Page 228 of The Lies We Play

“The conservatorship exists on the basis of paperwork his family filed at the time of the accident. That paperwork is fraudulent. They claimed, among other things, that Halston’s next of kin were his stepmother and his cousin, Everett.”

I narrow my eyes.

“But I’m his next of kin.” The words come out fast, hard enough that even I flinch. “Creed was his emergency contact.”

“They never let me get close to him,” Creed growls.

The sound travels through the screen and into a place in me that never stopped recognizing him.

“They never let me get to him,” he repeats, lower. “Or to you.”

There it is.

One of the fears Creed had when Hal and I married. What if no one recognized his right as the third spouse? What if a hospital, a court, a family with the correct last name decided he was nothing? What if the law took one look at what we were and chose the cleanest lie?

What if he could not be the person we needed because the world refused to give him a title?

“Creed,” Fitz says, gentle but firm. “Focus. We can deal with your anger later. Call your therapist—I’m sure she’s used to your emergencies.”

Creed’s jaw moves once. Twice. Then he nods as if to say, Continue, but please note I am mentally burning this entire system to ash.

I almost smile.

Which is demented, considering the conversation.

Still.

That, too, is familiar.

Fitz looks back at me. “I have spent the last two days reviewing the original filings. There is sufficient evidence that the family knew about you and chose not to inform the court. That is fraud against the court. It is a felony. It is also, more importantly for our purposes today, the cleanest legal mechanism by which Halston’s conservatorship can be dissolved.”

Creed says, very quietly, “Fitz.”

Fitz raises one hand. “I am getting there, Creed.”

He looks at me.

“I am asking you to come to New York as Halston Saint Claire’s wife. To file a petition to dissolve the conservatorship on grounds of fraud. The petition has the strongest standing if it is filed by you, in person, with the marriage certificate in hand. The court will move faster on a petition filed by a spouse than it will on a petition filed by Halston himself, because a petition filed by Halston can be dismissed as a function of the very cognitive instability the family has been cultivating. A petition filed by you won’t.”

I look at the screen.

At Creed, who appears to be sitting perfectly still through sheer violence of will. He has opinions. Many opinions. Possibly an entire epic saga of opinions. He isn’t sharing them.

That scares me more than if he had shouted.

“Creed?”

He shakes his head.

There is something there. Something he is holding back because he thinks restraint is noble when really it is just another way for men to be infuriating with excellent tailoring and catastrophic emotional availability.

“I need to know what you’re thinking,” I say.

“This is not my decision.”

“I understand it’s not your decision. I’m asking what you think.”

Fitz sighs. “You can tell her, Creed.”