That evening, with a container full of banana nut muffins to represent the embarrassment I’m about to swallow, I push my shoulders back and head across the courtyard. Moses isn’t expecting me, but I know he’s home by the flicker of TV light against his curtains. The flight of steps is like climbing a cliff, and when I get to the top, I let my head fall back to catch a breath. 

The sky is gorgeous. 

There isn’t a cloud in sight to compete with the rust and amethyst streaks setting the horizon on fire, and it’s not dark enough for the moon to glow, but it’s there like a ghost. I take a few more paces to his door, but it pulls open before I get a chance to knock, and out walks Lisa. 

“Hi…” I blanch.

“Hey!” She smiles and steps out, adjusting her oversized sweater. “We were just talking about you.”

The door opens wider, revealing Moses, and our gazes flash to each other. His eyes grow wide, but mine dodge to the ground as I hug the container, regretting ever making the muffins. 

“How is everything?” She adjusts her sweater again, and jealousy growls in my stomach because her hair looks slightly disheveled. Were they fooling around? “My dad told me things didn’t exactly go as planned with arresting your father.”

“It went fine,” I say with some bite.

“I’m here if you need to talk.” She places her palm on my shoulder, and I hug the plastic container tighter to avoid whacking her hand away. “Thanks.”

“Well, see you guys later.” She waves and walks away. I’m also tempted to leave, but instead, I stand there, like an iceberg.

“So…” Moses says, tapping the container. “Did you make those for me?”

“Yeah, but now I’m not sure I want to give them to you.” My eyes follow Lisa, then flick back to him. “You sure move on fast.”

“Huh?” His brows fly towards his hairline.

“I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when people have been messing around. She has sex hair!”

“Sexhuhwhat!?” Moses barks a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“Take your damn muffins!” I open the container and chuck one at him.

“Whoa, Val, wait.” He ducks as I throw another, then another, and shove the container into his chest. When I turn to leave, he slides in front of me, blocking the path. “Do you seriously think I cheated on you?”

“We’re not together anymore. You’re free to do whatever you want, so move out of my way.”

“Val.” He doesn’t budge, but a shade of somberness takes over his expression as he stares at me. “You don’t think highly of me, do you?”

“I—” The words falter, and I blink a few times because I actually think the world of him. He's been nothing but sweet and selfless, so why am I being so stubborn? Pride. It’s my pride. So, I swallow it down and look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry. You were right about the reporter. She ambushed me earlier.”

“I noticed,” he exhales while running a hand through his ash blonde hair.

“So, if you weren’t banging Lisa’s brains out, what were you doing?” 

“She was freaking out because she thought she might be pregnant,” he says, then holds up his finger. “With her coworker’s baby, and since I’m a nurse, she wanted my expert opinion.”

“And?”

“And one pregnancy test later, and she’s in the clear. Although, I did urge her to make an appointment with her doctor to run an official test.”

“I see.”

“So…” He teeters on his heels with hands in pockets and looks up at me through the bit of hair falling into his eyes. “Want to come inside?”

“Ok.”

“You can help me wash off the sticky muffin crumbs.” He grins. I try to bite back a smile, but my body moves forward and toss my arms around him. Our lips meet and maintain the hold for a few seconds, but when we pull away, he brushes my curls aside and presses his forehead to mine. “Are you my girlfriend again?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” He sweeps me off my feet, causing a giggle to bubble from my throat as he whisks us into the apartment.

∆∆∆

When morning arrives, I’m wide awake with my head on Moses’s bare chest, listening to his heartbeats as his lungs expand and contract. It’s serene with a steady tempo, unlike mine, which hammers and pulses like a construction site. 

At ten forty-five AM, my father will be arraigned for kidnapping me. When I got ahold of an FBI agent yesterday, they said my dad will be charged with Second Degree Kidnapping, which could land him up to ten years in prison. Part of me is relieved he’ll still be young enough to move on with his life—start anew, but the other part is offended. He took twenty years of my life. Twenty years I could have spent with my biological family, and all he’ll get is ten years? If he even gets that.

“I can hear you thinking,” Moses yawns. “What time is it?”

“Early. The sun is starting to rise. See?” I point to the window, where a sliver of rich golden rays winks through the curtains. 

“Nervous about today?”

“A little.”

“Have you thought about meeting with Amelia after?”

“No,” I lie as a ripple of anxiety goes through my stomach. I need a distraction, so I start kissing down his abdomen.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Where are you going?”

“To put this morning wood to good use.” I kiss down to his boxer briefs and grin wickedly at him, but he shakes his head. 

