Just My Luck (The Kings)

“Good morning.” Judge Tamara Barnes smiled down from her bench as my attorney silently guided me toward the small table at the front of the room. “I appreciate everyone being with us today. We’ll start in one minute so that we can stay on schedule throughout the day.”

I adjusted the hem of my top and put on a brave smile as I faced the judge.

“Today’s hearing is for the child custody case number 27842—this is the matter of custody concerning the minor children, Ben and Tillie Hansen, between Jared Hansen, the plaintiff, and Sloane Robinson, the defendant. Counsel, please state your appearances for the record.”

My attorney exuded quiet confidence while I stood with wobbly knees and a hopeful heart. “Your Honor, Laura Michaels appearing on behalf of the defendant, Sloane Robinson.”

The judge scribbled something with a pen. “Thank you, Ms. Michaels. And for the plaintiff?”

She looked up at the empty space near the opposing counsel. “Well . . . Mr. Hansen appears to be absent.” She gestured at the attorney with her pen. “Are you representing on his behalf?”

Jared’s attorney smiled, but tension clung to his shoulders. “Aiden Waxman, Your Honor, appearing on behalf of the plaintiff, Jared Hansen.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

The judge made another note on paper. “Thank you, Mr. Waxman. Can you provide any insight into your client’s absence?”

“Your Honor, I believe there is an ongoing investigation as to the whereabouts of my client. At present, he is . . . not in attendance.”

My heart sank. Though I didn’t want to believe it, there was no denying that Abel’s father was somehow behind the mysterious disappearance of my ex-husband.

My stomach churned. Just because I wanted Jared’s volatility far, far away from me and my children, it didn’t mean I wanted him dead.

My mind still couldn’t wrap itself around the idea that Jared was still missing.

My attorney touched my elbow, and when my eyes met hers, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

One worry at a time.

Judge Barnes sighed lightly. “I see.” The judge flipped through a few sheets of paper in front of her. “It appears as though stirring up trouble and then disappearing is a recurring theme for Mr. Hansen.”

The attorney shifted in his buffed, wingtip shoes but didn’t respond.

“Very well,” the judge said. “Let the record reflect the absence of the plaintiff. Mr. Waxman, would you like to proceed with your case?”

Attorney Waxman slicked a hand down his tie. “Your Honor, we request that all evidence previously submitted be considered with the weight it deserves. However, we will rely on the court’s discretion in this matter.”

My attorney leaned to whisper in my ear. “They are choosing not to call any character witnesses against you. This is very good for us.”

A shiny spot of hope bloomed in my chest.

Judge Barnes nodded. “Very well. Let the record reflect that the plaintiff calls no witnesses. Ms. Michaels, would you like to proceed with your case?”

My attorney smiled. “Yes, Your Honor. We are prepared to proceed. I would like to call the listed witnesses to testify on behalf of the defendant.”

Judge Barnes gestured to the space in front of the bench. “Please proceed.”

Laura nodded and faced the courtroom. “I call Norman ‘Bax’ Robinson to the stand.”

My heart swelled to see my dear, sweet grandfather, dressed in an ill-fitting, rumpled suit, walk to the witness stand. He confidently placed his hand on the Bible to be sworn in.

My attorney gently talked him through a series of questions in which he shared his experiences with my children. My throat went tight when he looked at me and smiled as he told the court how proud he was of me and my ability to care for my children despite our recent bouts of bad luck. He spoke of how happy the kids were and how life near the lake was good for all of us.

When he was finished, he winked at me from the stand, and I mouthed I love you.

Judge Barnes then asked, “Any cross-examination, Mr. Waxman?”

Jared’s attorney shook his head and tapped his pen. “None, Your Honor.”

“Very well. You may call your next witness, Ms. Michaels.”

One by one, my lawyer called friends and neighbors to the stand—Granddad, Bug, Sylvie, Emily, even Bootsy stood on the stand and spoke of the kindness and politeness of my children, to which he credited my parenting skills.

