Convicted (Consequences)

masked the growing fear coiling through her thoughts. “Tony, this isn’t debatable—I’m not asking. We aren’t staying here and worrying. Besides, Emily is my sister—I’m going.”
    Breaking their stare-off, Claire ended the conversation by surrendering herself to his embrace. She concentrated on the steady beat of his heart as her head rose and fell with his deep exasperated breaths. The sounds resonating from his chest pacified her. She fought the desire to stay this way forever—safe and secure in her husband’s arms.
    Claire had played this game before. She’d just called his bluff. Now, it was up to Tony. He needed to decide to call, raise the stakes, or fold . She didn’t think folding was an option. Although he wasn’t happy with her proclamation, and it jeopardized his sense of control, they both knew the money to pay Phil—keep them hidden—and secure their return—technically, belonged to her. Ultimately, Claire would decide who would travel—and who wouldn’t.
    As minutes ticked by, Claire lay silently in his embrace. She didn’t need to see his eyes—the color didn’t matter. If she wanted to go, then she was going. Claire could’ve yelled or fought to make him understand; instead she waited. Tony needed to justify this reality on his terms. When his arms squeezed her tighter, she knew his decision was made. With a sigh, Tony acquiesced, “I’ll call Phil. We’ll see what he can do; however, I’m confronting Catherine alone . I don’t want you or Nichol in her presence—unless she’s in police custody”—he kissed the top of her head—“Hell, even then—no, I’d don’t want Catherine to ever be near Nichol!”
    Claire nodded in agreement. He believed he’d made a compromise. Truthfully, she’d won, yet if making his declaration helped Tony accept her company—she didn’t care. Claire didn’t want Catherine near Nichol either. Her priority was keeping both Nichol and Tony safe. After they assured Emily and John’s safety, Claire wanted her family back in paradise. Eventually, Tony would need to surrender to the FBI—it was inevitable, but she wanted her nine more months of paradise.
    The last five months had been magical. Tony and Claire were finally partners with all the ups and downs accompanying those roles. They didn’t always agree; however, after a life with false conformity, they learned disagreeing wasn’t negative. It didn’t mean disobedience or insubordination; instead, it meant discussion, voicing opinions, perhaps arguing, and then making up. Even this last conversation illustrated their recently established equality. They’d faced the demons of their past and chosen a future.
    Parenthood was an excellent induction—it took them both into uncharted waters—and evened the playing field—which admittedly had at one time been tilted in Tony’s favor. Every day with Nichol was an exciting new adventure. Claire didn’t want it to end any sooner than necessary. For the first time, she had her dream. It was the relationship she witnessed with her parents and grandparents. At one time, she believed happily ever after was outside of her reach. Now, it was her reality. She wasn’t ready for that to end. After all, it wasn’t supposed to end. The fairy tales her dad read to her as a child ended with— they lived happily ever after .
    Claire wanted to believe that was the end of their story, but she feared it wasn’t.
     
     
    That night, Claire lay in bed and listened to the sounds of her paradise. Unless she concentrated—the ever present surf, no longer registered. What brought the smile to her face and peace to her heart were the sounds coming from the attached nursery. The rockers of the chair creaked against the bamboo floor. Claire closed her eyes and pictured Tony holding Nichol.
    Tonight, their daughter had made it all the way until 3:00 AM, before waking to eat. Before her cries registered to Claire, Tony was out of bed. Minutes later, he brought a freshly changed, cooing bundle to Claire. The middle of the night feeding was their special time. It was as if their room—their bed—and their family existed in a bubble which no outside force could penetrate; then, as was their routine, when Nichol’s belly was full, Tony told Claire to sleep, took their daughter to the attached nursery, and rocked her back to sleep.
    Normally, Claire would drift away as his deep baritone voice spoke softly in the other room. Some nights, she’d try to