Chapter 5
The only sounds in the office are the buzzing of the fluorescent lights and the erratic beating of my heart.
Last night’s restless sleep kept me more on edge than I care to admit, but being the first one here allows me to grab the documents I forgot in my flustered state last night and get out before seeing anyone.
I’m running on caffeine and anxiety. It’s barely enough.
Last night’s not-so-innocent thoughts of Nash, combined with the dread of this morning, guaranteed that my mind never fully shut off.
The things he said to me keep playing in my mind.
Before I allow him to continue taking up residence in my thoughts, I collect my files and dash for the elevator. I sigh with relief when I arrive to the lobby without stopping.
That same sigh betrays me when I get to my car and slump into the driver’s seat, feeling just how tired I am.
I steal one last glance at the office building and head to court.
It’s still early enough when I get to the courthouse that I beat most of the other attorneys and their clients here.
I spend the morning zoning out and reminding myself to pay attention. I know I need to stay sharp when I’m eventually called.
The courtroom is packed, and watching the buzz of activity around me is better than letting my mind wander where it shouldn’t.
Even with the high energy, I find comfort in how predictable these hearings are. The same arguments made on the same issues, repeating themselves over and over.
Minutes pass like hours, and my exhaustion fades slightly until I glance at my watch. It tells me I still have a full day of waiting ahead. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Nash may be out of sight while I’m here, but I’m dreading how complicated things will be when I’m back at the office. When he flashes me his signature grin or grazes his fingers across mine.
How can I know something is so wrong and still want it so badly? My stomach lurches, and I’m unsure if it’s the lack of sleep, the anticipation, or the fact I haven’t had lunch.
Maybe all of it.
My case is finally called, second to last on the afternoon calendar. I shoot to my feet and adjust my skirt. A tired but genuine smile spreads across my face as I walk to the podium situated before the judge.
There’s a nervousness, a lightheaded adrenaline, that I know will fade the more I do this.
I speak with as much confidence as I can muster after a day of over-caffeinated anticipation, a night of restless sleep, and weeks of temptation and distractions I didn’t count on having when I took this job.
The words are careful, deliberate, well-rehearsed.
And fast. Too fast.
It’s over before I know it.
The judge’s decision is short and direct. “Motion denied.”
The words cut. They wound my pride, but I keep my face neutral and my thoughts focused. I tell myself it’s one minor loss in a sea of inevitable wins and other defeats, that it’s a learning experience.
I gather my files, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear as I bend over to zip my bag. The emptying courtroom matches my head as I let my mind clear of people and thoughts. Cleared of everything but how glad I am to have been anywhere but in the office today.
As I leave the courthouse, I catch myself smiling slightly, proud to have at least survived my first hearing and already planning new arguments for when I have the opportunity to bring more issues before that judge again.
***
The elevator doors glide open, and I step out into the office. It’s almost five, and the office is quiet, almost empty.
I got my wish. A day of peace and a mostly Nash-free Valentine’s Day, with the exception of the numerous times he occupied my thoughts.
I see Maddie in my periphery, hustling to pack her things and head out.
“Attorney Anders!” she chirps, enthusiasm unfazed by a full day at work. “You got a delivery today. I put it on your desk.” She winks. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thanks, Maddie,” I say, trying not to sound too deflated as she brushes past and leaves for the evening.
I round the corner to my office and spot them right away.
Two dozen red roses.
My heart does a small, traitorous flutter when I see them. A twitch that suggests things I don’t want to let myself entertain. But I can’t deny the way it betrays my resolve. Or the giddy smile I can’t keep from my lips.
I place my files on the desk and lift the card nestled between the roses.
“Have dinner with me,” it reads.
No name on the card, but no doubt who they’re from.
I feel dizzy, conflicted. I wonder how far I can let this go and still keep things from unraveling. I know I shouldn’t want this, but everything about this feels impossible to resist. The way he’s already inside my head and getting harder to ignore.
I look through the glass walls of my office and see James. He’s the only one still here, working. The click of his keyboard echoes through the empty office.
He glances up, and I offer a smile and wave goodbye, juggling the roses and my purse as I make my way to the elevator intent on getting home and leaving this day behind me.
My bones ache with defeat as I sink into the driver’s seat of my car.
