Chapter 20
SARAH
MILES: I have a meeting in NY the week after Thanksgiving. I’ll fly in on my way back. I only have the afternoon.
______
Garlic. Sour, old garlic mixed with death. It’s all I smell, and it’s so strong I want to reach for my purse and shove tampons up my nose.
“Why is that in there?” Cory breathes, and I lean away as he scrutinizes the Louis agreement. “Custody has not been resolved.”
With that tone and the stench that might infect my brain, I want to ram my chair backward, hopefully catching his toes.
From what Kat has told me, this couple has been fighting over the cat for the last six months. One using it as leverage over the other. Only this week, Mrs. Louis finally agreed to rescind her rights to the eighteen-year-old feline in exchange for the vacation home in Florida.
“Mrs. Louis has turned over custody of the cat,” I state, then hold my breath.
Cory makes some kind of throat-clearing noise. I might gag. I want to give him a bottle of peroxide and have him swish for an hour.
“Do you have correspondence of that agreement?”
This joker and his Dracula breath are about to find out what a three-inch heel feels like shoved up his micromanaging ass.
After Miles’s inconsiderate message this morning, I’m in no mood to deal with Cory’s patronizing attitude .
I twist in my chair, causing him to back up. “Listen, I know I’m relatively new here, and I have a lot to learn. But my ears work perfectly fine, and I can read. I will pull the correspondence Kat emailed me, but this will be the last time you hover over me and question my competence.”
His jaw flexes, but at least his mouth is now closed.
“I’ve been patient with your condescending tone and complete lack of respect for my ability to do this job.
If I make a mistake, I will own it. You did not hire me, and nowhere in my job description does it say I am to report to you.
” I lean forward in my chair a little. “So, from now on, if you come into my office, it better be because you actually need something.”
I hear snickering in the hallway as I watch his neck and face flush.
“Would you still like to see the email?” I ask, turning back to my computer and not giving his skinny, arrogant ass one second more of my attention.
I hear him exhale. Ugh. I’ll have to borrow the can of air freshener from the bathroom to extinguish the smell.
Without a word, he turns and leaves.
Two seconds later, Marcie appears in my doorway, her hand hiding her grin.
Her shoulders scrunch as she enters. “You sounded like Kat. He’s terrified of her.”
“Does he talk to you and Robyn like that?”
Robyn and Marcie’s priorities may consist of nail care and the latest social media buzz, but they do a great job of ensuring they are on top of their duties, with the occasional inappropriate or TMI comment.
She shrugs. “I don’t think he has any friends,” she whispers. “Like, he has a guinea pig named . . .” She covers her mouth again, hunching down and trying not to laugh.
“Harry Pooter,” Robyn spits from around the doorway.
I raise my eyebrows. “What?!”
Both of them squeeze into my office, trying to hide their laughter .
“It was supposed to be Potter because apparently Cory is obsessed. I heard him on the phone with the vet one day. They had it listed as . . .” Marcie starts laughing again.
“Pooter,” Robyn wheezes.
I laugh. “Seriously?”
They nod in unison, tears in their eyes.
“He has a guinea pig named Harry Pooter?” I have to cover my mouth now to keep from bursting out laughing.
“He is nutso over the thing,” Robyn says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it sleeps with him.”
“When he’s especially rude and treats us like we’re stupid, we ask him questions about The Poots.” Marcie’s shoulders rise, and her eyes grow wide as she grins. “He hates it.”
I think about Brandon and his tiny, snarling wiener dog. “I have a neighbor who has a mini wiener . . .” I don’t even get to the last word, and they are bent over wheezing.
I laugh, too, and it feels really good. Who knew Cory had a heart in there for rodents? Then again, it kind of fits.
“I need a good dose of joy. What’s so funny?” Kat slides around them and plops into the chair. “Uh. What did you eat for lunch? Onions on a bed of cabbage?” Her nose wrinkles, and she waves a hand in the air, her beautifully bright-painted nails glimmering in the light.
Marcie holds up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”
“Cory was just here hassling Sarah again,” Robyn says, wiping under her eyes to ensure her eye makeup is intact.
“That shit. I’ll talk to Griffin and—”
I hold out my hand. “It’s fine. I finally told him to knock it off. If he doesn’t, I’ll say something to Griffin.”
Kat’s sly smirk appears in approval.
