Head Over Feels

Staring at the water and ignoring the smirk on Cade’s face, I ask, “Helping a friend out? Thanks . . . You guys really think I’m an asshole, don’t you?”

I glance over at him.

He tosses the stone into the dirt and kneels to pick a weed. His brown is pulled together as if he’s actually having to consider my question. “No, not an asshole,” he says finally. “You’ve isolated yourself in a lot of ways since graduation.”

This is news to me. “We watch games together all the time.”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say all the time. Sometimes.”

“Sounds like you miss me.” I pop his arm with my elbow.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Laughter bellows from him as he discards the weed. “I’ve been buried at work and spend most nights planning this wedding. I’d marry Cammie today at the courthouse if she’d let me. But a big wedding makes her happy, and her being happy makes me happy.” He looks down and kicks the curb. “What I’m saying is I know busy. I get that you’re busy and want to make partner to break some record at the firm, but are you happy?”

Am I happy? Is he wanting to talk about real feelings? I’m surprised by the changing tide of his mood. I might have contacted him to help me see things clearer, but instead, the water feels muddier than before, causing my chest to tighten. “I wasn’t expecting a therapy session, Cade.”

“Sometimes we get what we need, not what we want.”

I could apply that to many aspects of my life, but the words hit home more today.

Stepping over the curb, I get closer to the water’s edge. “Why didn’t I know Tealey and Steve broke up until this week?”

“Refer to my previous statement.”

Fuck.

He adds, “And I can’t say I lost sleep over their breakup. Cammie was thrilled when she heard, but don’t tell Tealey.” He studies me. “If it makes you feel better, I hear everything from Cammie.”

I cross my arms over my chest, watching the water lap at the shore. We don’t need to fill every minute that passes between us, but so much seems to have changed overnight. Work is a nightmare, and now I have Marlow and Bob throwing a wrench in things.

Why does the best opportunity I have come with strings that dangle into my personal life? And it’s not like my personal life isn’t complicated enough. I now have these foreign feelings starting to become more familiar with each passing day for Tealey, who has always only ever been out of reach moving in with me. There’s the logistics of that life change, too.

I wish I could sort all that out myself. I should be able to. I’m Rad Wellington—I sort other people’s shit for a living. So why can’t I make sense of all this?

Here goes nothing . . .“I’ve had some things on my mind and wanted to get your opinion.”

“I’m here. Might as well make the most of it.”

I take a deep breath and then confess on the exhalation, “I need answers, a solution to a problem I can’t seem to riddle myself out of.”

Something in my tone must strike a chord because he says, “You know I’ll help if I can. What’s going on?”

Confusion on his face greets mine. Rubbing my chest, I say, “Emotional crap I can’t seem to shake.”

To himself, he mutters. “Emotional crap?” Then he squints his eyes at me, reading me like a wide-open book. “Feelings?”

Bingo. Feelings for Beginners—the CliffsNotes version. That’s what I need. A crash course in why the fuck I’m suddenly turning soft. I’m not even thirty, dammit.

I shove my hands in my pockets. Why is this so fucking embarrassing to talk about? “There’s a lot of shit going on, and most of it I can’t talk about.”

“Stuff at work?”

Nodding, I briefly glance over at him. “Cases I’m working on.”

“Trouble with women?” Stuck in an agreement with Marlow wasn’t on the agenda, but it’s something I have to contend with. “In business?”

“You could say that.”

“Are you going to make me work for every last tidbit?”

“You’re doing a good job so far,” I reply sarcastically.

He volleys right back. “Thanks, Dad.” Pacing, he adds, “Trouble with women in your personal life?”

I blow out a breath.

I wouldn’t say that I’m having a problem with Tealey exactly. But maybe that is the problem. It’s so easy to be with her—a newfound fact since I’ve stopped my self-imposed ban on being alone with her. For this very reason.

It’s not really my fault. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with her? She makes me laugh, smile, and forget about the pressures of work. I’m funny around her, more intelligent, more interesting. She makes me feel that way, at least.

Around Tealey Bell, I’m not just a high-profile divorce attorney. And, for some reason, I like that.