"No."
We sit there a little longer.
"How do you feel?" he asks finally.
I think about it.
"Relieved," I say. "And a little bit angry… but mostly relieved."
"Yeah." He turns to look at me. "Me too. All three."
We walk out to the parking lot in the afternoon sun. The sky is too bright. The world looks the same as it did three hours ago. Cars in the lot, a couple arguing on the steps, a guy in a tie eating a sandwich on a bench. None of them knows what just happened to us. It feels strange that the world doesn't know.
Tyler stops me at the car.
"Red."
"Yeah."
"Come here."
I go. He pulls me in, and we stand there for a long time. I cry into his shoulder, and he cries into my hair, and after a while we're both laughing a little because it's over, and Harper stays, and weare standing in a parking lot in April crying about it like we've just won a war.
Which, in a way, we have.
He pulls back to look at me. His eyes are red-rimmed and bright and completely mine.
"I had a whole speech prepared," he says.
"For after the verdict?"
"For if we got the clean win."
"You can still give it."
He shakes his head.
"It was a clean-win speech, Red. We got a real-life win. I'm gonna need to sit with this and find better words for it."
"Okay."
"Just one thing."
"Okay."
"You and Harper. You're it. The whole thing. Whatever six months from now looks like, whatever ten years from now looks like, you're it. I need you to know that."
"I know."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kisses me. Not the parking-lot dramatic kind. The quiet, certain kind. Both of us tired. Both of us a little wrung out. Both of us here.
"Let's go home, Red."
Home.