The glow from the hotel next door catches my eye, its light spilling into the car and covering me like a warm blanket. Inviting, welcoming.
Popping in at the hotel bar for a drink and a quick dinner sounds more appealing than a lonely night at home with a pint of ice cream, a bottle of wine, and Legally Blonde for the thousandth time.
Before I can overthink it, I leave the flowers on the seat, grab my purse, and head for the hotel. It’s an impulsive decision, the kind I usually second-guess. But the idea of being surrounded by people, even if I’m alone, wins over being by myself with my thoughts in my bare apartment.
The lobby exudes elegance with its polished marble floors and columns, accented by touches of gold and crystal. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling casts a warm amber glow, giving the room a cozy atmosphere.
It reminds me of the office in some ways, with its modern and sleek design. But it doesn’t come with the emotional ties that make being in the office harder and harder.
The front desk attendant offers a warm smile. “Good evening. Welcome to the Edison. How can I assist you?”
I give him a soft smile and point in the direction of the bar. My feet move toward the open entrance and don’t stop until I’m seated on a high-backed bar stool.
I hang my purse on my chair and turn back around to prop my elbows on the counter, my chin resting in my hands.
“Long day?” the bartender asks, wiping his hands on a cloth and coming over as soon as I sit down.
He looks to be about my age. Attractive and polished, with dark eyes that seem to catch everything.
Like someone else I know.
“The longest,” I try to say jokingly, but my laugh sounds strained.
He chuckles. ”What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have an espresso martini. And a menu, please. I’ve been in court all day. I’m starving,” I say, offering him more information than I’m sure a stranger cares to hear.
The bartender slides a menu in front of me. “Sure thing,” he says, and I already feel better about choosing this over being alone with my thoughts.
Or Nash’s flowers.
I survey the room as I flip through the menu. Couples sit close and share appetizers, reach across tables to brush hands, graze knees. Other lone travelers nurse drinks with tired expressions, their days reflected in their postures.
“Ready to order?” he asks, sliding my martini to me.
“Yeah, I’ll have the tortellini,” I say.
“Good choice,” he says, taking the menu. He punches my order in at the register. “So, you’re a lawyer?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a long sip of my drink and settling into my seat. “Bishop, Hollis, & Sterling. Right next door.”
“I’ve heard of it,” the bartender says, grinning and brushing his hand through his hair. “You like it?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
Even as the words leave my lips, I’m unsure if it’s because I believe them or because I want them to be true. I look back at the bartender, and I wonder if he senses the waver in my voice.
“It’s challenging,” I add.
The chair next to mine creaks, and I hear the rustle of a suit jacket.
“Mr. Sterling,” he says, already dropping a sugar cube into a glass and reaching for the bourbon. “Good to see you. Old fashioned?”
I look over to see James hanging his jacket on the back of the chair as he nods to the bartender, taking the seat next to me. The air shifts as he sits, my eyes widening as his meet mine.
“Anders,” he greets me.
“Sterling,” I respond.
His sharp look cuts through my composure.
“Assumed you’d have plans tonight,” he says. The words are even, but I sense a deeper curiosity beneath them.
“How do you know I’m not meeting someone here?” I fire back, raising my brows and taking a sip of my martini, hoping the gesture masks my sudden unease.
He seems amused by my question. The hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips.
“I find it hard to believe any man who has you would be dumb enough to leave you waiting here.”
I swallow.
“So,” he continues, “boyfriend must’ve been busy tonight.”
“Boyfriend?” I nearly choke on my drink, keenly aware of his eyes on me.
“The roses on your desk,” he answers.
“Oh. Um. I actually don’t know who they’re from.” My gaze flits around to the bottles lined behind the bar as I fumble for an explanation. “There wasn’t a name on the card. Guess I have a secret admirer,” I add, my voice a fragile attempt at levity as I chuckle, unconvincing.
He makes a hmph sound, his voice low and throaty over the noise of the other patrons.
“What?” I say, unable to mask the mix of curiosity and unease in my voice. “If you’re thinking I sent them to myself, I swear I didn’t.”
The bartender places a lowball glass with a dark liquid in front of James.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Just figured you’d have a boyfriend.” He takes a sip of his drink, his movement slow and deliberate.