19. Cade
19
CADE
A few hours later, we’re still in the thick of it. Stacks of papers, coffee cups, and snack wrappers are scattered around the room. We’re on a roll, researching, typing, passing drafts back and forth. We work well together, which is no surprise considering how much of a help she was during law school.
Once in a while I catch her staring at my lips and my hands, my shoulders, and other parts of my body. With her sending me all those signals, it’s like she’s daring me to make a move.
So, I do.
“Why didn’t you go to law school?” I ask.
I know it’s a sensitive subject. But bringing it up now, while our relationship is on the mend, might elicit some insight into her decision.
By this point, any monetary or other obstacles she mentioned should have been resolved. She’s more than cut out for the law, and even now as a paralegal, she’s already outshining some of her more advanced colleagues with her depth of knowledge and meticulous and, at times, quite unexpected approach.
She sets down her pen and tosses her head back with a dramatic groan. “Oh, no. Come on, Cade.” Kennedy comically lets her arms flop at her sides, and I have to cover my mouth to stifle a laugh at her theatrical display. “ Not again . Haven’t we already gone over this? You even asked me in my interview. When you ‘supposedly’ couldn’t remember me.”
“I remember everything.”
“So, stop asking. I told you then, it just wasn’t in the cards for me.” She sits up, glances at her watch and shrugs nonchalantly. “Listen, I know we’re having a blast here and all, but I’d like to make it home eventually. So do you think we can get back to work?”
I meet her gaze, knowing my continued questioning will piss her off if I’m not careful, so I try to keep my tone as impassive as possible. “Kennedy, if I thought this was you being pragmatic, I wouldn’t give you such a hard time. But it’s more than that, and you know it. I just don’t understand what’s stopping you. You’re just as good as any other experienced Columbia or Harvard law student working here. Seriously.”
“Which makes me a great paralegal,” she replies with a halfhearted smirk. “Don’t you think I’m a valuable resource in my current position?”
“Undoubtedly,” I answer. “But consider that you’re exerting as much effort as your colleagues, if not more, yet you’re receiving a mere fraction of the compensation they’re getting. Don’t you want to be a partner somewhere one day? See your name on the wall? Receive the recognition you deserve?”
Kennedy blows out a breath, and I can tell she’s trying not to get upset. “Drop it, Cade. Please.”
Taking off my reading glasses, I toss them onto the stack of contracts in front of me. I set my pen down, roll up my sleeves, and turn to stare her dead in the eyes. “No, I’m not going to drop it. Just tell me: What’s holding you back?”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “Why do you keep asking? Why do you even want to know? It’s none of your business,” she shoots back, her tone tinged with defiance. “Can we please keep working so we can get this done?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Are you for real? Why do you keep pestering me! It’s maddening!”
“Good! That’s the point. It’s the anger in us that drives us to succeed.”
“It doesn’t . Don’t you get it? It paralyzes me.”
“Nonsense, Kennedy. You’re too scared to answer honestly.”
She barks a snort-laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Ah, the old ‘turn the tables’ tactic. Classic move. Sorry, Kennedy. This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“So sue me!”
“You wish!” I say with a smirk, trying to defuse the situation a little.
I only want to get to the heart of the matter because Kennedy holds so much potential, and I would like to see her succeed. I want to know what’s holding her back. But she appears to have things locked up tight, unwilling to share the true reason that she’s never pursued a law degree.
“That’s it?” I ask. “That’s all you got? You want me to let you off that easy?”
“Fine by me,” she replies casually, shrugging it off.
Okay, fuck that, I’m not having it . Let’s crank up the heat.
“What was that little office panties prank really about?” I ask with a slight lift of my chin. I maintain eye contact. “Because I’m starting to think it was really a sad and desperate attempt to get my attention.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shrieks, flying to her feet.
Well, that was effortless. “Just stating facts. From day one, you’ve been broadcasting more chaotic signals than a faulty radio tower.”
“I have not!”
I fix her with my patented “don’t lie to me” gaze. Kennedy makes it too easy. For a moment, she stares at me, blushing. I see her trying to assess my seriousness. Oh, yeah, I’m serious.
But then she catches herself.
I already know the script she’s about to recite. Deny, deny, deny—with a sprinkle of innocence. Then the classic “Let’s never speak about this again.” And just when I think it’s done, she’ll demonstrate her grand exit. Predictable as clockwork.
“I told you already: That dumb prank was aimed at Mr. Dahlberg, not you. Can we just drop it? You didn’t fire me, so if it’s just as well, I’d rather never talk about it again.”
Okay, got that right.
But surprisingly, instead of flouncing off in her usual dramatic fashion, she sits back down.
We lapse into silence for a beat.
Her eyes drop back to her papers, and then she starts tapping her pen.
I steal a glance at my watch, then I rise from my seat, tucking my glasses into my shirt’s breast pocket. “Time to roll, I have that court appointment waiting,” I inform her as I make my way over to the file shelf in the corner by the door to retrieve the necessary documents. I do have a couple of minutes to spare, but I want to gauge her reaction, provoke a response.
Since the meeting is outside regular working hours, I didn’t bring up her attendance. I’d rather she focus her efforts on Mary’s case.
I grab the two folders I need.
“You know what? I’ve reconsidered,” she fires back, her voice tinged with frustration and hurt. “I’m not letting you off so easily. This isn’t just about you—it’s about me too. It’s not like you ever bothered to give me a real answer.”
Folders in hand, I turn to her. “What answer?” I counter, my tone calculating, ready to dissect her argument.
Even so, I brace myself.
Her spontaneous inquiries and that fire in her eyes have a way of throwing me off balance.