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  OTHER BOOKS BY BLYTHE RIPPON

  The Love and Law Series

  Barring Complications

  Benched

  Stand Alone

  Stowe Away

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by Blythe Rippon

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  About Blythe Rippon

  Other Books from Ylva Publishing

  Barring Complications

  The Lavender List

  Cast Me Gently

  Four Steps

  Coming from Ylva Publishing

  Under Parr

  Pieces

  Acknowledgments

  The fight for LGBTQ rights continues after marriage equality, and a relationship continues after “happily ever after.” This novel tackles questions about what comes next, legally and romantically, for Victoria and Genevieve.

  I’m exceedingly grateful for all those who have helped me develop this story. Michelle Aguilar’s attention to characterization and narrative arc has taught me so much. I really appreciate Astrid’s patience and belief in me. My parents and parents-in-law have supported me through my journey as a fiction writer, including reading drafts and helping give me time to write. My kids are stunning and fill me with more joy than I can handle. And my wife inspires me every day to fight to make this world a more just place.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all those who fight for LGBTQ rights, whether in a courtroom, on the telephone, or in the streets. And it’s for all those in the LGBTQ community who feel alienated and outcast. You are not alone.

  Chapter 1

  The sound technician clipped a wireless microphone onto Victoria’s lapel, then stood back and inspected its placement. He inched it up before moving away to make room for the makeup artist, who applied more powder to Victoria’s forehead, scrutinized her face, and walked off.

  Surrounded by camera people and sound engineers bustling back and forth, Victoria nevertheless felt alone in the studio. She ignored the slight tremble in her fingers as she sat in the interview chair and wiped her hands on her suit skirt. Add this one to the many surreal moments in her life since her appointment as a justice—all these people were there because of her, but none of them were there for her.

  When she’d seen the photo on the popular blog I Fought the Law—a picture of her and Genevieve a breath away from kissing—she’d joked about it, impressed with her own blasé response. That, however, was in the privacy of her own kitchen, before the major media outlets picked up the story. Less than two hours later, it flooded the news cycle: Supreme Court Justice Victoria Willoughby, in an undeniably intimate moment with LGBTQ rights advocate Genevieve Fornier, who recently convinced Willoughby and her colleagues to expand marriage rights for the LGBTQ community.

  Now that picture seemed to be everywhere. She’d told herself in her kitchen that day that she was prepared for the media firestorm and potential fallout. Her bravado failed her now, as she prepared to discuss it on camera for the first time since the story broke.

  At first, she’d been vaguely grateful for the photo’s timing. The Court was at the end of its session, and her first impulse had been to hop a plane to England. She was overdue to visit her father, after all.

  Genevieve had said that “visit” sounded an awful lot like “run away.”

  Victoria pointed out that the two didn’t even alliterate.

  Since then, she’d been inundated with a steady stream of invitations to appear on news programs and pundit-led talk shows. Bill O’Reilly had, unsurprisingly, called for her to resign and, more importantly, answer for her lifestyle on The O’Reilly Factor. A few Republicans in the House had echoed his call for her to step down, although they framed their concerns less sensationally. She’d respectfully declined them all, and thus far the political fallout had been nothing but bluster.

  The media, of course, was a different issue. The reporters were relentless, and now half a dozen cameras were pointed at her.

  “You need to do They’ve Got Issues,” Genevieve had insisted when she heard about the invitation. “It’s the most respected, non-biased of the Sunday morning news shows.”

  So now, one month later, she was on the set waiting to be interviewed about, among other things, her private life.

  The sound tech returned to her chair. “Justice Willoughby, we’re almost ready. We need to test your microphone. Please say something. Anything other than ‘testing one-two-three.’”

  “Testing four-five-six,” Victoria said.

  He rolled his eyes and walked away mumbling, “Levels are good.”

  She studied her hands for a moment, fascinated by the tremors in her fingers, and focused on taking deep, calming breaths. After a moment, the show’s host, Vishal Patel, quietly sat down in the plush armchair opposite Victoria. He regarded her with a calm smile, and she studied him. He was strikingly handsome, like most talk show hosts, with jet-black hair that had been expertly coiffed. She hoped the spark in his deep brown eyes indicated excitement at interviewing her, rather than anything more opportunistic.

  “Do you need anything, Justice Willoughby? Water, or anything else to drink, or…” He waved his hand in the vague direction of offstage.

  She briefly considered making a joke about liquid courage, but the potential headlines that might create stopped her. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He was taller than she expected, and his smile more genuine. The filter of television didn’t do him any favors.

  “I apologize that we weren’t able to send out a list of questions in advance of the interview. Journalistic integrity, you understand.”

  “Of course,” Victoria said.

  “Just remember: I’m not the enemy.”

