(Sloane)
We went to a small Italian restaurant a few blocks from the courthouse. Mom insisted on celebrating, and I didn't have the energy to argue.
The four of us sat in a corner booth. Mom and Dad on one side, Mara and me on the other. Rebecca had declined the invitation, saying she had another case to prep for.
The waiter brought menus and water. Mom ordered a bottle of wine for Mara and me. Dad ordered coffee.
"So," Mom said once the waiter left. "How are you feeling?"
"Relieved," I said. "It's finally over."
"You were very composed in there," Dad said. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, Dad."
The waiter came back with the wine. He poured two glasses and left the bottle on the table.
Mara picked up her glass. "To freedom."
I picked up mine. "To freedom."
We clinked glasses and dra
