I did not reach for my ring when it rolled under the table.
I did not look at my father until I was ready.
Because the moment I looked at him, everyone in that courtroom would understand the one thing Marcus had never bothered to learn.
I had not come to court alone.
I had come home.
Savannah’s heel had caught the side of my belly, not full force, but enough to send white heat through my abdomen and make the deputy near the door take one sharp step forward.
The sound she made afterward was worse than the kick.
A laugh.
Small.
Bright.
Careless.
Like she had knocked over champagne at a rooftop brunch.
“Oh my God,” she said, pressing a manicured hand over her mouth. “She moved right in front of me. I barely touched her.”
Marcus leaned down near my ear.
His cologne hit me first.