  Victoria contemplated that. She was a confirmed justice with a lifetime appointment; even if he were an enemy, there wasn’t much he could do to hurt her. But that thought felt way too rational when set against the torrent of emotions churning in her gut.

  “I’ve never given an interview like this before,” she confessed.

  “Ignore the camera, and imagine that you and I are having coffee together, getting to know one another.”

  It was a nice idea in theory, but the irritating tug of the microphone pack on her suit didn’t leave much room for imaginary scenarios. She licked her lips and said, “In that case, Earl Grey sounds great.”

  Patel nodded and waved over an assistant, who took her order. As they waited for the tea, the sound tech returned and fussed with Patel’s microphone. After confirming something via his headset, he announced, “On in three,” and disappeared again.

  The makeup artist returned and fussed with Patel’s foundation. He fidgeted slightly and winced when the brush swiped under his nose. As the makeup tech left, Patel sneezed and rolled his eyes. At least she wasn’t the only one irritated by all the trappings that accompanied on-screen appearances.

  “On in one,” boomed a voice through the sound system just as an assistant placed the Earl Grey on a coaster on the table between her and Patel.

  Victoria licked her lips and blinked a few times. Her contacts had been bugging her recently, and she hoped they wouldn’t dry out during the next half hour. She would have preferred to wear her glasses, but everyone, including her brother Will and her secretary Lynn, told her they would create a glare.

  “Thirty seconds,” came through the sound system. Patel massaged his jaw and cracked his neck to the right before rubbing his hands together like an evil mastermind. Despite his reassurances to the contrary, all he needed was a hairless cat to complete the appearance of a creepy adversary.

  Not the enemy.

  For the first time in her life, Victoria wished she were one of those politicians who had handlers and press secretaries and speechwriters. At the very least, she should have reached out to Alistair and asked for help perfecting her talking points. He was charming and whimsical, and given that he’d been on the Court since before sliced bread, probably had insights she hadn’t considered.

  The show’s jingle was startlingly loud as it blared through the sound system. She plastered on a smile and looked right at the camera.

  “Today on They’ve Got Issues, my guest is Associate Justice Victoria Willoughby, who will talk about her first two years on the United States Supreme Court, the decisions she’s authored, and the now-infamous picture of her with the president of Her Equal Rights, Genevieve Fornier.”

  A large screen behind the cameras showed the broadcast going out to the public. It cut to the photo in question:
She stood inches away from Genevieve, staring at her lips. At least it was a flattering—even sexy—image. The combination of desire and love in Genevieve’s eyes took Victoria’s breath away.

  The camera cut back to Patel and his cheesy grin.

  “Justice Willoughby, thanks for being here with us.”

  “Thank you for having me, Mr. Patel.”

  “Vishal, please.”

  She nodded.

  “You’ve been a justice on the Supreme Court for two terms now. What’s that been like for you?”

  It was predictable, really, for him to lob her a few softball questions before launching a well-aimed fastball. The key for her was not to let her guard down. She took a deep breath and tried to look breezy.

  “It’s been a whirlwind, Vishal. My confirmation, if you remember, was completed immediately before the October conference of the justices two years ago, so I really hit the ground running.”

  Vishal leaned forward and asked in an exaggerated stage whisper, “What are those conferences like?”

  “Confidential,” she said.

  He offered a good-natured laugh. “Surely you can give us some more information than that.”

  “The October conference—like all the conferences throughout our term—is a private gathering. Even the justices’ clerks are not invited. It’s the first formal event of the new term, and we are exceedingly professional. We discuss the cases that have been appealed to the Court, and we vote whether to hear them. Those conferences continue every Friday that we are in session.”

  God, even she was bored with her answer. But then, her goal with this interview was to come across as decidedly boring; she’d had her fill of media attention while the Court was considering the first gay marriage case. Life was easier without reporters harassing her in the grocery store and stalking her at the gym.

  Perhaps in response to her answer’s entertainment level, Patel moved on at a brisk pace. “In your first year on the bench, the Court voted 6-3 to grant federal recognition of gay marriage in Samuels v United States. And in your second year, the Court made gay marriage legal in every state. That case was decided on a closer margin, with the chief justice switching sides to vote against marriage rights. What was all this like for you as the first lesbian justice?”

  There was something about the word lesbian that was always a little jarring to her. Genevieve would argue that it was internalized homophobia, but for Victoria, it was a matter of simple linguistics. Lesbian just didn’t roll off the tongue—anyone’s tongue. Even Patel seemed to hit the word a shade harder than perhaps he intended.

  She cleared her throat. “Both cases certainly felt personal to me, although honestly, most human rights cases feel personal. In both of these cases, there was obviously a moral—and more importantly for me as a jurist—a legal wrong that my colleagues and I had an opportunity to rectify. And both cases were great victories. Yes, I happen to be gay, but there is a profound truth in Dr. King’s words, ‘Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.’ Our decisions in these cases corrected an injustice for a minority group of citizens.”