Each of them had nothing but kindness and support for me and my children. I blinked back tears at how they chose to show up for us in such a big way.

My hands clamped together in my lap, and I fought back grateful tears.

My lawyer dropped a folded piece of paper in front of me before resuming her position at the front of the court.

I unfolded it and read Do not react.

My brows furrowed as I watched her. “I would like to call my final witness, Abel King.”

My mouth dropped open, and I shot a look at my lawyer. Unfazed, she didn’t spare a glance in my direction. I clamped my lips together.

From the last row of seats, Abel stood. I don’t know how I could have missed him. Dressed in the same bespoke charcoal suit he’d married me in, Abel walked with cool, unhurried strides. The expensive material stretched across his strong chest, and his tailored pants exuded a sumptuous confidence.

If ever there was a King, Abel was it.

His eyes stayed level, focused ahead at the witness stand as the rest of the courtroom collectively tracked his movements with their eyes.

He was strong and powerful and painfully beautiful.

Just as he passed my seat, I felt a soft brush of his finger along the back of my arm. Heat erupted in my chest, and I fought back tears.

He was here. Fighting for me. Fighting for us.

After Abel was sworn in, I stared as he focused his attention on the questions presented by my attorney. She probed about our working relationship, which Abel proclaimed had slowly developed into a romantic one. Her questioning focused primarily on my relationship with my children and his observations during our time together.

“Sloane is a dedicated and loving mother. I have watched her make every single decision from the sole place of loving and providing for her children. In truth, she is the type of mother I wish I had the opportunity to know as a child.”

My heart ached for the poor, sweet little boy he’d once been. Abel had been robbed of his mother and saw in me the kind of woman strong enough to lovingly raise happy children. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, and I quickly swiped it away.

My thumb fingered the simple silver band on my finger.

My attorney nodded. “Thank you, Mr. King. No further questions, Your Honor.”

The judge moved a paper from the stack in front of her. “I have a few questions for you, Mr. King.”

My heart thumped as he nodded. “Of course, Your Honor.”

“The court is aware of your prior conviction.” Judge Barnes’s cool expression gave nothing away.

My eyes bounced between my lawyer, Abel, and the judge.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The judge’s hands clasped together. “Tell me . . . what has life been like since your release?”

Abel considered for a moment. For the tiniest second, his eyes swept over me before darting away. “In many ways, difficult.”

My chest squeezed.

“Living in a small town where everyone knows you have demons can be difficult,” he continued. “For a while, it was easier to live on the fringe of our community. I’m a bit of an outcast, you can say.” His guileless scoff was a dagger to my heart. “But that all changed when Sloane came into my life.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “Through her, I realized that bad things happen to all kinds of people. We make mistakes and we have to pay for them, but continually punishing ourselves may not always be the right answer. She allowed me to finally see that.”

“So you’ve forgiven yourself then?” Judge Barnes asked.

The corner of Abel’s mouth lifted. “No, Your Honor, but I’m trying. I’ve started therapy—for myself, but also for Sloane and the kids. In fact, it was Ben who’d given me the reassurance I needed to find the strength to even go. I know he got that resilience from his mom. And Tillie?” Abel smiled. “Tillie’s laugh rings out and gets you right here, you know?” He tapped his chest. “She’s a good kid. A happy kid, with a lot of talent. They love their mom, and she loves them—with everything she’s got.”

Judge Barnes didn’t react but simply lifted an eyebrow at Abel. “Ms. Robinson filed paperwork for an uncontested divorce in which you signed. Is that correct?”

“It’s true.” Abel sat tall. “I will do whatever it takes for Sloane and her children to be together. If that means removing myself so that a judge who knows nothing about me can sleep better at night, then so be it. But she will always be my wife.” He thunked a finger against his chest. “Right here.”

The judge set down her pen and flattened her hands against the desk. “Well, that is a very bold and impassioned speech, Mr. King.”

My heart raced as I watched the scene unfold. Abel never wavered under her quiet assessment. My attorney stood next to me, unmoving.

