to the courtroom, Daniel, Dad, and the other lawyer are waiting for me outside. My brother grins when he spots me, pulling me in for a hug.

"Ros, this is Caleb. He's working on the case with us." Daniel introduces me to the other lawyer, who looks a little older than me, with wavy blond hair and bright, teasing blue eyes.

I shake his hand. "I'm Rosalyn," I offer with a smile, and he nods, shooting me a sparkling grin.

"Nice to meet you, Rosalyn." He gives me a small wink. "I was worried when Matt told me he had another kid, because this first one didn't turn out so well." He gives Daniel a small slap on the shoulder, and they exchange a playful string of clever abuses, easy and familiar. It's clear that they know each other well.

Dad and I laugh, but I'm so preoccupied that it's impossible to be at ease. Caleb's focus returns to me, and his face widens into a dimpled grin. "But clearly I was wrong to be concerned." His smile is charming and flirtatious, and immediately he strikes me as mischievous, charismatic.

"I'm looking forward to seeing your painting, Rosalyn. Daniel won't stop talking about what a great artist you are." His eyes are bright, and Daniel gives him a small shove. I can't help but like someone who enjoys getting on my brother's nerves.

Soon they start to talk a little about the case again—they tell me about trial dates and strategies and precedent and who knows what else. I try to look interested, but my mind wanders elsewhere, to a certain dark-haired criminal that seems to monopolize my thoughts these days.

Eventually we branch off, Caleb and Dad going their own ways, Daniel and I going ours. I follow him in my car to the restaurant, and the whole while the confrontation between me and Nero runs through my scattered brain. His nose against mine, our lips almost touching, his hands pushing my hips against the wall, quick and rough... it's flustering, and I can't stop thinking about it.

I'll admit that I thought he'd be angrier, more upset that I was there when I clearly shouldn't have been. It's a miracle he let me off the hook so easily. Actually, the intimacy of those moments in the hall were way too steep a price, especially the way my hormonal body is paying for it now, dejected and craving. Nero's face flashes through my mind, and I picture his dark eyes, his mouth, his hands gripping me by the waist. When I became so needy I have no clue.

Daniel takes us to an upscale seafood bar near the ocean, the lights twinkling in the evening sky. We sit inside and fall into easy conversation and then we order, never running out of things to talk about.

Sneakily, I ask about his new girlfriend, but he's too clever. "I want to meet her, Danny. You know I do." I raise an eyebrow, daring him to refuse.

He laughs. "Fine, Ros—I'm bringing her to the fundraiser. It's June 10th. I'll send you the address later." He hands me a pair of tickets across the table, not letting me off the hook either. "You're bringing someone, right?"

I give him a dry frown, stuffing the tickets into my purse. "Yes, I'm bringing someone." I hide a smile as he looks surprised and satisfied, thinking I'm talking about a date, a boy.

"I'm excited to meet him," Daniel says earnestly. I might have been unable to suppress a telling grin had our appetizers not arrived.

We talk until it's late, and he insists he's good to drive home after a couple glasses of wine. I'm so tired when I get back to my apartment that I'm endlessly glad I don't run into Nero, knowing that, in my current state of confusion, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

•§•

are exactly two weeks left before the fundraiser, so I've been working non-stop on the painting. Acrylics are my favourite, and I can spend hours, absorbed and without a care for anything else in the world. But now, sitting in front of my easel, holding my loaded brush up to the canvas, my mind is filled with so many things that I can't stop worrying about—things I shouldn't even be thinking of in the first place.

For instance, there's the trial. I still haven't decided whether or not I'm going to go watch. On one hand, I'm curious. I'd love to see Daniel and my dad together in court.

On the other, there's Nero. Just thinking about him sends a shiver down my spine, nervous and expectant. I'm not sure I would be able to go and see him there—how would it feel watching the trial, him sitting right across the aisle, keeping a sharp, cautioning eye on me?

Anyway, I realize—with a wave of ambivalence—the trial will be during the day, when I'm at work, so I wouldn't be able to make it either way. The thought still nags at me, though, relentless and insistent. Something tells me that whether I'm there or not, the details of the it all will still manage to haunt me.

•§•

to my parents' house, there's a surprise guest for dinner.

I end up being the last one there, and as I hurry to the front door under my black umbrella, I notice a dark blue Benz, nice but not ridiculously pricey, parked on the driveway. Inside, I hear laughter, louder than usual, and when I make my way into the foyer, I find Caleb sharing a drink in the living room with Dad and Daniel, the three of them arguing playfully, not even noticing when I come in.

