Page 79 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"Will that help?" Ethan's voice was carefully neutral.

"It might. It gives the board a reason to show leniency—acknowledging the violations while crediting the ultimate outcome." Richard's tone warmed slightly. "The judge specifically noted that your actions, while ethically problematic in timing, demonstrated 'extraordinary integrity and commitment to protecting vulnerable community members from sophisticated financial predation.'"

"But they're still moving forward with formal charges."

"Yes. But formal charges with judicial support for leniency are very different from formal charges seeking maximum penalties. This suggests suspension with eventual reinstatement rather than permanent disbarment."

Suspension instead of permanent disbarment. Still losing his license, still facing professional consequences, but not permanent career destruction.

"When will we know for sure?" I asked.

"The disciplinary hearing is scheduled for two weeks from now. They'll present their case, Ethan presents his defense, and the board makes a final determination." Richard paused. "I'll represent you, Ethan. Pro bono. We'll build the best defense possible."

After hanging up, Ethan sat quietly, processing.

"Two weeks," he said finally. "Two weeks until we know whether I keep any version of my law license."

"And in the meantime?" I asked.

"In the meantime, we live our lives. We run the bakery. We prepare for the hearing. We build the future we decided on last night." He stood, pulling me close. "Because regardless of what the state bar decides, my commitment doesn't change. I'm here. With you. Building this."

Tessa cleared her throat from across the kitchen. "Okay, I'm going to say what everyone's thinking but is too polite to mention: you two need to officially announce the living situation. Because Ethan showing up at dawn looking like he slept here is going to generate gossip, and you might as well control the narrative."

"He's moving in," I said simply. "Not temporarily, not 'we'll see how it goes'—just moving in. He's giving up his hotel room and officially living in my cottage."

"Finally." Tessa grinned. "About time you two stopped pretending this was casual."

The rest of Saturday passed in Sweetheart Week chaos—tourists, special orders, the farmers market event where Ethan and I worked the booth together, selling heart-shaped pastéis de nata to couples celebrating love.

It felt symbolic. Standing there beside Ethan, building the life we'd promised each other one small moment at a time.

Sunday morning, I woke to Ethan already on a call with the prosecutor, going over grand jury testimony. He mouthed "sorry" when he saw I was awake.

I just smiled and went to shower. This was our life now—legal calls and bakery work and stolen moments between crises.

By Sunday afternoon, news of the criminal indictments had broken. My phone filled with articles: "Investment Group Indicted for Fraud," "Lopez Island Case Leads to Criminal Charges," "Whistleblower Attorney's Evidence Prompts Grand Jury Action."

And in every article, Ethan's name. His ethics violations. The ongoing debate about whether he was a hero or a criminal.

"How do you handle this?" I asked, watching him read coverage with practiced detachment. "Seeing your entire career analyzed by strangers on the internet?"

"I focus on what matters." He set down his phone. "The fraud is exposed. Charges are filed. Justice is happening. That's what matters. Everything else is just noise."

"Even if the noise costs you your license?"

"Even then." He pulled me close. "Because I'd rather lose my license doing the right thing than keep it by staying silent. And I'd rather face professional consequences with you beside me than face success alone."

My phone buzzed. My mother: "Saw the news coverage. Your lawyer friend seems very brave. Or very foolish. Possibly both. Are you sure about this, querida?"

I typed back: "Very sure. He's moving in with me. We're building a life together. It's messy and complicated and I've never been more certain of anything."

Her response came quickly: "Then I'm happy for you. Love should be messy and complicated and certain all at once. Your father and I were like that. Hold onto it."

I showed Ethan the message.

"Your mother approves?"

"Apparently. She's comparing us to her and my father, which is basically her highest compliment."