29. Willa
Lawyers, man.
That was it; that was the whole statement.
Actually, I had a lot more to say on the subject. They waved their pursuit of the truth in your face, along with how burdened they were by all those billable hours, as though they weren’t going to wreck your life with both.
The absolute gall.
When Nate told me he’d left the office early so we could have dinner together, my surge of excitement had been immediately eclipsed by everything Gil had dumped in my lap. Did I tell Nate about the run-in, spilling the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Did I hint and nudge? Or did I plead the fifth, wash my hands of the entire situation, and tell the grown men to deal with their own mess themselves?
Expelling a long breath to prepare myself for whatever scenario unfolded, I shifted the box of pizza onto one hip and entered Nate’s place. He’d told me he’d likely be on the phone or buried under a stack of files, so to just come on in.
“Honey, I’m ho—ere!” Without thinking, I’d almost said home, but I didn’t know if he’d find it funny. Over the past week and a half, I’d gone from feeling rock solid about everything between me and Nate to finding patches of shaky ground. I knew he was stressed, but it’d been a long time since we laughed, talked the way we used to, or made music together.
Was that a mark for keeping the incident with Gil to myself so that I wouldn’t upset him further? I didn’t want him to think I was hiding something from him, though, and I had a feeling that no matter what I did, his uncles would keep bombarding him.
Not that it’d be easy to mention anything since Nate was on the phone, a thick legal document in front of him, so engrossed I don’t think he registered my presence until I was directly in front of him.
As I bent to place the pizza box on the coffee table, he wrapped his hand around my thigh. He kept it secured in place as I twisted slightly to peer down at him, and my entire being lit up like a sparkler, burning fast and bright, all for him.
He gifted me with half a smile, pivoting the mouthpiece of his phone upward so I could lean down and kiss him. As soon as my lips were on his, everything felt right with the world again.
“I’ll grab plates,” I mouthed, gesturing toward the kitchen, taking comfort in his hesitance to let me go.
A few minutes later, I was seated at his side, downing cheesy slices of pepperoni.
“Do you see what I’m talking about?” Nate asked, and when he went to dip his crust in the marinara sauce that’d come with the garlic cheesy bread, he missed. Crumbs and a spot of grease remained on the black glass top, and I don’t even think he noticed there wasn’t sauce on it as he jammed it in his mouth.
I couldn’t make out the words on the other side, only that the person was distressed.
“It’s not a little thing to miss, Christina. It’s a huge fucking thing that you glazed right over. The person has a history of suing and spends more time fishing for a payout than working, and we can use that to discredit them. We can’t afford to make a mistake like that. It’ll cost both us and the client, and result in the loss of possibly millions of dollars.”
From what I gathered, she was apologizing, and I winced on her behalf. I wanted to nudge Nate and suggest he go easy on her, but I didn’t want his ire aimed at me either.
“Make sure that you do,” he said, then reached up and tapped his AirPod. He lifted out a piece of pizza, bit off the end, and sat back with a sigh.
“Long day?”
“Long day, long week.” He scrubbed the hand not holding the slice of pepperoni over his face. “Long everything. And suddenly I’m surrounded by incompetence, as if everyone I work with has forgotten how to do their jobs right when I need them most.”
Okay, I’d decided against saying anything, but wasn’t he being unnecessarily harsh? “I’m sure everyone’s stressed out and feeling the pressure. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“I don’t—not with this stuff. That’s why I can’t trust anyone else to comb through the files. I’ve got to read through every single one myself, like I didn’t have enough to do already. But who needs sleep? I might as well give up eating and shitting next.”
“As long as it’s not sex,” I said, waggling my eyebrows as I nudged his side, and he barely smiled, my joke not lightening the mood as much as I hoped. I placed my hand on his biceps, doing my best to suffuse him with comfort like he’d done to me when I arrived. “Hey. You’re only one person, and that’s why you have a team. It’ll all work out.”
“Yeah, because I’ll make it work.” He grumbled, folded his pizza slice in half, and shoved the rest in his mouth. Then he wiped his fingertips on a napkin and lifted another file.
I nearly asked what I could do to help, but we’d already been through that before. I didn’t have the skills or the clearance. As I sat there, wondering if I’d come over just to watch him read files, the doubts I was sure I’d ridded myself of jabbed at me, growing sharper and doing more damage the longer I held back.
I understood he was busy, but so was I, and I was the one putting in all the effort. He hadn’t asked about my work or my music, or anything other than ask if I could pick up the food so we didn’t have to wait so long to eat. Was I his girlfriend or his personal assistant he occasionally fucked?
Maybe I was too needy, but that didn’t stop me from needing certain things from our relationship. I’d already been down this path before, and it was one I promised to never even dip a toe into again.
“Hey, remember how I told you I’d finished my song?”
“Shit. I totally forgot that you asked if I’d get on the piano and help you with the melody. Will you take a raincheck? I just don’t have it in me to deal with that tonight.”
Ouch. My heart splatted as my chest seemed to cave in on itself. No time to “deal with that.” No follow-up questions, like he’d ask me if I were a witness in court. Was that the only way to get his attention?
I’d poured my heart and soul into my music, along with a lot of the emotions I’d experienced while falling for him. While I already figured out how to fix the part of the melody he’d been too busy to help me with, I’d wanted him to hear the song, as the mood of the piece and lyrics pertained to him. But he couldn’t read my mind or know that without me telling him, so I did my best to bury my hurt and try again. “That’s not exactly?—”
His phone rang, and he lifted a finger and answered it without even checking who it was first. Good to know I was on the very bottom of his list when it came to importance.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Nate replied to whatever the caller had told him. “There’s no way they don’t have any files on the matter. They’re trying to bury evidence. Call the judge right now.” Pause. “I don’t care if he’s at dinner with the pope, asleep, or screwing his wife. You get him on the phone. The less time they have to destroy files, the more information we’ll have to hang them with.”
Nate tapped his AirPod again and turned to me. “Sorry about that. Those bastards are trying to give us the run-around, and they’re about to find out who exactly they’re dealing with.”
“Nathan Fox, Esquire?”
“Damn right. The fact that they’re claiming they don’t have any files means what’s in them could be the huge break we need.”
“I hope it works out in your favor, and I’m sure you’ll use what you find to take it to ’em. Speaking of huge breaks?—”
“Of course, it means dozens, if not hundreds, more files I’ll have to sort through myself, since my paralegal just skims important paragraphs, missing pertinent information, right and left.” He tossed aside the file he’d been flipping through, and I thought, Finally, I’m going to have his full attention.
But then he stood and stretched. “Want something to drink? I’m gonna just grab a beer, since I only have about an hour to spare before I have to dive into the next file, but I have a fully stocked bar.”
“Yeah, I’ll have a glass of wine.” At the sinking sensation that tugged wider at the void that’d begun to form within me, I debated choosing something stronger. What was going to be an already difficult conversation was about to turn into a two-pronged one, barbed and hard to traverse on both sides. “Actually, can you make that a gin and tonic?”
“Anything you want, you got it.”
While I certainly hoped that was true, he’d told me similar the last time my news about the things happening in my career had been overshadowed by his. He’d added I had him as well, but I didn’t. Not all of him. Part of me wished I could settle, but I was too familiar with the pain caused in the wake of that, and again, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t play second fiddle to a man ever again.
Even if that man were the Beyonce of lawyers.