22. Honoria
Chapter Twenty-Two
Honoria
The suitcase of guilt I carried was only surpassed in size by the super-sized steamer trunk of denial I dragged with me every day since DA’s hospitalization. In the aftermath, I’d done my best to hide. I’d take extra time in the morning getting ready to cut the drop-offs short.
The trouble was, I didn’t need to do that. Wombat barely had time to greet me in the morning when I dropped off Molly. There were circles under his eyes. And in the evenings, he usually was with the club or picking up another rescue. Which meant I couldn’t talk to him even if I wanted to.
Did I want to? A part of me was screaming for just that. But that part was really small. The rest of me was much stronger and more stubborn.
DA was getting better, but between his health issues, the numerous drop offs and rescues, neither Wombat or his sister had much time for anything but survival.
It wasn’t a good time to talk.
That’s what I told myself. It could wait. I shouldn’t worry him unnecessarily. It would all be gone in a month, three…
Five.
Twenty-four.
But never thirty-nine, or simply nine.
Those numbers hovered in my thoughts. Their increments broken down into months, weeks, but never days. Except getting through the current one. That was the main focus. Get through each moment without thinking about anything in the future. It would come, eventually. And when it did, I’d break.
Which meant for right now, I focused on taking meticulous notes both for work and my therapist.
A soft knock on my office door made me look up. Jim was back to work. He stood at the entrance. “You got a second?”
I’d avoided him as much as possible. I glanced at my calendar to find an excuse. The trouble was, I didn’t have one. “I’m working on a brief.” I pushed the laptop out of range to let him know I had the time to listen.
“Listen, I… apologize.”
Do you now? My eyes must have betrayed my thoughts, because he blustered on.
“I know I have no right to tell you who to date or—”
“That’s enough. Do not bring that topic up here. I will take it to the partners.”
“Honey.”
“Honor.”
My correction caused him to twist his face into something resembling pain. Or maybe frustration. Frankly, I didn’t care.
“Do you have anything relevant to work to discuss?”
He glanced away, searching for a reply guaranteed to piss me off. He was good at that.
It must have been his years of practice and his keen observation skills that honed that particular fallible. Too bad he didn’t see more than he wanted to see. Otherwise—I cut my thoughts off. There was absolutely no way I was going there again.
He cut off my spiraling thoughts. “About the Destroyers account.”
“What about it?” At least his opening barb warned me where he was heading.
“There’s a few things you may not know.”
I motioned to the chair on the opposite side of my desk. Jim took it and adjusted his jacket so it wouldn’t wrinkle. He stalled while doing so.
“It’s that bad, huh?” I pointedly dropped my eyes to where he’d fiddled with his cufflinks. That was a tell. He was usually better with his emotions than that.
His mouth worked for a moment. “Okay. You caught me. I’ll cut to the chase. People around them have a habit of disappearing. Even people in their own ranks.”
“Are you certain about that?”
It was funny. In the brief moment he met my eyes, I saw something I hadn’t for a long time. Genuine concern. No, worse. Fear. It was the same look he had when I’d lost our first.
“I don’t have anything concrete.”
Which meant he had nothing. Still, I should be a team player. The problem was, Jim wasn’t being one. “I have done some research. Perhaps we should compare notes.”
“Honey.”
“Honor. Do I need to remind you again?”
“It’s a habit.” He hung his head.
“Break it.”
That earned another stare. This one was decidedly unfriendly.
“I mean it.”
His nostrils flared. “You’ve changed.”
To quote Wombat, “duh.” I didn’t say it out loud, but I’m certain it was on my face.
“You’ve even adopted some of his mannerisms.”
I closed my eyes. “Jim, we aren’t going there, remember?”
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Work, right?” He leaned in and tucked his heels behind the chair legs so he could lay out what he had. It included several off-record, hearsay accounts from police. I’d heard similar.
“Can we attach it to my notes on Mr. Blessing’s event in late October?”
He glanced up to read my expression as I handed him my typed notes about the bruising on his face and the possible police brutality.
“You took notes?”
“Of course.”
He scanned them. “Was this after you two started—”
That was uncalled for. “Are you kidding me?”
“A prosecutor would ask the same thing.”
They would. “Before. You’ll even see I included his words as he hit on me the first time.”
Jim read on. When he got to that part, he chuckled. “You shot him down.”
“Declined the compliment.”
His laughter got a little louder.
“I don’t see how this is funny.”
Jim quieted. “Then you aren’t seeing the big picture. Have the partners reviewed this?”
