We maintain appearances, holding hands as we leave the courthouse. The flashing of cameras as we exit the building is sufficiently blinding that it’s difficult for me initially to discern the location of the car that LeMarcus has ordered for us. But it’s double-parked on Centre Street, a sign in the window that says “Dana L.,” as if leaving off my last initial would fool the press.

As the car begins to pull away from the shouting reporters, Stuart says, “I think that went okay.”

From the look in his eye, it’s clear to me that he doesn’t understand what’s actually occurring in the courtroom. Perhaps that’s because he hasn’t heard the testimony firsthand, but I actually think it’s because Stuart can’t shake his fantasy that we’re destined to live happily ever after.

“Stuart, you need to prepare yourself for the fact that I’m going to be found guilty. You’re going to be the one who has to explain it to Jacob. The minute after the jury’s verdict, they’re going to revoke my bail and take me away in handcuffs.”

I’m trying to scare him straight. But I can tell that my words don’t have the slightest effect.

“I know you’re worried. But I know—not just think, but know, and know from the bottom of my heart—that it’s going to be okay. The people on the jury, they understand how much we love each other, and that we have a little boy who depends on us . . . on both of us. They know that nothing they do is going to bring Lauren back to life, but if they convict you, they destroy three other lives.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” I say, even though I have little hope that God is going to listen to Stuart’s plea.

When we arrive home, Livie tells us that Jacob has already eaten and taken a bath. “He’s in his bedroom. He’ll be excited you’re both home.”

Livie’s comment about dinner reminds me that I’ll need to figure out my own meal tonight. Since the trial has begun, I’ve survived on whatever takeout LeMarcus had served me.

I look over at Stuart. As if he can read my mind, he says, “I’ll either whip something up for dinner or order in. You should go see Jacob.”

I don’t have to be asked twice. I literally run up the stairs to my son’s bedroom.

Jacob is wearing a Batman costume as his pajamas. It’s complete with a cape, but thankfully not the cowl.

“How’s my best little man today?”

“Good.”

“How was school?”

“Good.”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“No. Anything you want to tell me?”

“That I love you.”