Chapter 2 #2
Izzie stood in the entryway, grinning from ear to ear.
She wore her usual uniform of dark green canvas pants and a black tank top, and her currently purple hair was loosely fastened on top of her head.
A thick folder under her arm completed the picture.
Izzie wasn’t officially part of the staff, but she was there so often, she might as well be paying rent.
But her own office was small and the coffee there terrible and that was all she needed as an excuse to spend most of her time on the couch in their reception area, as long as there were no clients.
She was their in-house genius private investigator, helping them with their difficult divorce cases.
She was extremely loyal, extremely direct, extremely quick (be it physically or verbally), and extremely curious.
Which probably served her well in her job, but didn't serve Connor at all. All in all, she was wonderful, but no one would ever dare say that because Izzie cared as much for compliments as she did for Connor’s womanizing.
She always claimed to be allergic to strawberries and sentimentality.
Maybe that was why they got along so well – because they were similar in that area.
Well, in terms of sentimentality, not strawberries.
He and Cian had been working together since they’d gone into business for themselves three years ago.
Connor had grown tired of his former big law firm and downtown Los Angeles, and Cian wanted flexible hours so that he could adjust his time to meet his daughter’s needs.
Starting a law firm together had been the best decision they’d ever made.
He’d never told Cian, but spending every day with his best friend felt like hanging out with his family, which comforted him whenever he missed his real relatives.
“So, why are we talking about Connor’s inability to have a serious relationship?”
“Oh God, not you too,” Connor groaned.
Cian grinned. “We should be nicer to him; he’s had a shitty morning. Lost an argument.”
“I didn’t lose!”
“You’re still angry, so Rachel definitely won.”
“Rachel?” Izzie frowned and sank down onto the yellow couch in the open foyer.
Ada had picked it. If it were up to Connor, everything would be black, but his goddaughter could be persuasive.
Connor and Cian each had their own offices, and there was a conference room, but these were all equipped with glass walls that darkened at the touch of a button during client meetings, so their office felt like a giant loft.
“Rachel Maddie’s sister, the renowned couples' therapist?”
Good God, did everyone know more than he did?
“Yep.” Cian nodded.
“Great. Maddie will be ecstatic about that; Rachel’s been away for so long. I’m not really here to chat, I just wanted to drop something off and…” She looked around, waving the folder in her hands. “Where’s your new paralegal?”
Oh, crap.
“Isn’t he here?”
“Um,” Connor said.
“I thought maybe you’d given him time off,” Cian said, surprised.
Connor snorted. “Yeah, right. He quit.”
“Oh no.” Cian dropped his head into his hand. “Connor…what did you do?”
He raised both hands defensively. “I didn’t intentionally make him cry, but…”
“Seriously? After just two days?” Izzie asked, perplexed.
Connor frowned. “I was impressed with myself too.”
“Man, Connor, at this rate, the agency won’t send us anyone else soon. And because of you, I owe Izzie fifty bucks.” Annoyed, Cian pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket and counted the bills into Izzie’s outstretched hand.
“Please! He was incompetent and started every other sentence with, I saw in a TikTok video,” Connor said, defending himself. “That was totally unreasonable.”
“You know,” Izzie remarked conversationally, “some people say that about you too, Killer Whale.”
He rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname. “I never understood the comparison.”
Cian raised an eyebrow. “You mostly wear black and white and have incredibly sharp teeth. It fits.”
“I’m not up to two tons yet.”
“Yeah, you still have to work on that. But since you had to scare off our temp... Izzie, give Connor the folder with the paperwork for Teager vs. Teager. Now he’ll have to deal with the paperwork on his own.”
“Sounds fair,” Izzie said cheerfully, handing it to him.
“Anything else you need from me? Should I dig a little deeper? Mr. Teager has had a few affairs, but nothing indicates he was cheating before the official separation. Unfortunately, he also seems to be a decent father. It’ll be difficult to take away his full custody. ”
“We don’t want to forbid him from seeing his children,” Connor said, shaking his head and gulping down the rest of his coffee. “He requested sole custody just to piss off his ex-wife. God, I hate cases with children involved.”
