Chapter 4
Brian
Iwoke up the next morning, as I always did, with the damn cat sprawled out across my chest. For the first few months, I’d dream that I was being suffocated. Over time, though, my subconscious caught on, understanding that it was just thirty pounds of cat on my sternum.
“Food, Dammit,” I wheezed out.
It pushed off me, forcing the rest of the air from my lungs, and darted for my closed bedroom door.
“Figures.” Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I squinted at the clock. It wasn’t even six. Fuck. I flopped back down onto the mattress. Why the hell was I up so early? The damn cat hadn’t even been kneading at me or poking me with his claws. Yet here I was, more alert than was natural.
A few inches from my head, inside the wall near my headboard, a rattling sound caught my attention.
I roughed a hand down my face and groaned.
“Fuck you, Sebastian,” I grumbled to our resident ghost. He had a habit of making weird noises just to mess with us.
Fuzzy hissed, reminding me that I’d promised the demon his food, so I heaved myself to my feet. Now that we were up, he’d also need a walk, so there was no chance of going back to sleep.
The damn cat was the epitome of high maintenance.
The only cat food Sully had found that he wouldn’t turn his whiskers up at was an organic brand we had to drive to the Whole Foods in Hoboken to pick up.
He’d gone on a mini hunger strike not long after Cal had first brought him home, along with a standard bag of kibble.
I, being an absolute dumbass, had felt bad for the oversized feline, so I’d given him a can of tuna.
Now he expected Michelin-starred kitty chow on the regular.
Most days, I wasn’t sure whether he was a beloved pet or an overgrown gremlin with delusions of grandeur.
Since Tia’s birth, I’d taken over feeding duties for Sully, so with a sigh, I fed the damn cat and filled his water fountain. Yes, a bubbling fountain, because the damn cat would not deign to drink from a common bowl.
While he ate, I chugged my protein shake. My mind immediately went to Jess. The conversation in the yoga studio had inspired me. I had to help her. In fact, how I was going to help her and why I felt so compelled to do so had consumed all of my waking thoughts since she’d walked into my office.
The girl I used to know was tough, but this woman? She had a quiet, determined strength I was in awe of, and from what I’d read, she worked hard.
And she was gorgeous. She was bright and kind too. Though there was a weariness in her, creeping around the edges, that concerned me.
I was drawn to her the moment I saw her again.
We were practically strangers after all these years, and our lives were moving in different directions, but there was a tiny spot inside my brain that lit up every time I thought about her.
Her dimples, her smile, how graceful and sexy she looked doing yoga in that damn sports bra.
It inspired a want I’d only ever felt for her. It was a general ache. A phantom emotional limb. But the want that had plagued me in my thirties was back.
It was the desire for more.
More than my career and my brownstone. More than fun trips and a nice car.
A partner. A person.
It was bound to happen. I could only bury my feelings for so long, even if, like most Irish Catholic men, I was excellent at it.
First Cal and Lo fell in love. Watching their journey tugged at my heartstrings, but I’d become adept at ignoring those types of feelings.
It was trickier to deny the sensation when Sloane and Sully found their way back to each other.
I witnessed their love story play out from the beginning, when the three of us were in law school, and nothing had ever been as satisfying as knowing they’d made it full circle.
My best friends, happy and thriving and growing their family.
That’s when the lock I’d put on the desire to one day find that for myself had been irrevocably damaged.
When I’d begun to think about finding a person to share my life with.
Yet in the last twenty years, I hadn’t dated a single woman who turned me into a simp the way Lo does for Cal. And I hadn’t once had the need to reevaluate my life and become the best version of myself the way Sully did with Sloane.
And maybe I’d chosen those women for that reason.
But when I looked at Jess?
A rightness I hadn’t ever felt before consumed me.
I couldn’t date my client. And I couldn’t date a struggling single mom who needed my help. But I could learn from this experience. Instead of continuing to shut down these feelings, I could let them out and explore them.
Shit. That probably meant I’d have to do the thing I dreaded most.