“I know what you’re doing. It’s ok to talk things out with me if you’re nervous. You don’t have to conceal it with distraction.”

“I’m not,” I lie again. “Can’t I just give my boyfriend a BJ for being sweet to me?”

“Ok,” he whispers and strokes the curls out of my eyes. “But only if I get to return the favor.”

“Deal! Now, where was I?” I tug on his undies.

We spend the rest of the morning in bed, but when eight-thirty rolls around, we get up to shower, get ready, and head for the courthouse. For the last few weeks, I haven’t appreciated how much Moses has been there for me. It’s not until we’re on the road do I absorb it all. He holds my hand the entire way, and when we pull into a parking spot on the street, he kisses my knuckles. Sometimes it’s the little things that make the most significant difference.

Reporters stand on the steps leading to the courthouse, so I grip the door handle, hesitant to step out of the car. Earlier this morning, Julian had texted me links to news articles where photos of me were plastered. There was even footage of us trying to get into the apartment yesterday. Somehow, overnight, I had become a celebrity without knowing it. 

“I’ll be right here by your side.” Moses squeezes my hand. “And I just saw Julian pull up. We’ve got you.”

When I glance across the street, Julian’s windshield glints under the sharp morning sun as he and his family exit the car. Another vehicle pulls in next to his and judging by the wavy blonde hair, it’s Lisa and her dad. I squeeze Moses’s hand, tears stinging in my eyes. They’re all here to support me, and my heart has never overflowed with acceptance and love more than now.

“See? We’ve got you.” Moses kisses my shoulder.

We exist the car, the doors sending a crack through the chilly morning as we close them. Moses takes my hand when we round the hood and linger for everyone to join us. Despite what awaits me inside, Julian is all smiles as he crosses the street with Sofia. 

“I see you love birds made up.”

“We did.”

“I figured you would.” He pulls me into a hug, and I bury my face into his soft, hunter-green sweater. “You always were a sucker for blues eyes.”

“They’re grey,” Moses and I say simultaneously.

“Grey, blue, same difference.”

“Hey, stranger.” Sofia nudges Moses. “You don’t look so miserable anymore.”

“Huh?” Moses crooks a brown, unable to place her.

“I’m the girl who had her tongue down your brother's throat.” She grins, and when recognition contorts Moses’s mouth into an O shape, she laughs. “By the way, can you tell Noah I said hi?”

“Sure. Hopefully, it will get him to stop talking about the girl that got away.”

“He’s been talking about me?” Sofia’s eyes light up, but Julian rolls his eyes.

“This day is about, Val. Not you.”

“Rude,” she says.

“You’re rude,” Julian counters.

As the siblings bicker, Moses takes my hand and guides me toward the courthouse steps. “Ready?”

“No, but I’m glad I’m not alone.”

We climb the steps, and I squeeze his hand a little tighter. Someone in the group of reporters notices me, followed by a mob of flashing cameras and boom mics shifting our way. It takes seconds until they’re in my face, asking questions, but my flock of protectors surrounds us, their arms creating a barricade. Sofia even tells a paparazzi to fuck off and smacks his camera. Moses and Julian hold onto me so tight that my feet leave the ground as they push us through the crowd. A tunnel opens with security guards shoving people out of the way to pull us through.

“Are you alright?” One asks as I thud into his chest.

“Peachy.”

“Let’s get you inside,” he says, and somewhere behind us, another security guard is barking at the reporters and paparazzi to disperse.

Our group is escorted into the courthouse, with each of us brushing strands of hair into place or adjusting our garments. The glossy marble floor absorbs the tap of our shoes as we head for the security checkpoint and begin dropping loose items into bins so the x-ray machine can scan them. 

“That was wild,” Lisa huffs as she places her bag on the conveyor belt. “The FBI better get you a bodyguard!”

“We are her bodyguards.” Julian nods proudly.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Lisa’s father says. “With this story back in the news, things will be crazy for a while.” 

An arm curls around me, and it’s Moses. A crease of worry forms across his forehead, so I place my hand on his chest and kiss him. The gesture results in his half smile, but he gives me another squeeze before I step through the security sensor. A guard waves a wand over me and then pats me down before I’m cleared to proceed to the courtroom.

We enter as a group, and it’s different, yet the same as I’ve seen on TV. Most of it is what I expected, with rows of wooden benches like church pews on each side, a defense table on the right, and the prosecution on the left. Even the jury box is where I imagined it would be, but I didn’t expect to see a glass partition on the right, where inmates wait their turn for arraignment. I search their faces for my father, but he’s not there, which sends my heart into rough knocks against my rib cage.

