Chapter Eleven Grovelling
Bastian brought Mirabelle to the bathroom so she could use the toilet, brush her teeth and wash her face. While she was doing that, he went to the kitchen, grabbed several bottles of water and some crackers, just in case, and brought them back to her bedroom. He was digging in a drawer, looking for the pair of jogging pants he knew he’d left behind the last time he’d slept over, when he heard her come out of the bathroom a few minutes later. “Bast? Can you help me?”
“What’s wrong?” He found his pants and turned around, throwing them on the dresser as he undid the buttons on the cuffs of his dress shirt. She was standing in the doorway looking extremely flustered, and he took a step toward her, already having an idea of what she needed.
She huffed out a long sigh and gestured at her blouse. “The buttons.” She grumbled a little resentfully, making Bastian chuckle softly. For whatever reason, alcohol made her utterly incapable of figuring out buttons, and the shirt she was wearing had loops instead of buttonholes.
“Of course, Bunny.” He waited for her to approach him and helped her with the buttons. He’d seen Mirabelle in various states of undress too many times to count in thirty years, and it never got old for him. She hated to work out but swam three or four times a week and surfed whenever she got a chance and was in what Bastian called “soft fit” shape, meaning she was fit and in shape but had a slight belly and no defined muscles. He thought she was absolutely gorgeous and often had to mentally start going over some of his worst divorce cases to keep himself from getting obviously hard, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. While she stripped off the rest of her clothes, he pulled out her favourite tank top and pyjama pants and passed them to her, giving her some privacy to get dressed by going to the bathroom to go through his nighttime routine and change into jogging pants.
Mirabelle was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him when he came out. Knowing what she wanted, he approached and pulled her hair loose from the fishtail braid, rubbing his fingers over her scalp to relieve the tightness he knew having her hair up all day had caused her. She leaned her forehead against his chest as he massaged her scalp, letting out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, he encouraged her to drink a bottle of water, then pulled back the blankets for her to get in bed, climbing in beside her. She rolled onto her stomach and went to sleep quickly while he rubbed her back.
He lay awake for a long time after Mirabelle went to sleep. It was still relatively early for him to go to sleep, just past eight o’clock, but he stayed in bed with her both to keep an eye on her and just to be close after the week apart. After she walked in on Eddie with Casey and she moved in with him, they began sharing a bed again, something they hadn’t done with each other since university. It was mostly platonic – Bastian didn’t want to push her for something she wasn’t ready for, but he had thoroughly enjoyed holding her all night again.
Things he had chosen to ignore while she was married began pushing their way past the block he’d put up in his brain. Like how quick she was to laugh and how much he liked it when her laughter was because of him, how she always put other people first and how fast she was to stand up for someone or give them credit when they did something well, no matter how small or insignificant. He loved that she refused to let anyone, including him, walk over her and stood up for what she believed in. Bastian was not surprised she resigned and took the entire support staff with her; he was actually pretty sure she was the one who convinced them it would work out and made sure they got their new jobs so they wouldn't have to go back to Henderson. He was surprised it took her so long and knew it was loyalty to him that kept her there.
When she finally left Eddie, which Bastian knew would happen at some point, he allowed the feelings he always had for her but had buried deep inside him to grow and began noticing things he loved about her again. How soft and silky her hair was and how he constantly wanted to run his fingers through it. The way her smile quirked up more on the right than the left, so it looked like a smirk, how perfectly she fit into his arms, the top of her head just coming in under his chin, how she smelt like a tropical beach and the ocean and how beautiful her eyes were.
He knew he would have to explain himself and his actions over the last three months, and he was working on putting his thoughts in order so he could explain things when a low moan from Mirabelle pulled him out of his head. He glanced at the clock and saw it was just after three in the morning, and he looked over to see her watching him, a distressed look on her face.
“Bast?” she whispered.
“Yeah, Bunny?” he rolled on his side and reached out to rub her back again, taking in her slightly green complexion.
“I don't feel so good.”She whimpered before pressing her lips together tightly and swallowing.
“I'm not surprised.” He got out of bed and pulled the blankets off her. “You had at least three Russian Sunsets.” He gently helped her up, grabbed the remaining bottles of water he had put on the bedside table, and guided her to the bathroom. She sank down next to the toilet with a low moan and laid her head on the seat.
