4. Cade
4
CADE
K ennedy Hayes. Paralegal professional. Perfect interview responses, impeccable GPA, and stellar recommendations. The words spin around on the page and inside my head. All I can see when I look at the resume and the notes is her name: Kennedy. The one that got away.
Carmen’s recommendation is that we hire her. She’s convinced that out of all the applicants, Kennedy has the most promise.
For the sake of my own comfort, I want to say no. But for Kennedy’s sake—and to satisfy the firm’s immediate needs—I know I should follow Carmen’s recommendation.
Ever since I was young, I dreamed of being an attorney, though my enthusiasm for it occasionally plateaued. But Kennedy? She had a unique passion for law, one I didn’t think could ever be extinguished. Not even after we broke up. Apparently, I was right.
My chest tightens so much that I feel the urge to loosen my tie.
I check my watch, and proceed to carry on, to go through the motions of my day.
But I can’t stop mentally replaying the interview.
Over the years, I’ve developed a pretty strong poker face. Whether in the courtroom or in the context of personal matters, I’ve become adept at maintaining an impenetrable exterior. It’s a skill I first learned during our breakup, a pivotal time in my life. Letting go of Kennedy was a turning point, and I learned some profound life lessons along the way.
Sure, my actions might seem callous to outsiders, but my priority was always what I believed was best for her and for us, even on days when doubt crept in.
It’s bizarre how her presence can still stir me a decade later. Just looking into her green eyes tested my self-control.
I wasn’t exaggerating when I said Kennedy was the one who got away. Those memories linger in the story of my life like an unresolved chapter. But sometimes you just have to pull out… no pun intended. A few years back, I was determined to fuck enough women to get Kennedy out of my head—or die trying.
Not a bad way to go, if you ask me.
I glance at my watch, aware that I can’t let myself get sidetracked.
The ongoing renovations are proving to be a headache, especially since they weren’t supposed to disrupt our workdays whatsoever. Internet and email have been down all day. Everything is supposed to be back to normal by tomorrow, but right now, it feels like chaos.
Shaking off the unease I feel in my gut, I head out to a client meeting with Soren, my right-hand man who’s been with me through thick and thin, and fully immerse myself in one of our cases.
The distraction works well until I get back later in the afternoon and Carmen comes into my office.
“How do you feel about Kennedy Hayes?” she asks casually, though in reality, there’s nothing casual for me about that question. I’m a professional. Emotions don’t guide or sway me, period.
But the question about Kennedy is loaded, to say the least.
She presses me when I offer no immediate response. “Should we hire her, Mr. Gladwell?”
“Yes,” I reply briskly, making a split-second decision. “She’ll be a good fit. Let her know she has the job.”
Saying the words aloud feels like I’m hammering a nail in my own coffin. Not that I believe Kennedy will bury me. Torture me? Perhaps. But on reflection, I can’t say which is worse. In the end, if things go south, I might opt for the coffin.
But why dwell on the past? When Kennedy was my girlfriend, I was in law school and she was only in college. Those relationships rarely work out. It’s best to let bygones be bygones.
Besides, this is a professional setting, and we’re adults.
We will behave professionally.
Case closed.