Chapter 30
Brian
“You’re scaring me,” Sully said, gripping the edge of my desk. “You gotta get it together. You do need to sleep once in a while.”
As I loosened my tie, I glared at him. “I’m fine.”
He shook his head and snagged the walkie off my desk.
“Code red. Brian’s throwing a nutter. Need backup.”
Before I could throw a stapler at him, Cal and Lo appeared, both panting like they’d run down the stairs.
“What are we dealing with?” Lo asked. “Is it like when Judge Walsh deleted the motion? Or when Fuzzy peed on the Gainsborough exhibits thirty minutes before trial?”
“Worse.” Sully roughed a hand down his face. “He’s gone mental because his girl is gone and he’s finally realizing he’s in love with her.”
“Bugger,” Cal hissed. “We knew this day was coming but…” He checked his watch. “I thought we had at least a couple more weeks.”
The three of them looked both deeply satisfied and confused as they crowded into my small office, blocking the door so I couldn’t escape this bullshit.
I eyed the window, cursing the bars that played a role in holding me captive.
Of course I missed Jess and the girls. They’d become daily fixtures in my life.
Without them, I had nothing but work and the damn cat lying on top of the file cabinet, flicking his tail.
The life I’d lived happily for decades was suddenly a joyless prison.
My mood had been shit, and my knuckles were bruised and bloody from all the boxing I’d been doing in an attempt to cope.
For my whole career, all it had taken was securing a win for a client to fill me with a deep sense of satisfaction. This job was my life, and I took pride in helping people.
But since the day Judge Gordon issued the order, giving Jess legal permission to relocate to Vermont, my life had felt empty.
That first day, the overwhelming emotions had been relief and pride, of course. Because I’d won for her.
But within hours, reality had set in.
She was leaving. I’d helped her leave.
I’d worked my ass off to pull off a legal miracle, and in doing so, I’d paved the road the people who meant so much to me needed so they could walk away.
My brain could not reconcile the goal I’d attained with the storm of emotions churning in my chest. Winning felt like losing.
But she’d been so damn happy.
Her beautiful face had lit up, and she’d hugged me fiercely just outside the courtroom.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” I sat up and focused on my computer, blindly moving the mouse and clicking.
Maybe I’d been a bit bearish since they’d gone to Vermont a few days ago—and how could I not be, now that the reality of living without them was settling in?
—but come on, I had work to do. We all had work to do.
Lo put her hands on her hips. “Tough. It needs to happen.”
“Have you at least called her?” Sully asked.
“No, of course not,” I replied without taking my eyes off the screen.
“Why not?”
Because I had no right to. We weren’t dating. We weren’t anything. We had been lawyer and client. Now that the representation agreement had been fulfilled, we were nothing to each other.
“There is no reason to bother her. Her legal matters are wrapped up.”
Lo threw her hands up in frustration. “What about Boston?”
The sharpness of her tone caused me to stare at her. How the hell did she know about Boston?
“He’s in denial.” Sloane appeared, baby monitor in hand. “He’s in love with her and can’t figure out how to accept it and move forward.”
“So emotional constipation?” Cal asked.
Sloane chuckled. “You could say that.”
“Can you all please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I asked, my rage barely contained.
“No.” Cal tossed a mini basketball into the air and caught it. “You can’t just stomp around this building all day and night, growling at everyone. You’ve got to tell her how you feel.”
Sully nodded. “Sloane said she’d smother you with a maple-scented pillow in your sleep if you didn’t stop snapping at us.”
Sloane smiled at him, hearts in her eyes.
“You’ve got to do something,” Sully said. “Make the gesture. Take the leap. Learn from me, mate. It’s worth it.”
He put his arm around his wife and kissed the top of her head.
That’s when it hit me.
I only had one shot at this. The two of them had almost gotten divorced, for fuck’s sake. They’d been dangerously close to losing one another because they’d both been stubborn. And here I was, sitting in my office, having a nervous breakdown.
“I need to go to Vermont,” I said.
My friends gave me looks that ranged from curious to smug.
Now that I’d put the words out there, it was as if a lightbulb had turned on. I needed to go to Vermont and see Jess.
Despite the complex situation I was in, this was simple.
“When?”
“Now,” I replied, logging off and powering down my computer. “I’m going now.”
“It’s eleven p.m.”
“So?” I plucked my briefcase off the floor and confirmed that my laptop and charger were inside it. “I’ve got a tank of gas and some feelings to work through.”
“Do you need company?” Cal asked. “We can come along for the ride.”
I shook my head. “Nah. The solitude will do me good.”
“I’ll pack snacks for you,” Sloane said, slipping into mom mode, “And brew some coffee.”
“I’ll clear your calendar for the rest of the week,” Lo chimed in.
“You should propose,” Cal quipped.
Sloane and Lo shot him matching dirty looks.
