39. Reid
Reid
“I thought you died,” Drew’s words echo through my office, and I grit my teeth. Security has gone downhill these days; that’s for sure.
“Who let you in?” I ask without looking up from my desk. I have a new case that I’m taking on next week, and I’ve been trying to focus on it. Emphasis on the word trying. Obviously, my mind has been elsewhere. But that’s all right. Nothing a heated divorce won’t handle.
“I don’t have to be let in,” he states. “People know who I am.”
“And people also know who I am. And I am busy,” I say because I am very much not in the mood to talk right now.
“Not for me, you’re not,” Drew says, taking a seat in front of me at my desk, bumping everything in the process.
If I had to guess, it was deliberate. It’s the second thing Drew has done since walking in here that only he could get away with.
The first being the fact that he was able to walk in here without security on his ass to begin with.
Although I’m about to call them and have him kicked out.
“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he tells me. “Or even my text, for that matter.”
“And yet here you are not getting the hint that I really don’t wanna talk about the thing I know you’re gonna talk about,” I state, keeping my eyes on the paperwork for the case.
This time I’m representing the wife. It should be an easy steamroll considering the guy has a baby mama from a previous situation that the wife never knew about.
Not only that, but he’s been pumping money into his side family.
All dragging my client into financial ruin.
In short, it’ll be an easy case to win. And taking my current anger out on somebody like this ass hat is a nice outlet.
“I’m here because we need to talk about it.
And I’m pretty sure you know that.” Despite my cold temperament, Drew is adamant.
And knowing him, he isn’t going to stop until I address what he wants to talk about.
So I slammed my laptop shut and shove everything on my desk aside to give him my full attention.
Annoyed attention, but attention nonetheless.
“Alright, what do you wanna talk about?” I ask.
“The fact that Quinn isn’t who I thought she was?
The fact that she was lying to me the entire time?
The fact that she actually thought she could pull one over on an attorney like me simply because she believes in happily ever after and her daddy is a big shot lawyer? Not bigger than me, mind you.”
Drew nods his head while dragging his bottom lip through his teeth.
“You’re right. You are bigger than him. A bigger hypocrite, a bigger, hot head, and right now a bigger idiot.
Because you are letting the best thing that’s ever happened to you walk out the door and you’re doing nothing to stop it. ”
I chuckle at that. “Here’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t let her walk out the door.”
“No?” he asks with raised eyebrows.
“No,” I answer. “I walked out the door before she could.”
This time he is the one to chuckle. By the way, neither of our laughs are very humorous. “That sounds about right,” he says. “You would be the one to give up first. Especially if things were getting complex.”
“The only thing complex about it was the fact that I thought she was one thing and she was the exact opposite,” I growl. “I thought she was honest; I thought she was being real with me. Things would’ve never… Progressed the way that they had… If I had known what she truly was.”
“I see…” Drew nods while scratching his chin.
“And tell me, what exactly is Quinn? Because even though I’ve only been in a room with her a couple of times, the person she is inside and out is transparent.
She’s sweet and compassionate and real, and intelligent.
I mean, aside from the fact that she seems to want to put up with your ass. ”
“I can have you thrown out of here,” I snap.
“Right, because that’ll solve everything. Whether you walk away or kick me out, you’re still running from the problem.”
“Right now my problem is you,” I say. “And how did you find out about it, anyway?” I ask.
“People talk,” he says and I just stare at him. “Quinn told Dani who told Justin who told Nick who told me.”
“So what, you’re all best friends now?” I ask.
“When we need to have an intervention, yes,” he says.
I snort. “You and your fucking intervention can march right back out of my office because it’s not going to do you any good,” I say and attempt to go back to what I was doing. Not that it’s really working.
“What. Happened.” He demands, and I lean back.
“She lied,” I state after the world’s longest pause.
“About what?” he asks.
“Everything. Who she is. Why she agreed to go to the weddings. Who her father is. All of it. One big fat lie.”
“Who’s her father?” Drew asks through slitted eyes.
I smirk, though it isn’t a happy one. “Grant Bowen,” I say.
“Grant Bowen? You mean that lawyer you are constantly butting heads with?” he asks.
“Yep,” I nod.
“The one who wants to save every marriage, no matter how bad things are?”
“Yep,” I say again.
“The one who stays unnaturally calm even when things have clearly hit the fan and uses that as his tactic to make you look like a demon every time you open your mouth?”
“Yes,” I snap. “Grant Bowen is Quinn’s father.”
“But the name…?”
“She took her mom’s name when her mom died,” I explain.
“Jesus…” he shakes his head, offering a moment of sympathy for her. Then he loops back into the conversation. “So, other than keeping her daddy dearest from you, what else did she lie about?” he asks.
I take a measured breath before telling him about the Overholt case. Then I tell him about how We Still Do is responsible for Michael and Ashley going to therapy instead of going through with the divorce.
“And to top it off? The therapist is Quinn’s best friend.”
“Allegra,” he nods. “Right.” Then Drew nods for a moment, putting all the pieces of the shitshow puzzle together before he stops and his eyes find mine again. “So. Question. Why does it matter to you so much?”
“What does what matter?” I ask.
“The Overholt case. I mean, I know you put a lot of yourself into your work. And contrary to what a lot of people think about you and divorce lawyers in general, you really are just trying to prevent worst-case scenarios for people. But why does it matter if the Overholt’s decided not to get divorced after all?
I mean, if they can do it in a way that is genuine and smart, which it sounds like it is, why does it bother you so much? ”
“Because she used me!” I snap. “It’s not about the Overholt’s. Good riddance, for all I care. It’s about Quinn using them, using the case, using her dad, and using my money to prove a point.”
“And…what point is that?” he asks.