After I shrug off my trench coat, my dad spots me and hands me a glass of Pellegrino with a wink, his way of saying hello. The other two get up to greet me, my brother messing up my hair before I can push him away. Caleb offers a small wave of his hand, a bright, charming grin flashing across his face.

"Hey," he greets me with a small nod.

"Hey." He's happy and lively, and his energy is contagious.

"We invited Caleb over for dinner," my mom says unnecessarily as she comes out of the kitchen, a dishcloth in hand. She gives me a big hug too, and she smells the same, like lemons and coconut and home.

I help mom with dinner, and Caleb offers his assistance, so I let him carry a basket of warm rolls to the table. "You should teach Daniel how to be useful, too," I tease, and Caleb gives me a somber nod of agreement.

"Just tell me about it." He shakes his head ruefully, and I pretend to act serious too. "He must have been adopted, you know, because there's no way you guys are related."

Daniel steals a rag from my hands and uses it to whack Caleb, and we all break into loud laughter. It's sudden and fun, and for a moment I forget all about my problems. "Is he a slob at work too?" I ask teasingly, and Daniel shoots me a wicked glare, but Caleb and I continue to tease him regardless.

"You should see his desk," Caleb responds. He exaggerates his disappointment, eyes cast down. "I don't know how he gets anything done."

I shake my head, hiding a smile. "The one time I had him over he managed to get cupcakes all over my kitchen." I give Daniel my most chastising expression, and he continues to protest loudly. We just laugh at him.

We make fun of Daniel almost childishly as we bring all the food to the dining room, and the entire house fills with laughter. My chest aches from it. It's cheerful, contagious. Therapeutic.

It takes a couple minutes for us to sober up but we eventually sit down to eat, and I end up between Caleb and my dad. Across from me, Daniel pretends to look egregiously insulted.

"Are those mean kids teasing my little baby?" Mom's voice is full of mock sympathy, and Daniel lets her tap his back soothingly until we finally decide to call it quits, my face still set in a smile.

"So, Caleb," my mom begins after everyone has filled their plates, "How was your first time on the big case?"

Internally, the dread that accompanies any mention of the trial starts its assault on my mind, filling my head with worry. I try my best to appear normal, unaffected, but inside I'm reeling.

Caleb chuckles, wiping his mouth smoothly with his napkin. "Well, the whole thing was actually pretty short..." It earns him laughter, but he's more serious when he continues. "But I think it went well. The real work starts when the trial begins next week, though. The prosecution is not going to be kind."

"Rosy," Daniel says from across the table, "What did you think of the arraignment?"

"Well, it was short..." They laugh and Caleb gives me a small nudge with his elbow, because I stole his words. "I'm sure the trial will be really interesting. You guys will have to fill me in on what happens." I let my eyes float down to my plate as I cut a piece of chicken, feeling the uneasiness grow at the bottom of my stomach.

Dad pours me some more water, and I take a long sip. Thankfully, everyone seems oblivious to my turmoil. "The first round is on Friday, so we'll see what the prosecution has to say."

Caleb nods, swallowing. "I guess no matter what evidence they bring forward, we'll have to find a way to refute it." He thanks my mom as she tops up his glass of wine. "But, if he's innocent, we should technically be able to prove it, right?"

The rest of them all nod. "We have a lot of the pieces already," says my dad, "It's just a matter of finding another potential suspect for the jury."

And who might that be? My head begins to pound. Keeping something so important from them, when all they want is to save an innocent man from conviction, sickens me.

"How much are you going to allude to the fact that they're all in the mafia?" My voice sounds surprisingly steady. "I mean, did you guys see that courtroom? All those guys were definitely criminals." An image of one specific criminal flits across my mind, and it irritates me that he has such a constant place in my thoughts.

The boys all nod, agreeing with me. "We're not hiding anything, Ros. It helps to let the jury believe that it's all one big conspiracy." Daniel sounds like he's thought about it a lot, but it does little to put me at ease. "Talking about the conflict within the mafia and giving evidence that supports it helps show that there are other suspects who have motive besides the defendant. We can even prove that our client might have been unfairly singled out in the investigation."

So can I.

Caleb nods, passing my mom the basket of rolls. "Dan's right. I mean, I think it's kind of funny how quickly they managed to find a suspect with so little evidence."

Nero's doing, I'm sure.

"Okay, boys, let's not spill all of our secrets," Dad jokes. "Don't you guys ever get tired of talking about work?"

Silently, I breathe a sigh of relief. Even as they move on, talking about other, more mundane things, I can still feel the dread, thick and heavy, festering in my gut. I don't think I'll ever be more relieved than when this trial ends.

All I know is that if they don't win, the guilt of it just might eat me alive.

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