“I know.” Cian stood and massaged his shoulder before strolling over to the coffee machine. “Thank God you have a crazy bet going on to distract us.”
“What bet?” Izzie asked, confused.
Oh, shit. He’d have to talk to her about that later, since he’d so freely nominated her to judge the bet. But he wasn't going to say a word about it now.
“I’ll get breakfast,” he said abruptly. He had an urgent need to leave the room.
“Cherry Danish,” Cian piped up immediately, as if he were a novice.
“What bet?” Izzie repeated. “I want something with poppy seeds.”
Of course, Connor knew that too. “Let Mr. Charming-Innocent explain,” he murmured, leaving the office.
The sun shone cheerfully on the empty boardwalk and pier.
Later this afternoon, it would be teeming with tourists, surfers, roller skaters, and small families.
Santa Monica wasn’t any quieter than Los Angeles, simply more idyllic.
More intimate. Less stressful. But maybe that was entirely due to the ocean.
Connor had always enjoyed staring at the waves and imagining them carrying his problems away with every ebb.
Taking a deep breath, he strolled past the old garage, which hadn't been rented since he bought the house. He kept his eyes fixed on the ocean so he wouldn’t be tempted to check if Rachel had swapped her Crocs for other shoes.
His friends were wrong. He wasn’t relationship-challenged and he wasn’t anti-love.
He had eyes and, contrary to what many thought, a heart.
The thing was, once people were convinced they’d met their soul mate, they started putting we before I.
They no longer cared about whether they were happy, but only about whether their partner was.
They became emotionally dependent on everything the other person did, said, wanted, and didn’t want.
What Match Me! was selling wasn’t love. It was the false idea of a perfect relationship.
And, no, he wasn’t a fucking expert at good relationships.
But shit, he knew what a bad one looked like!
He saw it every damn day as he picked up the pieces left over from expectations too high and false ideas of the word love.
He walked faster, pushing away the memory of Rachel’s sincere expression as she’d claimed that all the promises they made at their agency were true. She didn’t know what she’d claimed then…
“The end is near!” a scratchy voice interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced to his left.
Standing next to the path was an old, bearded man wearing a stained white t-shirt and a sign announcing the apocalypse.
Tomorrow, his sign would trumpet something about climate change, and Wednesday, usually a smiley face.
Connor’s favorite sign was the raised middle finger.
“Ah, it had to happen sometime,” he replied lightly, stopping. “While you wait for it, do you want a piece of coffee cake or a breakfast burrito, Winnie?”
The bearded man lowered his sign. “Oh, yes, please. I’ll take both. One’s last meal should be special.”
Connor battled a smile. “You’re right.”
“Can you add another bottle of water? It’s going to be warm today.”
“Coming right up. Do you have sunscreen?”
“Yeah, Tara brought it for me earlier.”
Winnie lived in a tent on the beach, and since he’d lived on the promenade the longest of all, he enjoyed special treatment. They’d all offered him a job or a room, one after the other, but he always just said that normal life wasn’t for him. No one dared to ask why. Besides, it was his decision.
Connor’s phone vibrated with a text. It was from Alice, the jogger he’d chosen for his first date, assuring him that she’d love to come with him and his friends to quiz night at the Sunny Umbrella tomorrow.
Usually when he met up with a woman for the first time, he was alone.
One-night stands were rarely introduced to friends, but since he was serious this time and was looking for the woman of his dreams – and wanted to prove it to Rachel, Tara, and Izzie – it seemed like a good idea to throw her right in to the weekly pub night.
He smiled smugly. He didn’t have Rachel’s number, but he did have Maddie’s, so…
Tell your sister I have my first date tomorrow night. She’d better get a move on.
So: Get breakfast, sort through the files, reassure the clients, and find the woman of his dreams.
His to-do list wasn’t really any more complicated than usual.