“I had more than three,” she admitted reluctantly. “The other bartender had me settle with him before Myles got in. I had at least six or seven.” She urged, and he sat down behind her, pulling her hair back.
“Haven't done this since university.” He chuckled and rubbed her back as she urged again and then vomited. She was usually cautious about how much alcohol she drank for this very reason.
“No laughing. I'm still mad at you.” She managed to get out before throwing up again. “Fuck, I hate throwing up.” She groaned and vomited again. “This is why I stopped drinking.”
“If you'd drink something that wasn't full of sugar, you wouldn't get so sick.” Luckily for Bastian, someone throwing up didn’t bother him. He’d cleaned up after his mother’s nights out so often growing up that he was immune to it. He just kept rubbing her back and holding her hair for her.
“But then I taste the alcohol and get sick anyway. Remember the disastrous shot debacle of our first year of university?” She leaned over the toilet again, vomited, spit, and wiped her mouth before flushing. Bastian smirked. She’d been determined to learn how to do shots so she could join in at the occasional parties they went to and asked him to teach her. Four shots in, and she vomited all over the table.
“You mean the time you wanted to expand your party skills and asked me to help? That shot debacle?” Bastian grinned, and when it seemed like she was done emptying her stomach, he stood up, grabbing a facecloth and running it under cold water. He sat down again and gently encouraged her to lean against his chest, then wiped off her face and neck. “You could just try sipping a nice, twelve-year-old scotch with me sometime.”
Mirabelle gagged again. “Nope. No more alcohol.” She quickly leaned forward over the toilet again, but this time, it was just dry heaves. “Oh, thank god, there's nothing left.” She murmured, leaning back against him, and he handed her the water. “Thank you.” She mumbled, very clearly put out that she had to say it.
“No problem, Bunny.” He wiped the sweat off her forehead and the back of her neck with the damp facecloth then tossed it up into the sink.
“Pretty sure I told you not to call me that,” she grumbled. He let out a sad sigh, obviously sobering up a little hadn’t made her any less mad at him, but he’d be damned before he’d give up his nickname for her. She was his Bunny, damn it, and she knew he loved her, even if she was currently in denial.
“Pretty sure it's my special nickname that I've been using since we were nine, and you spent a solid three months jumping and hopping everywhere, so I don't think you have a say.” He really was trying to remain patient and understanding with her, recognizing it was his fault that they were even having this conversation, but he wished she would have just let him explain instead of continuing to snap and snipe at him. His patience was quickly starting to erode. They both fell quiet, and after a minute, Mirabelle stood up, looking annoyed.
“Let's go have this conversation in the living room since you seem so eager to remind me of our history.” Bastian scrambled to his feet, watching her roll her eyes as she left the room. “Which is pretty fucking manipulative of you, counsellor.”
“That's not fair, nor was it what I was trying to do, Mira.” Bastian deliberately kept his voice very calm and rational. Calling him a counsellor had given him a way to keep his temper in check. Since she was determined to put him in the hot seat, he’d treat this like a trial. “I would have said that regardless of how mad you were with me.”
“Maybe.” She allowed as she curled up in the round papasan chair she had bought at a second-hand store and refurbished to match her living room colour scheme, based on the castle at Disneyland, shades of teal blues and beige. Bastian sat on the end of her couch closest to her and rubbed his forehead, trying to organize his thoughts. “I'm sorry, Mira, I’m so sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say at this point. “I fucked up - badly - numerous times over the last few months.” He spread his hands in supplication. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but clearly, I should have explained myself better to you.”
“And what exactly were you doing, Bast?” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Because from my point of view, you were putting your head in the sand and indulging the little princess to keep the peace in the office just like her father.”
Bastian shifted uncomfortably. He could understand why it seemed that way to her and mentally kicked himself for keeping her out of the loop on his progress. “I really was working on getting things together so we could leave; I just didn’t realize the process would be so long.” He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head in frustration. Can I just start at the beginning? It will be easier to explain my thought process that way.”
