“It’s a great house,” I concur. “I have a friend who’s a contractor. I’ll call him to find out what it would cost for a new roof, and that will give you a basis for how much to offer on the house.”

We get in my car, buckle up, and pull out of the driveway, Jenna throwing a wave to the real estate agent, who’s locking the house up. “Want to go get a late lunch before you have to pick up Damien?”

“Sure,” she says with a smile and then leans over to pat me on my knee. “And since I’m still technically broke until the money comes in, you’ll have to pay.”

I laugh and pat her hand in return. “My pleasure.”

Jenna is silent a moment and then she says, “But I want to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me and Damien over the last several months. I know you refuse to take a fee on the verdict, but I want to pay you back for the apartment, food, and clothes.”

“That’s not—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.

“With interest,” she says firmly.

I grit my teeth and don’t say anything. I know it’s going to be pointless to argue with her, so I decide to change the subject. “I think you need to reconsider the reconstructive surgeries.”

“What?” she asks in surprise.

“I get not wanting them done when they were only offering five hundred thousand, but with this verdict, there’s more than enough for you to have the surgeries done to correct the problems.”

“It’s not important,” Jenna scoffs at me, and in my peripheral vision I can see her wave an impatient hand.

“It is important,” I insist. “I don’t mean this to sound trite, but as women, our breasts define us. They’re an important piece of our femininity. You should get them fixed. You’re young and beautiful. It will make you feel better about yourself.”

She’s silent, so I add on for a bit of levity, “Plus, you’re going to want to start dating at some point. Your puppies need to be fixed to do that.”

Jenna snorts. “You want me to start dating?”

“I want you to be happy, find love. It’s important to have those things for yourself.”

“I agree,” Jenna says instantaneously, but something about her tone raises my warning hackles. “In fact, let’s talk about the importance of love and happiness in regard to your life.”

My head snaps over to her, and she’s staring at me with a stern look on her face.

“Oh, no,” I rebuff her. “This is not about me.”

“Let’s make it about you, then,” she says right over me. “You need to fix things with Reeve.”

“He betrayed us,” I say irritably, mainly because Jenna is hitting on a very sore spot. I miss the man tremendously, but my pride seems to be standing in my own way.

“He saved us,” she counters softly. “He gave us Rhonda Valasquez, and she saved our case.”

“But it wouldn’t have needed saving if he would have just—”

“Just what?” Jenna sneers at me and her tone brooks no nonsense. “The man did absolutely nothing wrong. And don’t forget, Leary, this was my case, not yours. He played the cards he was dealt. He played by the rules. He didn’t do it to hurt me personally. It was part of the game. So I want to know, if I can look at what he did and not have any bitter feelings, why can’t you?”

My mouth opens.

Then closes.

I open it again and don’t know what to say, so I close it once more.

Why in the fuck did it hurt me so badly when Reeve sprang those witnesses on me? Why did I have any expectation that he would clue me in on what he was going to do?

The only plausible solution I can think of is that I held him to the same standards I have for myself, and I have to wonder if that was fair. Should I have expected of Reeve an action that I would have gladly done for him had the situation been reversed? And if the answer is yes, does that mean that is so because I love him but he didn’t love me?

Am I hurt by the fact that Reeve didn’t care for me the way I cared for him?

I’m so confused, I continue driving on in silence. I have no idea how to answer Jenna’s question. When she says it like that, it makes me seem petty and immature. But at the same time, I cannot deny it physically hurt deep in my gut when Reeve sprang those witnesses on me. My body physically reacted because it took his actions as personal, and was perhaps my first indication that maybe my feelings weren’t being reciprocated.

And rather than discuss that with Reeve, I just cut him completely out of my life.

“Am I wrong to have been hurt by what he did?” I ask Jenna softly.

“No,” she says gently, “because when the heart is involved, feelings will get hurt. But you were wrong to break ties with him without discussing it.”

“What could he possibly say that would make it better?” There’s really not an apology I can envision that will take away the sting I’m feeling.

“He doesn’t need to say anything,” Jenna says, and I give her a quick glance. Her gaze is empathetic but there is condemnation there.

“Excuse me?”

“When he came to your door, he apologized, so frankly, Leary, he really doesn’t have anything more to say to you. He’s already said he’s sorry. Now it’s time for you to do the same.”

Anger surges through me, but then it’s overtaken by a flood of guilt.

He did apologize to me.

Profusely, in fact.

Then he went one step farther and laid his entire law career on the line by sending me Rhonda Valasquez.

He risked everything.

For me.

He not only met the high bar of expectations I set, maybe unfairly, but he hurtled over it.

And I was too stuck with anger and hurt feelings to even give him any credit.

As I pull into Reeve’s driveway, I imagine myself giving a closing statement to the jury. Except this time, the jury is going to decide my fate with the man I’m supposed to be with. I’ve decided against overt pleading, thought about potentially using sex to get him back on board but then tossed that away, finally just deciding that honesty and a simple apology will appeal to Reeve the most.

I have no clue if he’s pissed at me. Ford seems to think not, but I can’t discount the possibility.

What I can bank on is that Reeve is a genuine person and doesn’t have an intentionally cruel bone in his body. He’s truly sorry for what he did to me, and I have to assume that is still the case. I also have to assume, then, that he will at least listen to me and let me get my feelings out on the table.

And I’m not going to hold them back.

As I put the car in park, his front door is open, and my pulse starts skittering madly. Then it comes to a complete halt, and I’m afraid I might have just died an early death when I see Vanessa walk out of his house with Mr. Chico Taco on his leash. I wait for feelings of anger and jealousy to wash over me, but they never come. Instead, I feel massive disappointment that it’s not Reeve I’m looking at right now.

I get out of my car and Vanessa looks my way. Her nose scrunches up slightly, but she walks over to me as I close my door.

“He’s not here,” she says while eyeballing me up and down.

“When will he be back?” I ask, trying to keep a polite tone.

“Not sure,” she says as she shrugs her shoulders. “He’s in New York.”

“Oh,” I say dejectedly, my gaze dropping to the ground briefly. When I look back up, I give her a small smile. “Okay, I’ll just try him later.”

“Clearly you didn’t even know he was gone,” Vanessa says condescendingly. “I take that to mean you two broke up.”

The small smile slides from my face, and I level a steely look her way as I open my car door again. “Not really any of your business.”