I pound out a quick text to Reeve. Did you get my message? Are you ignoring me?

No hesitation before I hit Send. My anxiety over potentially driving Reeve away for good won’t let me second-guess my desperate nature. I even briefly consider getting in my car and going over to his house to demand he talk to me.

But then the thought of what I might find when I get there scares the shit out of me, and I immediately discard the idea.

Ford stayed over for about an hour, cleaning me out of all my cheese and fruit as well as a bologna sandwich I made him. We actually talked about Jenna’s case, focusing on how best to lay out the expert witness testimony. While I love my easygoing friendship with Ford, and while I can never adequately tell him how much I appreciated his friendship tonight, one other reason why I will always hold the highest respect for the man is his legal prowess. He’s an amazing litigator and even more brilliant strategist. Most of what I know I learned from him. Most of the mistakes I’ve made in my career he’s helped me work through and taught me how to avoid in the future. Ford will help me prep for the trial as we get closer, although I won’t have him sitting at the counsel table with me. I want the jury to see just Jenna and me, the tiny little Davids up against the Goliath insurance company and their passel of attorneys I’m sure will be there, each individually billing out hundreds of dollars per hour.

Reeve doesn’t text me back. I know he’s awake because he’s a night owl. Many nights we’ve spent together, he would make love to me, or fuck me, depending on his mood, and I would be so tired I’d go to sleep.

Not Reeve.

He’d get up and go into the living to watch TV, usually ESPN’s SportsCenter, or he’d pull out some work. Sometimes I’d awaken at one or two in the morning and tiptoe into the living room. I’d find him wide-awake, surfing channels or reading legal cases. I’d crawl onto his lap, and with nothing more than a soft kiss on the side of his neck, I’d entice him to come to bed so he could get some sleep. It was almost as if I was taking care of him in that respect.

All the little things I shared with Reeve that I took for granted.

Until now.

Sadness that I haven’t heard back from him washes over me. I can’t waste an opportunity to let him know what I’m feeling.

I send him one more text.

I miss you.

Then I turn my phone off and try to go to sleep.

CHAPTER 16

REEVE

What a fucking day.

As I drive through my neighborhood, I heave an internal sigh over the work I need to get done tonight.

On my client’s orders, I need to prepare a brief in opposition to the motion for sanctions against Tom Collier that Leary filed this morning and faxed to my office. She didn’t waste any time, and as was my duty, I immediately forwarded it to Tom to review. In my e-mail to him, I explained that the law was on Leary’s side, that he was under court order to attend the mediation, and by failing to do so was in contempt. I also explained that he would be best served to just roll over and pay the $10,000 she was asking for as recompense.

I’d like to say I took Leary’s side in this out of some sense of guilt over what happened yesterday, but it’s not that. Bottom line, the law’s in her favor and there’s no sense fighting a losing battle.

So why am I bothering to work tonight to get a brief prepared if the law is against me?

Because that douche Tom Collier is refusing to take my advice. We argued for thirty minutes on the phone, but he clearly doesn’t care that he’s going to lose this motion. Instead, he insisted I go ahead and file a motion for sanctions against her for what she did in Jenna LaPietra’s deposition.

I spent another ten minutes trying to explain to the moron that technically, Leary didn’t do anything wrong. Was it in poor taste for her to call him out like that on the record? Absolutely, but the only fix to that was to ask the judge to strike that portion from the record, which he would definitely do.

No judge would award sanctions for her behavior, and some judges—like Judge Henry, who was fond of Leary Michaels—would actually be amused.

Tom was having none of it and ordered me forward.

And because he is TransBenefit’s representative, and TransBenefit employs me, I have to do what he says.

Within reason, of course.

I agreed to prepare the brief and followed up with a confirmation e-mail of same. I wanted it in writing that I was advising him not to do this and that he ran the risk of severely pissing off the judge and getting hit with harder sanctions than the $10,000. I did not agree to file the motion for sanctions against Leary. I told him it was frivolous and was pushing my ethical boundaries to do so, and if he had a problem with that, he could take it up with the partners at Battle Carnes.

He didn’t respond, so I decided to wait the entire day to see if he would change his fucking mind.

Moron never did, so that’s why I have to work tonight on a brief that will be an absolute waste of time and just piss Leary off even more.

Of course, I’m not sure I really care if I piss her off more. I’m still pissed at her, despite her apology voice mail. I’ll admit, I warmed a tad when she texted me last night and told she missed me, but I held strong and didn’t respond.

I wanted more time to think.

While logically I get why Leary was so upset, and I can even forgive her for trying to make me jealous by saying she was going out with Ford last night, the one thing I can’t get past is the way my job and role in the LaPietra case trouble her. She’s upset that I’m defending this case and is having a hard time reconciling that with her personal feelings for me. She’s not easily handling that I wear two faces in this relationship.

And the truth of the matter is, if Leary was that upset over the adjuster failing to show at the mediation, what in the hell is she going to do when I pull out my surprise witnesses at trial, who will tear Jenna to pieces? She will never, ever forgive me for that. She’ll never be able to understand I’m just doing the job that I’m not only paid for, but that my ethical duty demands I do.

So I didn’t call Leary back because I’m not so sure we should continue. I’m not going to lie, I desperately fucking miss her. I couldn’t stand not having her in my bed last night. Couldn’t stand not waking up with her this morning.

But what’s the point of going back to that?

I’m just going to lose it again in a few weeks.

I have a decision to make, and nothing about this day has given me any further clarity on the issue. I’m wondering if maybe I should call Cal and talk about it with him. Or maybe even Ford.

I didn’t have a single qualm about Leary telling me she was going out with Ford last night. I trust her and him not to do anything. I know in my heart she was just trying to make me as mad as she was. And it worked for a bit, and then I recognized it for what it was—a failed attempt to hurt me so she could alleviate some of her own pain.

Just as I turn onto my street, my phone starts ringing. Because it’s hooked up to my Bluetooth, I hit the Accept button on my steering wheel, and the call connects through my stereo speakers.