“That…what I do is a joke. That I am a joke. That what we had wasn’t real, and it was all to fuck me with…”
“What you had…” he echos. “So you’re admitting that you had feelings for her?” The question comes out more like a statement than anything, and it pisses me off.
“Of course I had feelings for her!” I shout.
“What do you think was going on at all those weddings? All that banter, do you think we were really fighting? Do you think I was spending time with her and texting her and taking her out and having greasy pizza with her at 2am and telling her about my fucking relationship all because of some contract?”
“No. I don’t,” he says calmly. Meanwhile, my chest is pounding so hard I think I might be having a heart attack. But after two seconds of whatever that was, I regroup.
“Yeah well. It’s over,” I state, shoving up from my desk. I open the cabinet and reach for the whiskey, then stop. Then I close the cabinet and walk over to the window and stare at nothing.
“Why, though?” he asks.
“Why?” I spin around. “Haven’t you heard a single fucking word I’ve said?”
“I mean, I heard that you figured out her dad is Bowen, which is inconvenient but not that ironic. You work together or against each other all the time. And I heard that her client came to We Still Do in hopes of saving their marriage. As far as I know, clients come to Quinn, not the other way around. And I honestly don’t really see how you came to the conclusion that even if Quinn did orchestrate any of this, she is using you for money because if I remember your contract correctly, the money was always part of the deal. ”
I bite my lip and nod. “So you don’t think any of it was part of her plan?”
“What plan?” he asks.
“Her plan to rip my reputation apart and use my money to fund her nonprofit,” I shout again. I swear this guy isn’t hearing me.
“Why would she do that?” he laughs. “Why would she want to hurt your reputation?”
“Because I am Manhattan’s most successful divorce lawyer, and she is Manhattan’s biggest romantic!”
Drew just stares at me. “If she believes in saving relationships that much, does it really make sense for her to want to ruin your life?” he asks.
I open my mouth to argue but find myself closing it again.
“Think about it, Reid,” he says. “And don’t take this the wrong way…but I can’t think of any woman who knows what you’re like ninety percent of the time who would willingly fall in love with you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snap.
“I mean, you were hurt. No doubt it was brutal. But most people have had their hearts broken.”
“Not like that,” I cut him off.
“Still. Most people don’t make it their entire personality.
Most people move on. Most people find love again.
Real love, true love, the love that was meant for him.
She wasn’t meant for you, and that’s why it didn’t work out.
You need to let that go,” he says and then nods up to me again. “Are you still in love with Lauren?”
“What?” I grit out.
“Are you still in love with the woman you thought you were going to marry?” he asks.
“Of course not!”
“Then let it go,” he says. “Let it go and accept that she was wrong for you. That it wasn’t truly love.
Because if it were truly love, she would have loved you back.
And she didn’t. But someone else will. Someone else does, if I had to guess.
And if you hold on to the anger you feel towards Lauren and let Quinn go, you’re going to be alone with nothing but your pain.
Not just the pain of the past, but the pain of losing your real true love. ”
I don’t say anything. I don’t know what I am supposed to say to that. Drew finally takes the hint that I really don’t want to talk about it anymore, and he sighs before getting up and heading towards the door. Then he stops.
“One more thing,” he says.
“Shoot,”
“You’re a good lawyer, Reid. And as a good lawyer, I think you can see how many holes are in your case. So I think you need to ask yourself what you’re actually arguing here. Because I think you’re afraid of something. And we both know fear is the worst enemy of success.”
Drew walks out and leaves me alone. Problematically, he’s leaving me alone with my thoughts.
And those thoughts are too loud to focus on work right now.
Once I have given Drew the chance to exit the building, I make my way out.
And no sooner than my feet hit the pavement do I hear the last voice I want to hear right now. And it’s not Drew’s.
“Remington,” he snaps, and I turn around slowly to face Grant Bowen.
“I’m in a hurry,” I tell him.
“That’s fine. I can make this brief,” he states, stopping right in front of me.
It’s funny, really. In a courtroom, we are always on opposite ends of the room.
There're tables and people between us, and we each hold our own space. But right now, there’s nothing but maybe two feet of air between us.
We aren’t lawyer to lawyer. We are man to man.
And that means holding our own in another way. Not that I’m intimidated, of course.
“Stay away from her,” he states with more sternness than I am accustomed to.
Don’t get me wrong, Grant is a hell of a lawyer.
But his tactics in the courtroom are less sharp and more…
deliberate. There’s an approachability to him.
Of course, that’s all missing right now.
Right now, he isn’t Grant Bowen, Attorney. He’s Grant Bowen, Quinn’s father.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. Is it a lie? Eh. I’ve never been one to jump to conclusions.
“Quinn is my daughter,” he states. As if I don’t know.
Hell, I’m pretty sure that he knows I know.
But he’s saying it anyway to prove a point.
“And I know more about what’s going on between you two than I care to know.
And certainly more than you’d like me to know.
So I am going to say it one more time as one man to another, August. Stay away from my daughter. ”
Our eyes lock for a moment, neither of us wavering. It’s a standoff for sure, alpha to alpha. Neither of us are intimidated. Neither of us is willing to back down. After a moment, I click my tongue.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “It’s over.”
And with that, he blinks. There’s a flash of something in his expression. Almost like that’s not the answer he wanted, even though it’s the answer he was asking for.
“Good,” he says with a curt nod. “Because the only thing that would be worse for me than imagining my daughter with a guy like you is my daughter having a broken heart because of a misconception about a guy like you.”
Grant walks away, and honestly, I have nothing to say to that. Because while it was a major dig at my integrity, my mind is stuck on one part of it. Quinn’s heart is broken. Whether or not I believe that, I’m not sure. But either way, I’m not okay with even thinking about it.