“It was in my conflict of interest report.”
His nod was small. “That’s why they wanted you leading the account. You are gold to them when dealing with these guys. One look at you and they forget to lie.”
“That is probably not true.”
He digested that. “You don’t think so?”
How? I’d barely spoken with any of them. And all Jim was looking at was my report. I’d been through my notes at least a dozen times. “It was standard case discussion.”
“He told you he loves you.”
Flight, fight, freeze. I refused to show weakness. “That hardly qualifies. I’m sure at that point, he’d say that to you if you’d have gotten him a bail hearing that late on a Saturday.”
Jim’s shoulders shook. His eyes held too much mirth at my expense. “But he did say it.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
“Has he said it since?” There was a slight grin on his face that dared me to lie. But the sad truth was, he hadn’t. And I had enough emotional fodder to fool myself with.
“No.”
Something shifted in Jim’s demeanor. “What do you mean, no?”
“Exactly what I said.” There was no emotion in my tone. It didn’t even cross my mind that I should have any about this. Why? It was as if there was an expiration date hanging out there.
Would it happen three weeks when my period came? Seven? Two months? Five?
Something deep inside me wobbled. The seismic cataclysm had begun. This was simply a warning rumble. I pushed it down.
“You don’t do affairs.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
Jim shifted in his chair. The tells were flying. He was uncomfortable, shaken, maybe even a little hurt. “Did I do that to you?”
“You didn’t—” I cut myself off. He had. But I’d also done it to myself. “It’s called growth.”
He frowned. “Growth is positive, not destructive.”
“Funny, my therapist doesn’t feel the same way. She’s applauding this.”
His expression darkened. “I don’t believe you.”
And there was the rub, wasn’t it? He’d spent so much time not paying attention to me that I’d moved past the point where we were in sync. “It is a good thing we aren’t married anymore then, isn’t it?”
His mouth hung open. The quiet devastation on his face was plain. I waited, maybe not patiently, but with a keen understanding that eventually, he’d grab onto something selfish and bludgeon me with it. And I was prepared for anything.
“Well, I hope it’s good fucking.”
There it was.
I smiled, knowing he’d exposed his Achilles Heel. But I remained mute. There was no need to say anything. The cat in cream expression on my serene face would be enough to dig silent barbs into his pride.
He gathered up his folders and exited my office.
Hopefully, he was a changed man.
But I doubted it.
Two hours later, Stephen knocked on my door. “May I come in?”
I was journaling. I set my pen down and motioned to the chair. I stood and settled on the small couch so we’d be at equal elevations. “How can I amuse you?”
He grinned. “I think you already have. Jim visited my office.”
“Let me guess, he had to tell you his observations of my affair.”
My boss snorted. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. He wants you off the account.”
“And, what do you want?”
There was a deep moment of introspection. “I really want my team to put aside their war.”
Damn. I was guilty there. “I didn’t fire the opening salvo today.”
He tipped his head, acknowledging that. “But I think you sank him this time.”
Good. However, it wouldn’t mean the end of the battle. This was too personal for Jim. “What can I do to make it up?”
His face fell. “Nothing. He’s being an idiot.”
Ah. I’d take that victory quietly. “And, the account?”
“Still good. Although, you might want to shore up your position with them.”
Without inconveniencing the client, I didn’t have any ideas how to do that. Walter Tipton was notoriously unavailable. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Stephen thought about it for a minute. “You got to work their timeline. So, if you ever get an invitation, don’t turn it down.”
He had more to say, so I waited.
“But please be careful.”
Duly noted.
On Friday I picked Molly up slightly earlier than usual. I had time to follow Lemon through the maze of cages, walled-off kitten enclosures, and the higher than usual amount of laundry that had piled up with each new crisis. “You look like you need help.”
She sighed and pointed to one of the enclosures. “I’ve got Fly.”
The way she said it wasn’t convincing. “You need more help. Our firm has company match for volunteer hours. I could put you in on their list.”
“Oh, that would be helpful if you could make that happen yesterday. We’re swamped. Hang on, I need to set up the squirrel feeder.”
She filled a multi-outlet rubber feeding bladder and set it into a cage of tiny squirrels. They were barely bigger than her hand. But they were healthy, highly active, and quite enthusiastic about eating.
Without thinking, I put a hand on my stomach. It was only for a moment before I shook off whatever insanity that lurked in my brain.
Lemon looked down where my hand had been.
She knew.
My skin prickled cold. “That was nothing.”