Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“We can still be friends,” I offer.
He nods weakly. “Yeah. I’ll let her know.”
I breathe a little easier, swiping a roll from the breadbasket as soon as it hits the table.
I’m saved. All I have to do is pretend I’m with Mara, and Anson won’t try to set me up with his Bert-look-alike sister.
Well, I have to get Mara to go along with it, too. I wonder if I can convince her the tacos, wine and brownies were worth a favor of this magnitude.
I should probably have an entire case of wine in hand when I ask. And more brownies.
Chapter Eight
Mara
* * *
“Are you sure there aren’t any new filings stacked up under one of our desks?” I lower my brows and look around the office I share with Jayden.
He gives me a wry look. “It’s not the 1980s, so if there were more cases, this handy invention called a computer would let us know. I think we’re—”
“No, don’t say it! You’ll jinx us.”
“It’s because we had Robson this week instead of Hampton. Robson don’t play. She likes her courtroom efficient and on time.”
“Hampton wasn’t made for traffic court.” I run a hand over the empty spot on my beat-up old wood desk where pending case files are normally stacked.
Jayden snorts with amused agreement. “He wasn’t even made to be a judge. Performance theater is his game.”
Every time one of us says, or even asks, if our workload is caught up, it’s like a Bat-Signal to drivers in the county to speed, run red lights and drive while blindfolded. So we try to be cool about it and not tempt fate.
It’s 4:55 p.m., and we’re going to be able to leave for the day. I could take some work with me, but after a long day of hustling hard in court, I’m not feeling it. Maybe I’ll actually have an evening to relax.
“I think I’m leaving now.” There’s a questioning note at the end of my sentence because lately, Jayden and I take turns forcing the other to power down the computer by 5:15 so we can badge out before 5:30 and not get busted working late.
“I’m right behind you.”
“You have plans tonight?”
“Dinner with Jana’s parents.”
I stand and grab my coat from the coat tree in the corner of our office. “Nice. You like them, right?”
“For the most part. Her dad has asked me at least fifteen times over family dinners why I bothered to go to law school to work at a job that pays less than seventy grand.”
I scoff. “He sounds delightful.”
Jayden grabs his suit coat from the back of his work chair. “Perks of our salaries being a matter of public record, I guess.”
“No, he’s being a dick.”
“We’ve beaten the subject to death, so hopefully it’s over. My fantasy football team kicked his team’s ass this year, so I try to steer the conversation toward that topic.”
I walk out of our office and he turns the light off, locking the door behind us. We used to have our own offices, but we work more efficiently sharing one.
“How about you?” Jayden asks on the walk to the elevator. “Got any plans?”
“I’m going to enjoy the quiet of my apartment. Maybe catch up on some Housewives.”
He cringes. “Jana loves that garbage, too.”
“Well, not all of us are highbrow enough to spend our downtime rooting for pretend football teams.”
“Okay, fair.”
The elevator doors slide open and we step inside, several other courthouse employees joining us. Once we’re on the first floor, Jayden waves and we head in separate directions. His fiancée, Jana, is a first-grade teacher, but I’ve only met her a couple of times. Jayden and I are friendly, but not friends, which is how I like it.
My coworkers have never seen me drunk and unfiltered, and I plan to keep it that way.
Light snow is falling when I walk outside. I button up my wool coat and pull my gloves out of my coat pockets, putting them on.
The crunch beneath my feet takes me back to a trip I took with my parents to Chicago when I was a kid. It was before our lives were upended, and I assumed all our days would be as magical as that one.
My mom loved the holiday window displays downtown, having visited them with her parents when she was growing up. We lived in Arizona, and I’d never seen snow other than in pictures.
I don’t think I stopped smiling once that day. The crunch of snow beneath my shoes as we walked, the magical holiday decorations and getting to ice-skate outdoors with my parents as holiday songs played created a core memory.
They took me into a toy store and let me pick out a new stuffed animal. I chose a white unicorn with a rainbow horn. If I saw it today, I’d probably break down in tears. Memories of the good times are bittersweet.