Chapter 20 #2
The room erupted in movement and noise, people grabbing their envelopes and filing out quickly. I caught several sympathetic looks directed at Beau, and a few people gave me approving nods. Lisa practically ran over to us.
“That was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, squeezing Beau’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“I... yeah.” Beau’s voice was shaky. “I think so.”
Paul left without looking at us, his face still red, and I watched him go with grim satisfaction.
When the room had mostly cleared, Beau turned to me. “Mason. What did you just do?”
“Stood up for you. For us.”
“You just came out to the entire firm.”
“I know.”
“And you eviscerated Paul Cramer in front of everyone.”
“He deserved it.” I touched Beau’s face gently. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I—”
“Don’t apologize.” Beau’s eyes were bright. “That was... you just... Mason, you—”
“I told you I’d prove it.” I kissed him quickly, not caring that we were still in the conference room, that people could see through the glass walls. “Actions, not just words.”
“That was definitely action.” Beau laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. “Holy shit. Did that really just happen?”
“It did. And now we have to go talk to Carter and Patsy.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“I don’t know. But whatever happens, we handle it together.” I took his hand again. “Come on.”
* * *
Carter’s office felt smaller than usual with all four of us in it. Patsy sat in one of the guest chairs, her expression unreadable. Carter stood behind his desk, arms crossed, looking at us with an intensity that made my stomach clench.
“Sit,” he said.
We sat.
Silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Then Carter sighed.
“That was quite a performance out there, Mason.”
“I’m sorry if I—”
“I’m not finished.” Carter held up a hand. “Paul Cramer was out of line. Completely, unacceptably out of line. What he said was inappropriate, unprofessional, and borderline actionable. Patsy and I will deal with him separately.”
Relief flooded through me.
“However,” Carter continued, “you two have been in a relationship and didn’t disclose it to senior management. That’s a problem.”
“We know,” Beau said quietly. “We should have said something earlier.”
“Yes, you should have.” Patsy leaned forward. “Not because we have an issue with workplace relationships—we don’t. Not inherently. But because when two attorneys are working closely together on significant cases, we need to know about potential conflicts of interest.”
“There haven’t been any conflicts,” I said. “Our relationship hasn’t affected our work.”
“That’s for us to determine, not you.” Carter’s voice was firm but not unkind.
“That said—” He glanced at Patsy, who nodded.
“From what I’ve seen, your relationship, if anything, has made you both more effective.
The work you’ve done together has been exceptional.
But moving forward, we need transparency. ”
“Understood,” I said.
“So here’s what’s going to happen.” Carter sat down, his expression softening slightly.
“You’ll both submit a formal disclosure of your relationship to HR after the holidays.
We’ll review your case assignments to make sure there are no ethical issues.
And in the future, if there’s ever a situation where your relationship could create a conflict, you come to us immediately. Clear?”
“Clear,” Beau and I said in unison.
“Good.” Patsy smiled. “For what it’s worth, Mason, what you said out there about Beau’s work? You were absolutely right. He’s been an incredible addition to this firm, and his success has nothing to do with your relationship.”
“I know,” I said. “Everyone should know.”
“They will now.” Carter stood and extended his hand. “Congratulations on finding each other. Just next time, maybe with less public drama?”
I shook his hand, grinning. “No promises.”
We left Carter’s office in a daze. The office was nearly empty now, most people having grabbed their bonuses and fled for the holidays. Lisa was waiting by Beau’s office, practically bouncing.
“Well?” she demanded. “Are you fired? Promoted? What happened?”
“We’re fine,” Beau said. “We just have to file a formal disclosure about our relationship after the holiday break.”
“That’s it?” Lisa’s mouth dropped open. “I was expecting much worse.”
“That’s it.”
“Thank God.” Lisa pulled both of us into a hug. “I was ready to riot if they punished you for putting that asshole Paul in his place.”
“Carter and Patsy are dealing with Paul,” I said. “Separately.”