“Mr. King, I have been a judge for many years. In that time I have had women and men, not so unlike yourself, stand before me and make proclamations—claims they’ve changed, that their criminal history was simply a blip. Promises to never skirt the law again. In that time, I’ve learned to suss the liars and the cheats with a fair bit of accuracy.” Her cool gaze stared down at Abel from her bench, and my chest squeezed. “Do you believe me, Mr. King?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

Judge Barnes’s expression was unreadable. “Very well.” She looked at my attorney. “Does the defense rest?”

A confident grin split across Laura’s face. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Judge Barnes nodded. “Considering the evidence presented and the absence of the plaintiff, I believe the best outcome to this case is clear. This court will submit a default judgment against plaintiff Jared Hansen.”

She looked at attorney Waxman. “Counselor, once the issue of his whereabouts is resolved, your client is free to re-petition the court, but as of today, I award sole custody to Ms. Robinson, without visitation. I urge you to speak to your client about the seriousness of the current order of protection for Ms. Robinson. He can expect strict consequences if he chooses to be in violation of that order, especially if it comes across my desk again.”

With a grim nod, Jared’s attorney simply said, “Understood, Your Honor.”

“Very well.” The judge turned to me and smiled. “Congratulations, Ms. Robinson. Case dismissed.” The gavel struck her block, and I let out a cry of relief.

It was really over.

Cheers erupted behind me as the swell of support from my friends and family—my town—rolled over me.

My hands came up, burying my face and stifling the sob of relief. I swallowed back the hard ball of emotion as I watched our attorneys shake hands.

Laura turned to me. “Congratulations, Sloane. You earned this.”

I stood and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She held me at arm’s length and smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry for the surprise witness.” She winked. “He reached out and pleaded his case to speak on the stand on your behalf, and I have to admit . . . that man is something else.”

My eyes slid to Abel, who was standing near the front of the courtroom. “He sure is.”

When she stepped away, Abel moved forward, stealing the space between us and scooping me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest as he lifted my toes from the ground.

“Thank you. Thank⁠—”

My words were smothered by Abel’s warm, soft kiss. I gasped into him, pouring my gratitude and love into that kiss. His tongue slid over mine, deepening the kiss, and my arms pulled him closer.

I melted into him.

“Mr. King.” The judge’s gavel sounded behind us. “Mr. King.”

We turned to peek at Judge Barnes. One discerning eyebrow lifted as she flicked her head. “Outside of my courtroom.”

I blushed and buried my face into him, stifling a laugh.

He cleared his throat and nodded grimly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Abel’s arm wrapped around me as the rumble of his deep voice tickled the shell of my ear. “Let’s go, wife. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

The parking lot to Abel’s Brewery was packed full as we pulled up.

“What’s all this?” I asked, turning in my seat to face Abel.

He lifted a shoulder. “Just a few friends getting together to celebrate your big win.”

My eyes were wide. “But we didn’t know we’d win before . . .”

Abel winked and my stomach somersaulted. “I did.” He popped his head to the side as he exited the driver’s seat. “Just come on. Stop being a pain in the ass.”

“Okay, boss.” I scoffed a laugh and got out. “I’m glad to see you’re still a grump.”

Abel pulled me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He kissed my hair and leaned in close. “I have to keep up appearances. I can’t let everyone know I’ve gone soft because of you.”

My fingertips grazed down the front of his shirt, teasing the front of his jeans. “Trust me, there’s nothing soft about you.”

He growled and walked us forward toward the brewery’s entrance. “I knew you were trouble.”

Once inside, cheers erupted from the front of the brewery. The garage-style doors were open to let a breeze through, and friends and family spilled out onto the patio as twinkle lights illuminated the outside space. In the corner, Layna was strumming her guitar and providing live acoustic music while a few of the Bluebirds were decorating the space with flowers and balloons.

“Abel! This is too much!” I laughed and hugged my way through the entrance as people moved forward to embrace me.