Mirabelle nodded, and he could see a faint hint of curiosity in her eyes, which he took as a positive sign that she was willing to hear him out. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands. “When John informed me he was hiring Kelly, I immediately started looking into what we had to do to start our own law firm. I remembered the process vaguely from university, and I knew the first step was to get a PLLC in place.” He met her eyes, trying to convey how sorry he was. “Everything else was pretty straightforward, but the PLLC still hasn’t gone through. I was warned it could take several months, and I didn't want to end things with John on a bad note or see him fail because of Kelly, despite everything that was going on.”
“I understand why you thought I was ignoring all the problems, but I swear, I did talk to John - several times - about the way Kelly was acting and treating you and the other staff members. I warned him that she was causing problems and that you and everyone else weren’t going to put up with it for very long. He would either blow me off, or he would bring her in and ask her about it. She would immediately start crying and turn it around on you guys.” He rubbed his face in frustration as the numerous conversations with John came back to him. “I was hoping you would just follow my lead and ignore her, but that was stupid because you aren't the type to let that stuff go.”
“Besides the fact that the PLLC is taking forever to go through, I couldn’t fully focus and put the energy into everything else I had to do because John kept giving Kelly cases that she had absolutely no business handling, cases that would torpedo the office’s reputation if she failed. If that happened after we were gone, fine, I planned to sit down with John and give him a final warning when we resigned, but I didn’t want to be on the ship when it started to sink, so I helped her, which, as you know, sucked up all our free time because my caseload doubled.”
“Why didn't you tell me any of this? Or ask me for help?” Mirabelle had been listening quietly and he could see she was at least starting to understand the predicament Bastian felt he was in, but she was also beginning to look more frustrated about it.
“You already were helping way more than you knew. I was asking you to handle all the paperwork and background stuff for Kelly and me. I knew you were very unhappy about it and the way things were going in the office, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask you to do anything else.” He explained lamely. He knew it wasn’t a good excuse, but he genuinely was trying to keep her as uninvolved as he could, not wanting to add to her stress.
“Bast, you know things work better and happen faster when we work together.” She was scolding him, but her voice was much gentler than it had been since he picked her up at the bar. “You should have told me.”
“I wanted to do this on my own; I wanted to show you I could do this.” He shook his head and sank back against the couch, feeling like an idiot and a selfish one at that. “I knew you were pissed off with the situation and with me, but I didn’t think it would take so long for the PLLC to come through. I kept thinking it would be the next day, the next week, and now we’re three months into this, and I’ve spent the last week getting everything else ready, so I could show you how serious I am.”
“Everything else?” She raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“The trademark on the firm’s name has been approved; the logo has been designed; the bank accounts have been opened; the office space has been rented; everything else is in place. We even have our first client as Adrien come cuddle.” She laughed again, letting him pull her out of the chair and over to him so he could hold her. “I really am so sorry, Bunny.”
“I know.” Mirabelle tucked her head under his chin, and he couldn’t help but press his face into the top of her head, holding her to him and breathing in her tropical ocean scent. “You were sorry the minute you walked out of your room and saw me standing in your condo.” Bastian smiled as he adjusted slightly so she was in a more comfortable position in his arms. “I have some money put away.” She looked up at him with a grin. “I've been putting money away to start our practice for a while. I was gonna surprise you with it.”
“Really?” He smiled at her, then kissed the tip of her nose and her forehead, pulling her into a tight hug. “I have a better idea for that money. Do you still want to go back to school and upgrade to environmental law?”
“Yes.” She pulled back and looked at him, excitement blooming in her eyes. “You'd be okay with that?”
He nodded, pleased that he was still able to make her happy like that. “You can do it online, work on it whenever, and we can claim it as a business expense.”
“And I get to decorate the office, right?”
“Yes, Mirabelle. You can decorate the office.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. She was much better with interior design than he was, which was funny because he was much more into fashion than she was. “Everything would just be brown and plain if I do it.”
“With ugly artwork.” She teased as he settled back into the couch with his arms around her, his eyes closing as his lack of sleep caught up to him.
“With ugly artwork.” He agreed. “Your taste is better than mine, so do your thing. We can go see it after we get some sleep and breakfast.” He stood up, balancing her carefully in his arms and carried her to her bedroom while she giggled madly. He set her down, walked to the other side of the bed and crawled in next to her, pulling her against his chest. “Night Bunny.”