Moses nudges my lower back, so I continue down the old teal green carpet, looking for where to sit. There are a few empty rows, but I have no idea which to choose, and everyone who arrived with me is waiting for me to decide, so I hurry into a row on our right. As we file in, Moses shuffles around me, sandwiching me between him and Julian so I don’t have to sit next to the stranger at the end of the row. They meant it when they said they’d be my bodyguards.

It isn’t until I take a seat and begin removing my jacket that I notice some of the news reporters standing against the wall with press passes around their necks, notepads, and cell phones in hand. Some even snap sneaky photos of me. Moses drapes his arm around my shoulders and whispers, I love you, in my ear. That tugs a smile across my lips and sways my attention from the nosy journalists. 

When I face forward, I catch a glimpse of long, dark hair on the opposite side of the row. I’m unsure what it is, but I can feel their stare burning my left cheek. I peer past Julian’s big head to spy on the person watching us. Upon seeing who it is, I slap my palms against Moses and Julian’s knees, releasing a sharp gasp. 

It’s Amelia Moreno. 

Neither she nor I utter a sound, but a million unspoken words pass between us like static crackling through the air. It's like radio waves from her heart to mine, but we speak through blinks and the rise and fall of our chests. Her eyes accumulate moisture, and she wants to say something, but the bailiff announces we must rise for the judges' arrival. 

Like a coward, I take the opportunity to look away because I just stared into the universe, and it’s too vast to understand its beauty. We rise, and I squeeze Moses and Julian’s hands, but the next thirty minutes are a blur. All I can think about is Amelia, and I sense her watching me as I pick my nails down to nubs. Everything fades as the public defense attorney and the judge speaks. Their lips move, but I can’t hear a word they’re saying. 

The next thing I know, my father is walking into the courtroom in chains.

They don’t allow him to sit as they do on TV. Rather, he stands in front of the defense table but off to the side. I should be paying attention to what the judge and the attorney are saying, but instead, I keep thinking about how horrible my father looks in orange. It washes out his bronze Italian skin tone. I also notice his hair which usually has some gel but is soft and falls into his swollen eyes. It’s as if he hears me because his attention darts over, and we lock gazes. I want to hug him, reprimand him, shove him, yell, and cry, but I also want him to know I’m not angry anymore. As if he understands, he closes his eyes and nods, then looks away. 

“No contest,” he says, and the courtroom fills with gasps.

But I blink a few times, remembering an arraignment is taking place, and I haven’t processed a damn word the judge has said. He obviously asked my father to plea, and up to this point, I never thought about what he might say. 

“What does that mean?” I whisper to Moses. 

“It means he’s not admitting to guilt or denying it.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s neither. It’s like he’s saying he’s guilty for kidnapping you but not guilty for loving you as his daughter.”

“I see…” I whisper and rub my mother’s necklace, which dangles down my chest. I like what Moses said. It feels true, so I take his hand and kiss his knuckles. “Thank you.”

The judge declares my father is a flight risk, therefore will not receive bail and will have to await sentencing until next week at ten AM. The clack of the gavel causes me to flinch, and just like that, my father is shuffled away by a guard, but he takes one last look at me before slipping through the door off to the side. My hand leaves Moses, and I’m on my feet, trying to catch every last second before he disappears. 

And then he’s gone. 

I’m still rubbing the necklace until Julian tugs at my belt loop, and when I glance down at him, I catch Amelia staring at me. Her expression is hard to read, but the crease above her brow might be disappointment, so I look away and sit down. However, it’s uncomfortable being here now that my father’s arraignment is finished and Amelia is watching me.

“Can we leave?” 

“Just say the word,” Moses says.

“I’m ready.”

Our group exits the row, and it catches the attention of the news reporters. They take quick snapshots with their phones, but I keep my head down. When we make it out to the corridor, I exhale a long breath of relief and tug at the collar of my blouse while pacing.

“I need a burger,” I blurt. “And a strawberry shake.”

But no one responds. It isn’t until I feel a tap on my shoulder that I understand why. I whirl around, expecting to see Moses or Julian, but instead, it’s Amelia Moreno. She's shorter than me, but her brown eyes could fill a room with their intensity as she studies me. Everyone around us has fallen silent, and the reporters are spilling out of the courtroom, practically tripping each other to get a good photo angle.

“Hi,” I say.

However, Amelia doesn’t say a word. Instead, she throws her arms around me and sobs so hard that I feel her heartache transfer to my chest.

I begin crying too.