Marcie returns, squirting small puffs of perfume from a miniature travel-size bottle into the air. “It’s Dior. You deserve the good stuff. ”
“This is great.” Robyn clasps her hands together. “Since you’re both here, Marcie and I were trying to organize a birthday happy hour for Seth.”
I watch Kat to see how she responds, wondering if she’s aware of Marcie’s crush on Seth.
Kat’s head falls to the side, her eyes lifting to Marcie. I should never underestimate her.
She presses her fuchsia lips together. “Ok, little pigeon. We’ve been over this.”
Marcie bites the corner of her lip, avoiding eye contact.
“Seth is a great guy, but he’s happy being a bachelor. When we were in law school, he didn’t even date, worried his mom would shove him down the aisle. After Alex called off the wedding, you can be sure he’s not looking to end up there again anytime soon.”
“It was clear as day he and Alex weren’t right for each other,” Robyn says.
Kat squints one eye and taps her temple. “Now, why would a guy be with someone so incredibly not right for him?”
The room falls quiet as Kat waits for an answer. Marcie’s eyes dart to Robyn.
“Self-sabotage,” I pipe in.
One side of Kat’s mouth lifts. “Ladies, I’ve known him a long time. He’s not looking for a committed relationship. I mean, he’s hanging with Junior.”
“But Junior is such a flirt,” Robyn says.
Kat scoffs. “Yep, and that’s all it is. For him, it’s the challenge. He’s had everything he’s ever wanted handed to him. He wants what he can’t have, and once he has it, he doesn’t want it anymore.”
It’s so familiar it stings.
She points at them. “Let that be a lesson to you. That man leaves broken hearts in his wake. Seth isn’t like that, but he’s happy where he’s at. Single. ”
“Well,” Marcie starts, moving things along. “Can we still have a happy hour? It’ll be fun. We never do it, and it’ll be close to the holidays, so it can be like a Christmas party.”
“Only if there’s tons of balloons to piss Seth off,” Kat demands. “He hates his birthday.”
Marcie grins. “And a big cake. We’ll go to Crusins.”
“If we go on a Friday, they have the best music,” Robyn adds.
“You girls plan it, and we’ll be there.” Kat slumps down in the chair.
“Great!” They clap as if party planning is what they were born to do. “We’ll work on reserving a space.”
“Wait.” I stop them before they scurry off to start planning. “I won’t be able to make it.”
They turn back.
“Oh, yes you are.” Kat slides up in her chair. “This one time, you’re coming. If there are balloons, cake, and an irritated Seth, you have to come. He won’t be mad at you.”
“Oh, wonderful,” I say. “I’ll be the buffer because I’m the new girl.”
Kat smiles at me. “See if your nanny can stay late just this once.”
“You have to come,” Robyn says, pressing her hands together in plea. “It’ll be so fun, and we never do this all together.”
I succumb to the pressure. “Fine. Once you have a date, I’ll see if Helen can stay a little later.”
“We’ll look at calendars and then email a poll to see which Friday is best.” Marcie grips Robyn’s hand, and they rush out the door.
“I wish I still had their energy and enthusiasm,” Kat groans, running a hand over her face.
“You ok?” I rest back in my chair, twisting toward her as she slumps down again.
“I negotiated custody of frozen embryos all morning. I’m tired and a little burnt out.
I was up late the last few nights researching and preparing.
I think I need a vacation.” She slides her hands behind her neck and pulls her long black hair up over her head.
She lets out a breath. “People don’t warn you of the emotional toll this job takes. ”
She looks worn out, and I recall my conversation about no-win situations with Griffin.
“How do you do it? Be a mom, have a full-time job, and go to school all on your own?” There’s a gentleness in her tone I’m not sure I’ve heard before.
I push out a breath. “Not very well most days.” I laugh. “I don’t have a choice. I’d do anything for my kids, so I work hard and do my very best, but school takes a back seat. That’s not turning out so well academically.”
She offers a small smile. “In college, I kept thinking, I’ll get through school, then get married and have kids. But I got through school and began working . . . This job takes every second of my time.”
“But you’re helping people,” I say, wanting to encourage her and selfishly remind myself of why I’m pursuing this career.
“Am I?” She shakes her head again. “Lately, I’m not so sure.”
I think about Slade being Krissy’s guardian, and I know Kat helped ensure she stayed with him.
