a trance with his sad blue gaze.

  “Do you think…do you think I could kiss you one more time before you’re gone?” he asked. He smiled. “Do you think your family would freak out?”

  I smiled through my tears. “Probably,” I said. I took a deep breath and leaned into his hand. “But I think you should do it anyway.”

  He cupped my other cheek with his other hand and tipped my face up to meet his. “I’ll always be glad I met you, Skylar Crosby,” he said. “You brought me back to life, and I’ll always love you for it.”

  Before I could answer, he leaned down and br
ushed his lips against mine, pressing softly and slowly as if to savor my scent and taste for as long as he could. I opened easily for him, savoring his taste briefly—too briefly!—before he pulled away. He used his thumbs to brush away the new streaks of tears tenderly before releasing me with another brief kiss on my head.

  “See you, Red,” he murmured, and turned to weave his way off campus. I watched his tall form disappear through the crowd while I did my best to breathe. In and out. In and out. It was only once I could no longer distinguish his figure from the rest of the people that I finally turned back to my father and grandmother, preparing to deflect their curious questions. Then I had to figure out, once again, how to be happy now that I had truly said good bye to Brandon Sterling.

  ~

  “I’m just going to bring down this last bag, and then we’ll wait for you in the car, all right?”

  I nodded at my dad, who left to load my last suitcase into the back of his old station wagon while I did I final survey of the apartment and said goodbye to my roommate. We had spent the first part of the afternoon celebrating commencement with Jane and her parents, which was mostly my dad and I deflecting Bubbe’s intrusive commentary about Jane’s gothic hairstyle, her parents’ interracial marriage, and the crime rates in Chicago. Afterward, Jane’s parents had left for their hotel, and she and I had gone back to the apartment with my family to wait for the movers and help my dad load up his car.

  “Hey, Skylar!” she called from her room. “Do you have any tampons? I seem to have run out.”

  “I think so!” I said, walking back to her room and sitting on her bed to rifle through my purse. “I always kept a couple in here, and I don’t remember packing them.”

  She waited patiently while I dug through, searching unsuccessfully. This was unlike me not to have any on hand. “Damn, I’m out,” I muttered irritably. “I haven’t bought any since…”