The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 434

Mia's POV

The courthouse steps are wider than I remember.

Gray granite. Each step slightly worn in the center where thousands of feet have walked over decades. The wearing makes a gentle dip. Like a shallow bowl.

Madison stops at the bottom step.

Her hand squeezes mine. Three times. Quick pulses.

"Hey," I say quietly. "We're okay."

She nods but doesn't move.

Behind us, the others are getting out of cars. Morton's black SUV. Thomas's sedan. Sophie arrived in something red and expensive that probably costs more than most people's houses.

Gas is pulling on her leash. Alexander is holding the other end, letting himself be dragged forward.

"Gas wants to go in!" Alexander announces. "She's excited!"

"The dog is not excited," Ethan says. "The dog smells something. Probably food. There's always food at courthouses because people have to wait a long time and they get hungry."

"How do you know that?"

"I read about it."

"You read about people being hungry at courthouses?"

"I read about a lot of things."

Kyle appears beside me. His hand finds the small of my back. Just rests there. Warm through my dress.

"You ready?" he asks.

"Ask me in three hours."

His mouth does that almost-smile thing.

Madison looks up at him. "Daddy? What if I throw up?"

"Then you throw up," Kyle says simply. "It happens. They have bathrooms. And cleaning staff."

"But what if I throw up on the judge?"

"Then we'll apologize very sincerely and probably become a funny story he tells at dinner parties."

She thinks about this. "That wouldn't be good."

"No. But it also wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Okay."

She takes a step. Then another.

We climb.

The security checkpoint looks like every security checkpoint everywhere. Metal detector. X-ray machine. Bored guards in uniforms.

Gas doesn't want to walk through the metal detector.

She sits. Plants her butt on the tile floor. Refuses to move.

"Come on, girl," Alexander tugs gently. "It's just a door. It's a weird door but it's still just a door."

Gas looks at him. Then at the metal detector. Then back at him.

Her expression says: I don't trust your weird door.

"Ma'am?" The guard is trying not to smile. "The dog needs to go through."

"I know. She's nervous."

"We can do a hand check if that's easier."

"That would be great."

The guard comes around with the wand. Runs it over Gas's body. She tolerates this with dignity. Her tail gives one small wag when he scratches behind her ear.

"She's clear," he announces.

Alexander beams like Gas just won an award. "Good girl! You did it!"

My mother's purse sets off the detector.

She empties it on the table. Lipstick. Wallet. Keys. Her phone. A book. Another lipstick. Tissues. Hand sanitizer. Reading glasses. Another pair of reading glasses. A third pair.

"Mom," I say. "Why do you have three pairs of glasses?"

"I keep losing them."

"But you found all three."

"Not at the same time."

Hugo stands beside her. Patient. His hand rests on her lower back the same way Kyle's rests on mine.

The guard finds the problem. "Ma'am, do you have scissors in here?"

"Oh! Yes. My sewing scissors. I was fixing a button this morning."

"I'm going to have to confiscate these."

My mother looks genuinely distressed. "But they're my good scissors."

"I understand. But sharp objects aren't allowed in the courthouse."

"They're sewing scissors. For thread. They couldn't hurt anyone."

"Those are regulations, ma'am."

She sighs. Looks at the scissors like she's saying goodbye to an old friend. "Fine. But I want them back."

"You can pick them up on your way out."

Sophie sails through security without incident. Her bag gets a second look—probably because it's clearly expensive—but nothing sets off any alarms.

Thomas follows. His wallet and keys in the tray. He steps through. Clean.

Scarlett's bracelets set off the detector. She has to take off four of them. Plus her necklace. Plus her rings.

"Why do you wear so much jewelry?" Morton asks.

"Because I like it."

"It's impractical."

"Your face is impractical."

The guard clears his throat. "Ma'am? You're clear."

Morton goes through next. His phone. His wallet. His keys. His watch.

The watch sets it off.

"Really?" he says. "It's titanium."

"Some titanium alloys have enough ferrous content to trigger the detector," Ethan informs him helpfully. "It depends on the specific composition and the sensitivity of the machine."

Morton looks at Ethan. "How old are you?"

"Five."

"Right."

Kyle goes last. His phone. His wallet. Nothing else.

He steps through.

It doesn't beep.

He's clear.

Madison watches all of this with wide eyes. Memorizing. Processing.

"Your turn, baby," I say.

She steps through. Doesn't beep. Wasn't going to beep. She's wearing a dress and shoes and hair clips. Nothing metal enough to matter.

But she looks relieved anyway.

The elevator is too small for all of us.

"We'll take the next one," Thomas says.

He's standing with Sophie. Not touching. But close. There's maybe six inches between their shoulders.

Scarlett notices too. Her eyes narrow slightly.

"We'll meet you up there," Sophie adds. Her red dress catches the fluorescent light. Makes her look like she's glowing.

The doors close.

10:17.

10:18.

10:19.

Alexander swings his legs. They don't reach the floor. His heels bump against the chair base. Soft thuds. Rhythmic.

"Stop," Ethan says.

"Stop what?"

"Kicking."

"I'm not kicking. I'm swinging."

"It's loud."

"No it's not."

"It is to me."

Alexander stops. Counts to ten. Starts again.

Ethan sighs but doesn't say anything.

Madison sits perfectly still. Her hands folded in her lap. Her back straight. Like she's trying to take up as little space as possible.

I lean down. Whisper in her ear. "You can relax, baby. You don't have to be perfect."

"But what if they're watching?"

"Who?"

"The judge people. What if they're watching to see if I'm good?"

"They're not watching. And even if they were, you are good. You being nervous doesn't make you bad."

She doesn't look convinced.

Kyle leans forward. Looks past me to Madison. "Hey, Madison?"

She looks at him.

"Want to know a secret?"

She nods.

"Judges are people too. And people are nervous about lots of things. Judge Patterson is probably nervous about messing up your name. Or tripping on his robe. Or having spinach in his teeth."

"Do judges eat spinach?"

"Everybody eats spinach sometimes."

"I don't like spinach."

"Me neither. But my point is—judges get nervous too. So you're in good company."

Madison thinks about this. "Okay."

A door opens. A woman in a blazer appears. She's holding a folder.

"Williams party?"

We all stand.

Gas stands too. Her ears up. Alert.

The woman smiles when she sees the dog. "She can come. But she needs to be quiet."

"She will be," Madison says quickly. "She's very good. She's the goodest dog."

"I'm sure she is."

We follow the woman down a hallway. Our footsteps echo. The floor is tile. White with gray flecks.

Madison's hand in mine is damp with sweat.

We reach a door. Dark wood. Brass handle.

The woman opens it.

"Judge Patterson will be right with you."