Chapter 8
The trial was set for three months later.
Sarah said it was actually good timing. Noah would be older, stronger, thriving. It would be harder for Diane's lawyer to paint me as an unstable mother when everyone could see how happy and healthy my baby was.
In the meantime, life settled into a new routine.
Ryan came over every day. He'd take the morning shift with Noah so I could sleep in. He'd cook dinner. He'd help with the laundry and the cleaning. He went to all of Noah's doctor's appointments.
He was becoming the husband and father I'd always hoped he'd be.
But I was still cautious.
Trust, once broken, takes time to rebuild.
One evening, after Noah was asleep, we sat on the couch watching TV. Well, the TV was on, but neither of us was really watching.
"Emily," Ryan said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"I've been thinking. About us. About where we go from here."
I tensed slightly.
"Okay."
"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said. "Not completely. Not yet. And I don't expect you to just move back home like nothing happened. But... I was wondering if maybe we could try dating again. Start over. Get to know each other again."
I looked at him.
"Dating?"
"Yeah," he said, a small smile on his face. "Like we did before we got married. Before all of this. I'll take you out to dinner. We'll talk. No pressure. Just... us."
I thought about it.
Before everything, before Diane had moved in and poisoned everything, we'd been happy. We'd had fun together. We'd been best friends.
And over the past few weeks, I'd started to see glimpses of that man again.
"Okay," I said.
His face lit up.
"Really?"
"Really," I said, smiling back. "But you're paying."
He laughed. A real, genuine laugh.
"Deal."
Our first "date" was to the little Italian place where we'd had our first real date, five years earlier.
Claire stayed home with Noah.
Ryan showed up with flowers. Daisies, my favorite.
He opened doors for me. Pulled out my chair. Asked me about my day, really listened when I talked.
It felt strange. But good strange.
Like we were getting a second chance.
"How's therapy going?" I asked over dessert.
"Good," he said. "Really good. My therapist says I'm making progress. That I'm learning to separate my mother's voice from my own."
He paused.
"She sent me a letter. From jail."
I felt my body tense.
"What did she say?"
"More of the same," he said, looking down at his plate. "That I'm a terrible son. That she's going to get out and make me pay. That she'll take Noah from me one way or another."
He looked up at me.
"I didn't write back. My therapist said I shouldn't. That I need to focus on my own healing, on our family."
I reached across the table and took his hand.
He looked surprised, then laced his fingers through mine.
"You did the right thing," I said.
That night, he walked me to Claire's door.
We stood there for a moment, looking at each other.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.
I nodded.
He leaned in, and his lips met mine softly. Gently.
It was our first kiss in months.
And it felt like coming home.
"I love you, Emily," he whispered.
"I love you too," I whispered back.
And for the first time in a long time, I meant it without reservation.
Things moved slowly after that.
Ryan started staying over, on the couch at first, then eventually in the guest room. We took things day by day.
He proved himself over and over again.
When I had a bad day, when the memories of what Diane had done came flooding back, he held me and let me cry. He never got frustrated. Never told me to "get over it."
When Noah had his first fever, Ryan was up all night with me, taking turns holding him, checking his temperature, calling the doctor when we got worried.
He was there.
Really there.
And slowly, the walls I'd built around my heart started to come down.
One month before the trial, we got some devastating news.
Diane's lawyer filed a motion to have the voice recorder evidence thrown out.
He argued that Ryan had recorded Diane without her knowledge or consent, which violated state wiretapping laws.
Sarah called me, sounding worried.
"It's a long shot," she said. "But if the judge agrees, we lose our most powerful piece of evidence. The case becomes much weaker without it."
My stomach dropped.
"What happens then?"
"Then it becomes a he-said-she-said. Claire's testimony is still powerful, and the medical records are still there. But without the audio of Diane plotting to take Noah... the defense has a much better chance of creating reasonable doubt."
I felt sick.
Diane might actually get away with it.
Ryan was furious when I told him.
"That's bullshit," he said. "She admitted it! On tape!"
"I know," I said. "But the law is complicated."
He paced the room, running his hands through his hair.
"There has to be something we can do."
"There is," Sarah said when she arrived. "We need more evidence. Something else that proves Diane's character, her pattern of behavior. Other people she's manipulated. Other incidents."
Ryan stopped pacing.
"I might know something," he said quietly.
We both looked at him.
"Mom... she did this before. To my brother's wife. A few years ago. She convinced Mark that his wife was cheating on him. Made up all kinds of lies. They got divorced. And Mark never found out the truth."
He looked at me, shame in his eyes.
"I knew about it. I knew Mom was lying. But I didn't say anything. I was scared of her."
"Can you get in touch with your brother?" Sarah asked. "And his ex-wife?"
Ryan nodded.
"I can try."
May you like
It was a long shot.
But it was our only shot.
