20. Jake
JAKE
Monday did what Mondays do.
Smack you upside the face with the reminder that it wasn’t Friday, it wasn’t Saturday, and it wasn’t Sunday.
Monday had a particular stench to it, and it deserved it.
When my computer whirred to life that morning, it reminded me of all that I’d avoided that weekend.
Emails.
Contracts.
Clients.
I sighed heavily.
But I was there. I’d shown up. And this stuff . . . this was reliable.
My law practice was dependable.
For a flash of a second, I heard my sister’s warnings about my dad, how hard he’d worked, how he’d given too much of himself to a business that was no stand-in for his family.
But that wasn’t my issue.
I’d taken the weekend off and proved I wasn’t married to work.
And today, I’d simply tackle my to-do list, see my nephew, and finish Educated .
There. I was standing in good stead.
Maybe Monday didn’t have a stench after all. Maybe it was all about perspective.
As I powered through calls and emails, I patted myself on the back for the perspective I’d gained over the weekend and counted myself lucky to return to the faithful old land of contracts.
Because falling for a woman was 100 percent not reliable. In fact, I’d bet women were far worse for your heart than work.
At the basketball court the next evening, I destroyed Adam and Finn.
It was wholly satisfying.
Especially since I was playing one against two.
But not quite as satisfying as the last time I’d crushed them.
Hmm.
That was odd.
But there was no point analyzing why.
As we took off, Adam clapped me on the back. “So, it’s come to my attention that I might have put my foot in my mouth yesterday morning.”
I shot him a curious glance. “So, just a regular day for you?”
But he didn’t laugh. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “It’s possible I might have said something to Kate at the gym. About you.”
I stopped walking, setting a hand on the concrete wall at the edge of the court. “What did you say?”
“I asked her if you’d finally found the cojones to ask her out.”
I scoffed. “Why would you do that? Are you a matchmaker now?”
Adam lifted his chin, owning it. “Because, dude. All you’ve done lately is work.”
Finn cleared his throat. “And it’s clear you’re into her. But you get all wrapped up in the job. Don’t you remember what you said to me a few years ago when I went through the same thing?”
“Yes,” I grumbled, my recollection of dragging Finn’s ass away from his desk after midnight crystal clear. “But I’m not as bad as you. I’m not working at two in the morning and living off energy drinks.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Give it time, my friend. You’re on the road to that. And when I was obsessed with work and miserable as hell, you told me to get my act together.”
“I’m not miserable,” I insisted.
“But you’d be happier if you were with Kate,” Adam said.
I pointed from Adam to Finn. “Are you two in cahoots with Christine? Because my sister said the same thing, and you all sound dangerously like a matchmaking service.”
“Your sister is smart,” Finn added. “And so are we. We’re looking out for you.”
I heaved a sigh, conceding their points, but only by a small amount.
“I hear you. I appreciate that you’re looking out for me.
But I’m fine. I’ve got it together. And as shocking as this may be to believe, Kate isn’t into your good friend Jake,” I said.
It was a helluva lot easier to admit the sorry truth when talking about myself in the third person.
“Probably because you’re so ugly,” Finn said.
“Definitely. She’s not into ugly dudes who work too much,” Adam added.
I flipped them both the bird. But curiosity about what went down with the Kate convo won out, and I took the bait. “So, what did Kate say?”
“That you guys were on the same page,” Adam said.
Frowning, I scrubbed a hand across the back of my neck.
Same page?
Were we on the same page?
Was that the thanks and you’re welcome page?
The it’s been fun page?
The no-strings page?
Then it hit me—maybe that was the same page. But maybe we were both on the wrong page.
Because why the hell would she think I was on any other page? I hadn’t told her. I hadn’t said I was interested in her strings.
I’d simply said you’re welcome .
And I was pretty sure that wasn’t what you said to a woman you wanted to spend your weeknights and weekends with.
I was pretty sure, too, that it wasn’t what you said to the woman who’d made you realize you could enjoy not working .
That you would survive being out of the office.
Because spending a weekend with someone I cared deeply for was a whole lot better.
All this time, I’d thought I needed to make the horse go faster to help my parents. To give them everything they didn’t have when we were kids. But that wasn’t the lesson to learn from my parents. The lesson was—find a way to be happy. Find a way to balance your life.
I took care of my parents just fine, thanks to the success of my law firm.
It was time to start taking care of my ticker too.
And saying you’re welcome wasn’t the way to do it.
That wasn’t what you said to a woman you’d spent the weekend in bed with. A weekend where so much more than role-playing had been on the agenda. Where conversations and meals, nights out and nights in, sleepovers and sex without role-playing had been on the agenda.
I parked a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Your foot looks great in your mouth.”
“Thanks. I think,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“It reminds me of what I need to do. But I need a favor from you.”
“Name it.”
I told him what I needed, then I headed to my car, focused on my mission.
What exactly should I say to the woman I wanted? That was the question, and I wanted the answer.
Because I had some strings to attach.