Once I got through the crowd, Meatball came up and shook Abel’s hand. “He hasn’t even shown you the best part.” Meatball handed me a frosted pint glass full of a rich, golden beer. “Here. Try this.”

I glanced at Abel but took a tentative sip. It was rich and toasty with a hint of sweetness. “Mmm! That’s so good.” I smiled at Meatball. “Did you brew this?”

He grinned and shook his head before gesturing to Abel. “Nope. This is Abel’s baby.”

I looked at him. “It’s really good.” I sipped again.

Abel exhaled in relief. “I’m glad you like it. It’s yours.”

I lifted my glass in salute. “Thanks.”

Both men laughed, and Meatball shook his head. “Yes, the glass is yours, but the brew is yours too. Abel made it for you.”

My eyes went wide as I looked at Abel. The man had the audacity to look away and blush. “Are you serious?”

He smiled at me, letting his fingertips smooth down a strand of my long hair. “Warm notes of biscuit and honey. Just like you.”

I was floored. He’d created something just for me, and it was incredible. “I thought you were creating something new for MJ.”

A sheepish smile curled the corner of his lip. “I still am.” He lifted a shoulder and looked across the room at his little sister, who was chatting with a group of friends. “Hers is more of a winter brew. This one is just for you.”

Meatball nodded. “Right on, man. Tell her the best part.” He slid the bottle across the table, and I picked it up. “Look at the artwork.”

Brewer’s Wife was across the front of the label, but I recognized the illustration style immediately. My eyes flew to Abel’s. “Did Tillie draw this?”

On cue, my daughter collided with my leg, hugging my middle with her brother following behind her. “Mom!”

“Hey!” I squeezed her tightly. “Did you see this? It’s amazing, Till!”

She beamed up at me. “Abel said it was a surprise. Isn’t it cool?”

At the bottom of the design was a honeybee in Tillie’s quirky, cartoon style.

“I said to put flowers on it,” Ben added.

I hugged my twins. “It’s perfect.”

Tillie looked up at me. “Granddad said we can hurl ourselves down the sand dunes, and he and Miss Bug will judge us. Can we? Please?”

I laughed at their wide-eyed pleading. “Of course. Just please stay out of trouble.”

Without even hearing my plea, they were off, weaving through people to find my granddad. I looked at the bottle again. “Brewer’s Wife?”

Abel’s dark eyes were intense. “If she’ll still have me.”

I leaned into him. “I guess this means we’re still married.”

His face grew serious, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. The paperwork was filed, and my lawyer said it’ll still go through.”

Confused and hurt, I scrunched my brow. When he grinned, I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him.

Abel widened his palms. “Look, I promised Tillie a new wedding so she can wear a fancy dress. My hands are tied.”

A shocked laugh burst out of me. “You’re going to let the State of Michigan grant us a divorce just so you can appease a seven-year-old?”

Abel’s grin widened. “Not entirely.”

He stepped back and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square box. My hand flew to my mouth.

“Sloane Robinson. My wife. When you found me, I was a broken man, but you weren’t afraid to scoop up the pieces and show me how they could fit back together into something entirely new. Your love gave me the courage to look inside myself. To get better. I promise to love Ben and Tillie as fiercely as I would my own. I promise to love you forever.”

Abel dropped to one knee in front of our friends and family. He opened the small box, revealing the most gorgeous ring I’d ever seen. The cushion cut solitaire danced with fire. “Will you marry me . . . again?”

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I clutched my left hand to my chest. “But I love the ring I have.”

Abel smiled and shook his head. “You’ll keep it. My mother was the first woman I ever loved, and you’ll be the last. Her ring belongs to you. The diamond is just because you deserve some sparkle.”

I flung myself at Abel, wrapping my arms around him. “Yes. Oh, Abel, yes!”

He laughed—the sweetest-sounding rumble in the world—and stood, taking me with him as everyone in the brewery clapped, whistled, and cheered behind us.

The man I’d fallen for was grumpy, brooding, and head over heels in love with me.

. . . And, really, that’s just my luck.