A murmur moved through the courtroom.
Preston turned toward me so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
“You were a lawyer?”
His voice carried farther than he intended.
I looked at him.
“You never asked.”
For seven years, Preston had known I possessed a law degree. What he did not know was the extent of my military legal career. I had rarely spoken about it because I had wanted our marriage to be about who we were together, not what I had accomplished before meeting him.
His family had interpreted that privacy as a lack of ambition.
They had been wrong.
Judge Morrison interrupted the growing whispers.
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