Fallen Woman(78)

I kept waiting for him to let me talk, to hand over the reins, but he kept going, so I waited stoically by his side, never taking my eyes from his face.

“I should never have touched Holland Hanks—it was wrong, it was illegal, and apparently, I really did a number on his face. But if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. For Mr. Hanks to act as though it was unwarranted or insinuate he doesn’t know what spurred the attack is a lie. I do not regret defending my wife.”

The moment he stopped speaking, the reporters started firing off questions faster than he could answer them. They wanted to know what Holland had done. Others insisted on calling it legalized prostitution. The insults flew as fast as the question did until one reporter finally stopped to address me.

“What could you possibly have needed five hundred dollars per date for, Miss LeBron?” he asked in a horribly condescending voice—passing judgment before I’d spoken a word.

“Her name is Mrs. Lane,” Jase responded coldly before allowing me to step up to the microphone.

That was a question I knew I’d get. It wasn’t one I wanted to answer but felt I had to. “I’m not sure if any of you can imagine what it feels like to have failed—at life. To be a woman who’s fallen so far down you’ve lost sight of who you once were, but that’s where I was. I was trying to make it legitimately; I wanted to do it on my own. I didn’t want handouts. I was doing the best I could, but the truth is, even living in subsidized housing, I couldn’t make ends meet. Add having a chronically ill toddler to that equation, and five hundred dollars is a drop in the bucket.” I took a deep breath and admitted, “My youngest daughter has Chronic Lyme Disease, and her medical bills have far exceeded my ability to pay them. Faced with her needing treatment and not being able to provide it, as a parent, I made the choice I had to. I compromised who I was to ensure she was healthy. I’m ashamed of what I did, but I’d do it again to save my daughter.”

“Is your marriage a gimmick to keep Mr. Lane from facing charges?” The reporters screamed their questions, making them appear more aggressive than they might have been in a one-on-one interview.

I tried to make eye contact with the man who’d asked the question. “No, sir. It is not. I love Jase. He’s my best friend. And if you haven’t noticed, he’s still facing charges. The two of us getting married did not make that go away.”

“What did Mr. Hanks do to you that sent Mr. Lane into such an uproar?” a random woman asked from the front of the crowd.

“At this time, I’m not at liberty to discuss that.” I followed Hart’s instructions on how to evade a question, but I wouldn’t get away with it often.

“Is your marriage to Mr. Lane a scam to get people to believe you’re really in love? Is this a publicity stunt to try to get Mr. Lane out of trouble?” I wondered if any of them were actively listening to anything being said, or if they were just preparing the question they wanted to ask. Having already answered the question, I was frustrated by their inability to pay attention.

Jase stepped up to take over, but I held up my hand to stop him. “The truth is, regardless of what I say, you’re going to believe what you want, but nothing about mine and Jase’s relationship is a scam. We’ve been very close for quite some time, and I love him. Whether he was loaded or broke, that wouldn’t change our relationship—only our address.”

As the questions continued, Jase stood firmly next to me and answered the majority of those fired at us. I managed to keep my tears at bay; they weren’t of sadness but rather frustration. I needed to escape this nightmare and hoped Hart would end it sooner rather than later.

Ten minutes passed, and when the questions got beyond appropriate, he put a stop to it and ushered Jase and me back inside where we were met with a fresh pot of coffee. We waited for the last reporter to leave before making our way home. I was exhausted—the emotional overload had taken a toll on me. But when I looked at Jase, he seemed pumped.

“What’s got you so excited?” I asked through a yawn.

“We get to talk to the kids when we get home.”

Somewhere in the chaos of the afternoon, I’d forgotten about the adoption, but Jase hadn’t. My guess was it’s how he got through that horrible browbeating by the press that resulted in zero resolution.

I didn’t respond other than to squeeze his hand. There was little doubt in my mind the kids would be elated, but it would mean the world to them that he’d asked.

~~~

The kids had been ecstatic and couldn’t wait to change their last name. I was thrilled, but at the same time, a tiny piece of me died inside. I knew Ryan didn’t reside in my children’s last name, but they were constant reminders of him, and regardless of how things ended, I’d loved him beyond measure. There was no one left to provide them with glimpses of the wonderful man their father had been, and while their last name was only a word, it wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d give away. But there I was, smiling through the last little bit of grief Ryan still held in my life.

With the kids on board, the decision had been made. It was one I was happy with, and I couldn’t wait for us all to legally be a family. Once we had the kids in bed, we retreated to the sanctity of our room. Jase could sense something was off, but instead of probing, he threw me a T-shirt and a pair of his boxers like he used to do—covering me in everything him. After I had changed, I crawled into bed next to my husband and curled into his side.