Chapter 12
Gianna
The documents shouldn’t have existed at all.
I sat in the legal aid clinic library at eight p.m. on a Thursday, staring at discovery materials that had appeared in our case file as if by magic. Internal Devlin Holdings communications, procedural timelines with unexplained gaps, compliance reviews that somehow delayed their own strategy.
Everything we needed, handed to us on a silver platter.
Professor Diane had called it luck when I showed her earlier. Sam called it suspicious over dinner. I didn’t know what to call it except deeply weird.
My phone buzzed with a text from Sam.
Sam
Still at the library? You’re going to turn into a book.
Gianna
Books are more reliable than people.
Sam
Harsh. Also true. Go home before you forget what your apartment looks like.
I gathered my materials and stepped out into cool air that bit through my jacket. The subway ride home gave me time—about the case, the strange pattern of favorable developments, Sam’s joke that maybe we had a mole inside Devlin Holdings.
I hadn’t laughed because the idea sat uncomfortably in my mind, refusing to leave.
But dwelling on conspiracy theories wasn’t going to help anyone. The case was going well. Families might actually keep their homes. That felt worth celebrating instead of questioning.
By Friday afternoon, I was back in Professor Diane’s office, listening to her explain a new assignment that made my already overloaded schedule look laughable.
“Millbrook,” she said, sliding a folder across her desk. “An hour north. A community organization there documented displacement patterns from five years ago that mirror what Devlin Holdings is doing now.”
I opened the folder and scanned the contents—interviews, timelines, legal filings that had gone nowhere.
“You want me to interview them?” I asked.
“I want you to get their records and speak with the organizers. Their documentation could strengthen our case.” Diane leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes assessing me. “The organization’s leader is only available this weekend.”
“This weekend as in tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. Saturday evening.” She smiled without apology. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. They’re having a community meeting at six, and you can speak with everyone there.”
I thought about my to-do list, the studying I needed to do, and the brunch plans I’d made with Archie for Sunday—plans I’d been looking forward to all week.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
I left her office already dreading the cancellation call I had to make. Texting felt cowardly for something like this, so I found a quiet corner of the library and called Archie before I could talk myself out of it.
He answered on the second ring. “Gianna. This is a nice surprise.”
His voice was warm, pleased, and I felt guilty immediately. “Hey. So… I have bad news about Sunday.”
“You’re canceling on me.” He didn’t sound angry, just resigned. “What came up?”
“Professor assigned me interviews in Millbrook tomorrow evening. It’s an hour north, and I probably won’t be back until late.” I twisted my ring, a nervous habit I couldn’t break. “I’m really sorry. I was looking forward to it.”
There was a pause. Then his voice came back different, lighter. “Let me drive you.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Let me drive you to Millbrook. It’s only an hour each way. We can have an early dinner before your meeting, I’ll wait while you do the interviews, then we drive back. Make an evening of it.”
“Archie, that’s your entire Saturday night.”
“I know. I’m offering anyway.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’d rather spend the evening with you than spend it alone doing nothing. Besides, road trips are underrated.”
My chest felt warm. “You want to spend your Saturday driving me to interviews?”
“I want to spend my Saturday with you. The interviews are just the destination.” He paused. “Unless you’d prefer to drive yourself. I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing. I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Gianna, I’m not doing this because I feel obligated. I’m doing it because I want to.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “What time should I pick you up?”
I pressed my phone closer to my ear, suddenly very aware of my heartbeat. “Four thirty? That gives us time to get there before the meeting.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring coffee for the drive.”
“Thank you, Archie. Really.”
“Stop thanking me. I’m being completely selfish here.” His voice carried warmth that made my pulse stumble. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gianna.”
We hung up and I sat in the library holding my phone, smiling at nothing like an idiot.
Saturday afternoon arrived gray and threatening, the kind of sky that promised rain and meant it. I dressed in layers and comfortable clothes, packed my recorder and notebook, and waited by my window until I saw Archie’s car pull up outside my building at exactly four thirty.
He got out immediately when he saw me come through the door, walking around to open the passenger side. He looked unfairly good in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that made his gray eyes stand out even more, his hair slightly messy in that deliberately careless way.
“Good evening,” he said, taking my bag and setting it in the back seat. “I brought coffee. Two cups because I figured you’d need caffeine for interviewing people.”
“You figured correctly.”
“Smart choice.” He closed my door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in with easy confidence. The car smelled like expensive leather and the coffee he’d brought, warm and inviting. “Ready for an adventure?”
“Is that what we’re calling this?”
“Absolutely. Adventures sound better than work trips.” He handed me one of the coffee cups and pulled into traffic. “Besides, spending the evening with you counts as an adventure in my book.”
I took a sip of coffee and tried to ignore how pleased his words made me feel. “You’re very charming for late afternoon.”
“I’m charming at all hours. It’s a gift.” But he smiled when he said it, self-aware and teasing.
The city traffic was heavier now, everyone heading somewhere for Saturday evening. We made decent time getting out of Manhattan and onto the highway heading north as the afternoon sun started its descent behind gray clouds.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Archie said once we’d settled into the drive.