“Good. He deserves whatever he gets.” Lisa pulled back, grinning. “Now get out of here. Go enjoy your holiday. Be disgustingly in love. I’ll see you both after New Year’s.”
She left with a wave, and suddenly it was just Beau and me standing in the empty hallway.
“We should go,” Beau said.
“We should.”
Neither of us moved.
“Mason?” Beau’s voice was soft. “Thank you. For what you did in there. For standing up for me.”
“I’ll always stand up for you,” I murmured, pulling him in close. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kissed me, sweet and lingering. “Now take me home. We have Christmas to celebrate.”
“My place or yours?”
“Yours. I have something to give you.”
“The mysterious present?”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
* * *
Christmas morning dawned cold and bright, sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows. I woke to find Beau already awake, propped up on one elbow watching me with a soft smile.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
“Merry Christmas.” I pulled him down for a kiss. “How long have you been awake?”
“A while. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Nervous?”
“Excited.” He kissed me again. “Come on. I want to give you your present.”
We made coffee and settled on the couch, the small Christmas tree I’d bought last week twinkling in the corner. I’d never been much for decorating, but having Beau here made it feel worth it.
“You first,” Beau said, handing me a box wrapped in silver paper with a navy blue bow.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I unwrapped it carefully, revealing a wooden box. Inside, nestled on navy velvet, was a brass compass—old, beautiful, clearly an antique. I picked it up, feeling the weight of it in my palm, and flipped open the lid. The needle moved, pointing north with absolute certainty.
Then I saw the engraving on the inside of the lid- So you always know where home is.
My throat closed.
“Beau—”
“I bought it before the party. Before everything fell apart.” He took my hand. “I wanted you to have something to remind you that no matter how lost or scared you felt, you had someone to come back to.”
“It’s perfect.” My voice was rough. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“You are to me.” I set the compass down carefully and pulled out a box of my own. “Your turn.”
Beau took it, his hands shaking slightly. Inside was a smaller wooden box—cherry wood, handcrafted, with his initials carved into the lid. And inside that, a letter.
“Read it,” I said.
Beau unfolded the pages—three of them, covered in my handwriting—and began to read. I watched his face as his eyes moved over the words I’d spent hours perfecting last night.
Beau,
I’ve never been good with words. Not important ones, anyway. I can argue a case in front of a jury, can draft a brief that wins appeals, but when it comes to telling you how I feel, I always seem to fall short.
So, I’m writing this down. All of it.
I love you.
I love the way you make me laugh, even when I’m stressed about work. I love how you take your coffee with exactly two stirs, never three. I love your jokes and your ridiculous optimism and the way you see the best in everyone, even people who don’t deserve it.
I love how brilliant you are—how you can take apart an argument with surgical precision, how you never give up on a case even when it seems impossible. I love how passionate you get about justice, about doing the right thing, about fighting for people who can’t fight for themselves.
I love waking up next to you, and the way you steal the covers and always hit snooze three times. I love making you coffee and watching you come alive as you drink it. I love our quiet mornings and our late-night conversations and every single moment in between.
But more than anything, I love who I am when I’m with you.
You make me braver. You make me want to be better—not just as an attorney, but as a person. You challenge me and support me and somehow make me feel like I can do anything as long as you’re by my side.
I’m sorry it took me so long to say this out loud. I’m sorry I was too scared to claim you, to show the world how lucky I am to have you. I’m sorry for every moment I made you feel like you were something to hide instead of something to celebrate. But I’m done hiding. I’m done being afraid.
You asked me to prove that I’m all in, and I promise you—I am. Completely. Irrevocably. Forever. You are my home, Beau Thatcher. And no matter where life takes us, I will always find my way back to you.
I love you, and always will.
Merry Christmas.
-Mason
By the time Beau finished reading, tears were streaming down his face.
“Mason,” he choked out. “This is—”
“Too much?”
“Perfect.” He set the letter down carefully in its box, then launched himself at me, kissing me hard. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” I held him tight, feeling his tears wet against my neck. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“This is the best Christmas ever,” he whispered.