  She left out any mention of how personally upsetting it was for her when Kellen switched sides with some half-cocked argument about states’ rights.

  “It’s no secret that because of your vote in the Samuels case, you were targeted by a radical, neo-Nazi group called Marriage’s Sacred Protector and assaulted in your own house. If you had known what would happen, would you have changed your vote?”

  The question surprised her. Rather than digging into the sordid details of her assault or asking her why she didn’t recuse herself from the case, Patel had given her a more nuanced question—one that offered her the opportunity to reinforce her image as a jurist with integrity.

  Not the enemy.

  “Absolutely not, Vishal, and the other justices agree. We aren’t doing our jobs if we let fringe political or religious viewpoints dictate our votes. It’s rare that cases come with personal ramifications the way this one did, but we consider cases based on the Constitution and our consciences.”

  “That sounds, I don’t know, noble?”

  “Executing the office to which I’ve been confirmed isn’t noble. I’m simply doing my job, the way most Americans do every day.”

  Questions and answers continued in this more or less easy way, touching on her current book project and her interest in cooking, until Vishal paused, and Victoria knew what was coming.

  “Madam Justice, a month ago, a blog called I Fought the Law posted a picture of you with Genevieve Fornier. The picture looks intimate. Now, I know a lot of our viewers want to hear juicy details about the nature of your relationship. But this isn’t Access Hollywood; this is a program dedicated to US politics and government. So what I’m most interested in is this: if you and Ms. Fornier continue to have a close personal relationship, how will that relationship affect her participation in HER’s legal cases, should they be argued before the Supreme Court?”

  The baseball-sized knot in her stomach ballooned until it filled her whole abdomen and worked its way up her chest and into her throat. The answer to that question was far bigger than any sound bite she could offer Vishal.

  “It’s a little premature for me to offer you any kind of truthful answer,” Victoria fumbled haltingly. She and Genevieve had danced around this difficult conversation for about a year now but hadn’t exactly engaged in any meaningful discussion about the effect their romance would have on their professional lives. “I suppose we’ll just take things on a case-by-case basis.”

  Grinning, Patel bumped his knee against hers. “Pun intended, I assume.”

  She groaned. “Totally inadvertent, I assure you.”

  “Happens to the best of us,” he said. “Justice Willoughby, it was a real pleasure to chat with you. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule.”

  She shook his hand warmly. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Vishal.”

  The jingle blared again before someone announced through the sound system, “We’re off.”

  As she unclasped the microphone from her lapel, her fingers steady now, Vishal said, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  In spite of herself, she agreed. “I appreciate your…” She wasn’t sure how to finish. Only minimally invading my privacy?

  “Well, I’m quite a fan, you know.”

  “Fan?” Victoria asked. Evidently that’s what happened when your personal life was the stuff of tabloids: people rooted for you—or against you.

  “Well, yes. Of you and Ms. Fornier. A lot of our interview questions came from brainstorming sessions with the network, but that last question was one hundred percent mine. I’m delighted for the two of you, but I’m also a little concerned that the gay rights community will be sacrificing one of its most effective advocates if Ms. Fornier can’t argue at the Supreme Court anymore.”

  The whole event had been surreal. She shook his hand and mumbled some platitude about how lovely it was to meet him.

  As Victoria drove home that night, she replayed his final interview question over and over again. The more she considered it, the further she seemed from a satisfactory response.

  Chapter 2

  It had been a long day for Genevieve, filled with administrative red tape and very little substantive legal work. When she’d first considered HER’s offer to become the organization’s next president, her friends had warned her about this—that she would excel in administration but also dislike it.

  At the time, she had shrugged them off, saying, “I’ll delegate the boring stuff.”

  Admittedly, she was also known for being overly optimistic.

  She was rubbing her temples at her desk when Frank entered her office with a bottle of Pellegrino and two Advil. He deposited them next to the binder she’d been slogging through and gently slid it from her hands before closing it.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your migraine,” he said, “but I thought you might like to know that Nic Ford is stepping down as executive director of NCLR.”

  It made fuzzy spots float around her eyes to look up so quickly, but she couldn’t help it. “Are you kidding?” Why didn’t she tell me herself?

  “They just sent around an e-mail blast,” he confirmed.

  Genevieve nodded, which made her wince, and she was grateful he closed the door quietly. Migraines brought out the worst in her—it was silly and selfish that her first response was to wonder why Nic hadn’t told her personally. Then again, in the past few months, the two of them had had little communication. Genevieve had been wrapped up in the throes of a now very public relationship with a sitting Supreme Court justice. And in addition to overseeing all of HER’s operations, the two cases she had spent the last year arguing hadn’t helped.