“May want to be a bit more subtle.” Sully glowered at his brother, then focused on me, brow arched. “When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.” And I wasn’t sure I cared. If Jess was in Vermont. I wanted to be in Vermont. End of story. In this moment, nothing else mattered.
I climbed the steps two at a time and packed a bag, my mind totally clear. With my toothbrush and toiletries packed, I said goodbye to the cat. Then I headed for the car.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, as I strode across the parking lot, my thoughts weren’t racing. My objective was clear.
I had to go get my girl.
It wasn’t until I’d crossed the GW Bridge that I realized I didn’t know where I was going.
Luckily, when I called Lo, I discovered that she was ten steps ahead of me.
She texted the address of Jess’s family farm, and once I clicked Go on the GPS, a wave of relief hit me.
I’d head there and then figure the rest out.
It was the middle of the night, so traffic was nonexistent, and as I reached the town of Maplewood, Vermont, the sun was beginning to rise.
This place was charming as hell. Everywhere I looked, I found picture-perfect rolling hills and farmland, flanked by green mountains and a vast, cloudless sky.
Since it was only five, I stopped in town for coffee and to stretch my legs. I’d visited the farm once during the summer between my junior and senior years of college but didn’t remember much about the town itself.
In the early morning light, when the only sounds were the wind rustling in nearby trees and birdsong, it was like walking onto a movie set.
The downtown area looked like the definition of New England, with cobblestone sidewalks, Revolutionary War monuments, colorful shops, and impeccable landscaping.
I parked along the street in front of a hipster-looking coffee shop called Bean There, Sipped That and headed in, desperate for a hit of caffeine.
When I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself.
My hair was a disaster, probably because I’d run my hands through it repeatedly to keep myself awake.
I hadn’t trimmed my beard in a week, and today, it had officially begun veering into mountain hermit territory.
Then there were the dark circles under my eyes that looked more like bruises. Shit, I was a mess.
The shop was mostly empty, though there were a few older folks sipping from large cobalt blue mugs in one corner. Their eyes followed me intently as I approached the counter.
On one wall was a massive mural of the mountains I’d admired on the way in, with hand-painted road signs displaying the distance to various world landmarks.
The other was dominated by a chalkboard menu with every type of drink one could imagine and an impressive selection of pastries and breakfast sandwiches, each with special notes about the origin and sustainability of its ingredients.
The lanky teen behind the counter looked me up and down, his lip curled with what might have been disgust, though his question held a hint of concern. “You okay, dude?”
“Um, yes,” I replied awkwardly. “Can I get a large black coffee, please? And one of those croissants.”
He pulled a large mug that matched the ones the patrons were using from under the counter.
“Can I get that to go, please?” I asked, pointing at it.
“Did you bring a reusable mug?” he asked, his pierced brow arched, his teenage attitude on display. It was impressive for such an early morning, really.
“No.”
“So you’re okay with killing a tree so you can have a cup of coffee?”
His words barely registered. I was too lost to sleep deprivation and caffeine withdrawal. In hindsight, I’d really let myself go to hell since Jess left last week.
“Sure,” I replied, eye twitching.
With a scowl, he produced a cardboard cup from under the counter.
“Hey, kid,” I asked as he poured. “What day is it?”
He peered at me over his shoulder. “Monday.”
“Munchkin Monday,” I murmured. “Do you have Munchkins?”
“Does this look like a Dunkin’ Donuts to you?” he snapped back.
I rolled my eyes. Teenagers.
Frowning, I scanned the bakery case, which was the size of a school bus and filled with dozens of amazing-looking treats.
“Can I get a few donuts, then?”
He set the coffee beside the register and grabbed an empty box. Then he looked at me expectantly.
I did a few calculations in my head, though my thoughts were jumbled.
Jess was at the farm with the girls and her brothers and her sister and her kids.
I should get a lot. Plus, they looked delicious, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a donut, so I wouldn’t mind having more than one. Or leftovers.
“That one.” I pointed to the top shelf. “The lemon curd—no, make it two. And three of the maple bacon. Nah, I’ll eat those while driving. Just give me all the maple bacon. And the Mexican chocolate ones too.”
The kid dropped the donut in his hand into the box and leaned back. “Hey, Mom,” he hollered. “There’s an unhoused guy in a suit out here who wants to buy all the maple bacons.”
A moment later, the kitchen door swung open and a plump woman with a blond ponytail and a full sleeve came striding out.
“Elijah. What are you talking ab—oh, shit.”
She froze in the doorway, her eyes going wide. “You’re here.”
I studied her, trying to place her, but my exhausted brain and blurry eyes made it impossible.
She dropped the last few donuts into the box and shoved them at me. “Take ’em. Elijah.” She turned to the teen. “Give him the lavender-infused vanilla. Those are her favorite.”
As he dropped a couple of those into a bag, I pulled out my wallet.
The woman shoved the bag into my face and waved me off.
“But I have to pay.”
“Later.” She pointed to the door. “Just go. Huge red sign. Can’t miss the farm.”