She lets go of her hair and sits up as the long waves cascade around her again. “Ugh. Enough of my whining. So, you found a cesspool in your basement over the weekend. What’d you do?”
“Well, I called a plumber who was completely unhelpful, so I ran over to the neighbor who just so happens to be Slade.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Really?”
I nod slowly. “Turns out the main broke.”
“Is it fixed?”
“Yeah. But the water was off all weekend.”
Her face scrunches. “What did you do? I mean, you have the kids, and your ex doesn’t live here, right?”
I’ve not shared anything about Miles. Would anyone in Cincinnati know who he is? Not likely, but that’s all about to change when he hits New York and The Morning Show. I need our marriage and the disparagement that followed to be left behind in Chicago .
Would Kat believe me? Maybe. She’s smart and has seen the worst of relationships end in war. Am I willing to take a chance? No. This is my job.
“He doesn’t. We stayed with Slade and Krissy.”
A slight smirk replaces her surprise. “How was that?”
Slade helped me carry everything across the street this morning before I dropped the kids off at the retirement community with Helen.
I thought I’d lost my cookies agreeing to stay with him and Krissy, but when Slade told me everything was ok, he must have meant it because it was. There were parts of it that were even nice. Better than nice.
It was fun going to the park and watching Slade lift Ollie onto his shoulders when he was too tired to walk to the car.
But when I turned and saw Frankie wrapped in his giant arms, giggling her squishy face off, I couldn’t look away.
I wanted to absorb every second. It was a moment Frankie hasn’t had and one I’ll never stop wishing for her—the safety and security of a man’s arms.
My chest warms at the memory. “It was actually really great. Ollie had the best time.”
We had fun, and that’s something we haven’t done in quite some time.
Her eyelids fall, and her mouth slides sideways even further. “You know, he’s tall, ruggedly handsome, and there’s this soft, sensitive side he seems to keep locked away under that forthright personality.”
Slade is nothing if not straightforward, but I sensed a whole lot not being said this weekend. I could almost feel his mind working, and I wanted to know what was happening behind those long pauses and green-eyed stares.
It all stirred feelings I thought were withered by misplaced trust and betrayal—thoughts and feelings that generate joy, excitement, and anticipation. Annnndd a few sexy thoughts I have no business thinking .
But I don’t have room for those kinds of feelings. I have to keep my head down, focused, and never get distracted again.
“You’re right,” I admit. “But we’re just neighbors, and I think it’s possible the big grump might even say we’re friends.”
She laughs. “Boy, do we need those.” She fills her cheeks with air and blows it out. She stands. “If you have time, I’m reviewing a new case. Now that you’re an expert, I could use some help sorting through assets.”
“Sure. Send it my way.”
She stops in the doorway. “You know, it doesn’t hurt to flirt a little with a big hunk of a man.” She winks and disappears.
I roll my eyes for no one to see. The absolute last thing that will be happening is flirting.
My mouth has a mind of its own, and I can’t help the involuntary sarcasm that spills out.
It’s what helped me survive my childhood and my mother’s constant obnoxious dramatics.
I’m about as good at flirting as I am at answering a rogue question on social issues.
My phone buzzes, and I flip it over.
SLADE: Did you hear from the city? Is the water on?
ME: Hi! How’s your day?
SLADE: Fine.
ME: I can tell there’s a smile under that ‘fine.’ I bet the guys have to wear sunglasses to handle all that sunshine.
SLADE: When you get home, you’ll have to turn on the shut-off valve.
ME: Aye, Aye, Captain. If the flood waters rise, I’ll Mayday.
I smile. I just can’t help messing with him. He’s like a giant geode I want to crack open to see what lies inside.
I got one smile that showed off his hidden dimple and a couple of chuckles. They were deep and warm and soothed my wary insides like rain after a long, dry spell. I want to hear that low rumble again and know I made it happen.
I rest my elbow on the desk and drop my head into my hand. I will not want to hear that subtle, deep laugh again. I have absolutely no right to wish for it.
But it’s a really nice laugh. The kind that makes your belly leap with joy, then charges up and bursts into a smile.
I groan. I’m on Operation Get My Life Back. That is what I’m doing. I won’t be thinking about my neighbor’s rare smiles, his tattooed muscles, how warm and safe he feels, or the fact that my kids seem to love him.
No. No. No. Nooooo. No. No. No.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I slump in my chair.
I was sidetracked by one man, and that won’t happen again. Ever.