Therapy.
“Did you find the Phillips trust file?” Lo said, her voice crackly through the walkie-talkie.
“Yes,” I hollered back, my hands too busy knotting my tie to respond using what we’d dubbed the Jersey intercom system.
With a final adjustment, I debated running upstairs to make a protein shake but realized I was already behind schedule.
So I scooped the files up and headed toward the door.
I had a meeting with Cliff Phillips today, and I would not keep him waiting.
When I stepped out onto the sidewalk, Dominic, Cliff’s driver, was waiting out front with a smile and a black coffee for me.
Cliff Phillips had become a friend over the many years I’d worked for him. When Terry had hired me straight out of law school, he’d brought me to a meeting with him, and the old man had taken a liking to me.
Eventually, Terry handed the man’s estate over to me.
Not only did I work with him regarding his personal estate but also another two dozen family and corporate trusts.
He was kind and down-to-earth, unlike just about any billionaire I’d ever met, with the exception of my sister’s family and closest friends.
He was so down-to-earth, in fact, that the moment he saw me, he called me out on my shit. Just like he did every time we met.
“You look tired,” he said as I sat at the conference table. “You’re young. Gotta take better care of yourself.”
I glared at him. “I’m not young, Cliff, and I’m feeling my age every day.”
He leaned back in his chair, making the leather cushion creak. “I’m in my eighties, you ass. Trust me, I know what old feels like. And you’re not old. You’re in your prime, son. And as someone at the end of their journey—”
“Don’t say that,” I interrupted. “You’re sharp as a tack.”
He chuckled. “Yes. My mind is solid, but the docs said the cancer’s bad this time.”
“You beat it before.”
“I did. But I had my Betty then.” He let out a long sigh. “Now that she’s gone, I’m not really living. Which is why I need you on your A game. I don’t want any bullshit after I’m gone.”
Straightening, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I mean it. Yes, I busted my ass for decades for what I have. The companies, the real estate, all the money, and I’m grateful for it all.
But my proudest achievement is my family, my daughter, my grandchildren and my great grandchild.
My priority is ensuring everything is set up correctly for them. ”
I nodded. His estate plan was complex and had been several decades in the making. A man didn’t go from selling peanuts at Metros games to owning the stadium without planning ahead.
We spent more than an hour going through the new trust paperwork and the updates I’d made. And at every turn, Cliff asked clarifying questions and made suggestions. For someone with very little formal education, he missed nothing.
I’d have hours of work ahead of me to make all the requested changes, but I admired a man who knew what he wanted.
So often, my high-net-worth clients dithered and struggled to make decisions, making the process miserable.
No one wanted to confront their mortality, but rich people especially liked to pretend death would never come for them.
Cliff rang for coffee and sat back in his chair, surveying the field and the skyline behind it.
Every time I came here, it was like I was ten again, attending my first game with my dad.
He’d saved for months to purchase the tickets, and the day had been the best of the short life I’d lived up until then.
I’d been to dozens of games as an adult, and I’d brought him into the owner’s box a few times, but none of those experiences would ever compare to that sunny day in July when the two of us sat in the outfield bleachers.
“Anyway.” He waved a hand. “When are you gonna get married? Best thing you’ll ever do.”
I kept my attention on my notes, not wanting to get baited into this conversation again.
“I mean it,” he insisted, his voice loud in the large room. “Partnership is beautiful. Raising kids? God, it’s the hardest and most rewarding thing you’ll ever do. And I should know. Not only did I raise Charlotte, but then Landon and Lennon too. And now we’ve got Amelia in the mix.”
The emptiness I typically kept at bay wormed its way through me. “Not sure that’s in my future.”
“Nope.” He shook his head like he was rejecting my answer. “Work less and you’ll see. There’s a woman out there who’s perfect for you. Someone who will make you want to cut out early and live a little.”
I sat back, glaring at him. “Really? You’re my biggest client, and you’re condoning poor work ethic? If I start skipping out early, who’s gonna pay the bills?”