I thought about it, watching the landscape gradually change.
“I’m terrified I’m going to fail. Not just fail the bar exam or fail at being a lawyer, but fail at being the person my father thought I could be.
That all of this will be for nothing and I’ll look back and realize I wasted years chasing something I was never good enough for. ”
His hand moved to the console between us, palm up in quiet invitation. I looked at it for a moment before slipping my fingers through his. His hand was warm, his grip gentle but certain.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said, his voice serious.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you. I know how hard you work, how much you care, how determined you are.” He glanced at me, his expression intense. “You’re not going to fail, Gianna. And even if you stumbled, you’d get back up. That’s who you are.”
The conviction in his voice made my throat feel tight. “You sound very sure about someone you’ve only known a few weeks.”
“Some people you just know—from the first conversation.” He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, brief but deliberate. “Your turn. Ask me something.”
My pulse was doing something complicated from that casual kiss. “Okay. If you could go back and change one decision in your life, what would it be?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing patterns on my hand. “Some years back, I made a business decision that hurt people in ways I didn’t understand at the time.” He glanced at me. “If I could go back, I’d ask more questions. I’d look beyond the paperwork and see the actual human cost.”
His voice carried weight, regret that felt genuine. “I didn’t see it then. I was young and trying to prove myself.”
I studied his profile, the tension in his jaw. “Is that why you’re trying to reform things now? At your company?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to make sure we don’t keep making the same mistakes.” He squeezed my hand. “Maybe I’m just trying to ease my own guilt. Either way, I’m here now. Trying to be better than I was.”
The vulnerability in his admission made my chest ache. “We all have things we’d change if we could. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”
“Even when those decisions hurt people?”
“Even then. As long as you’re trying to do better now.” I squeezed his hand back. “Which you are.”
He looked at me for a moment, something complicated passing across his face. Then he returned his attention to the road, but his hand stayed wrapped around mine.
The conversation shifted naturally. He asked about my mother and I told him about her book club’s latest dramatic reading session. I asked about his childhood and he told me stories about growing up with Jake that made me laugh.
“Your parents must have been saints,” I said.
“My mother was. My father was terrifying when he wanted to be.” Archie grinned. “Jake learned early that my dad’s disappointed look was worse than any punishment.”
“And you?”
“I usually deserved the disappointment. I was very good at finding trouble.” He glanced at me. “What about you? Were you a troublemaker?”
“Absolutely not. I was the kid who did homework early and followed all the rules.” I laughed at his expression. “I know, I’m boring.”
“You’re not boring. You’re responsible. There’s a difference.”
“Responsible is just a polite word for boring.”
“Responsible is someone who knows what matters.” His thumb traced across my knuckles. “That’s not boring. That’s admirable.”
The way he said it made warmth spread through my chest. “You’re very good at making me feel better about myself.”
“I’m just stating facts.” He smiled. “Though if you ever want to be irresponsible, I’m an excellent bad influence.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the sky growing darker as evening approached and storm clouds gathered. The first drops hit the windshield about forty-five minutes into the drive.
“Can I confess something?” Archie said.
“Sure.”
“I was relieved when you called yesterday. Not because I didn’t want brunch, but because this gave me an excuse to spend more time with you.” He glanced at me, his expression sincere. “I’ve been looking for reasons to see you more.”
My chest felt warm. “You don’t need excuses. You can just ask.”
“Can I?” His eyes met mine briefly. “I want to see you more, Gianna. Not just occasionally. Regularly. Intentionally.”
“Like dating?”
“Exactly like dating.” He lifted our joined hands and kissed my knuckles again. “What do you think?”
I thought about the flowers still sitting on my kitchen table. About the way he looked at me like I mattered.
“I think I’d like that,” I said quietly.
His smile could have lit up the entire highway. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Small drops became a downpour within seconds. Rain hammered the car with relentless force and Archie slowed as visibility dropped to almost nothing.
“This escalated quickly,” he said.
“Can you even see?”
“Vaguely. Operating on faith here.” The wipers worked frantically but barely helped. “We should pull over.”
“How long do these usually last?”
“No idea. Weather that isn’t convenient confuses me.”
I laughed despite my concern. “You’re handling it well for someone who’s confused.”
“Excellent at faking competence. Calm outside, mildly panicking inside.”
Then the car made a terrible grinding noise deep in the engine. Archie cursed under his breath and guided us toward the shoulder, hazards flashing.
“That sounded bad,” I said.
He tried the ignition. Nothing. Just clicking that promised expensive repairs. His expression shifted to resigned. “We’re not going anywhere without help.”
He pulled out his phone and called roadside assistance. I watched his face change as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
“So,” he said when he hung up. “Good news and bad news.”
“Start with the bad.”
“Earliest they can send someone is three hours. The storm has everyone backed up and we’re in the middle of nowhere.” He looked genuinely distressed. “I’m so sorry, Gianna. This is completely my fault.”
I looked at the rain battering the windows with personal vendetta. Looked at the empty highway in both directions, gray and endless in the gathering darkness. Looked at Archie looking like he’d personally failed me.
Then I started laughing.