He scoffed. “Don’t I pay you enough? The offer still stands. Come work for me. You could have a nice office here. Plenty of vacation. Handle the nonprofit and all the trusts.”
He’d been trying to poach me for years. But Murphy and Machon was my home. Terry had been like a second father to me since Sully and I met that first month of law school. And I’d never give up the client relationships I’d spent years building.
“We’ve talked about this. I can’t be your personal lawyer.”
“Is it because those Berkshires won’t give you up? I’ll call Henry.”
There was no way Henry Berkshire would ever let me go. He’d also repeatedly offered me a position with his company. It was overwhelming, though I couldn’t deny it boosted my ego when billionaires fought over me.
“What I’m trying to say is that you only have one life to live,” he goes on. “So you better get living. There’s got to be a girl out there for you.”
I smiled politely, pretending his words didn’t sting a bit. Because there was a woman. A woman who’d ruined me for all others twenty years ago. A woman I’d never stopped thinking about, who now consumed my every waking moment. Who was making me question things I’d long ago accepted as fact.
But she wasn’t perfect for me, and I sure as hell wasn’t perfect for her.
She was beautiful and fun, and somehow, I’d transformed into a curmudgeon. I was nowhere near good enough. But maybe I could be?
“There is someone,” I admitted.
His graying brows rose with curiosity.
“The problem is…” I cleared my throat. “She’s a client.”
“So?” he practically shouted. “Get Cal or Sully to take her case.”
“Can’t. Out of the three of us, I’ve got the most experience, by far, with her particular situation, and it’s a tricky one.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly, rubbing at his chin. “But she doesn’t have to be a client forever. Do the work, and when it’s all wrapped up, ask her out. If she’s the right girl, the timing will work out. It always does.”
My chest tightened as I leaned forward. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I was once a twenty-four-year-old college dropout who walked out of a diner on 51st Street with seven dollars in my pocket and met the love of my life.” He rested his forearms on the table.
“And together, the two of us built a life and a family and an empire.” His eyes began to mist. “She never missed a home game. And now her seat is empty.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling choked up myself. Betty had been a firecracker and a lot of fun. Her presence was missed everywhere. As if she had been his life force, and now he was surviving without it, he’d aged significantly since she passed.
“If I did one thing right in my life, it was this: I got the girl and I held on with everything I had.”
A strange combination of anticipation and fear swirled inside me. “You did.”
“Remember that. Because when you’re my age, staring down death, you’ll discover that your family was your greatest achievement.”
I nodded, though I didn’t respond. He made it all seem so easy, yet my situation was anything but.
When I finished Jess’s case, the best-case scenario would be that she’d move to Vermont. Worst-case scenario? I’d fail and she’d be devastated. Hell, she’d probably hate me. So asking her to dinner after we’d wrapped up in court was far less simple than it seemed.
And I wasn’t sure I could even survive that long. I’d spent less than two hours in her presence this week, and already, my brain cells were rearranging themselves.
“You’re good at what you do, Brian. Because you’re strategic and precise,” Cliff said. “Ever think about applying those skills to situations beyond billable hours?”
I cringed. “Dating and lawyering are not the same.”
He swatted a hand at me. “Jesus, don’t tell me you lied when you said you graduated at the top of your class in law school. A man that smart surely couldn’t be this dense.”
Tipping back in my chair, I rolled my eyes. Second in the class, technically, thanks to Sloane, but I didn’t bother correcting him.
“Be patient, lay the groundwork, play the long game.”
I sighed, my body deflating. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t screw it up.” He gave me a wry grin. “Take it from me. I got the girl, and she made every day worth living. Now I just want to move on to the next life so I can be with her again, because the world is a hell of a lot less fun without her in it.”
He stood, and relying more heavily on his cane than he had the last time I saw him, he headed for the door.
As I followed him out, he turned and held out his arms.
I gave in and hugged him. For the second time this week, I’d hugged a client.
He patted my cheek affectionately. “I mean it. Bring her to the owner’s box. You know there are always seats for you.”