Or shift and let her enjoy it.
I face the windows, sipping my coffee, and when she opens the fridge, I watch her in the reflection. She pulls out the creamer but still doesn’t pick a mug. I’m sure the chaos of the cabinet stumps her as it did me. Mugs aren’t something I want to think about before having my first cup. Or ever. I don’t tell her that, but I appreciate the uncomplications of a simple white coffee cup.
The cabinet closes, and she says, “I might try to rest for another hour.”
Although she’s not asking me, I turn back and nod. “Searching for the perfect mug to use can be exhausting.”
She returns the creamer to the fridge. “That’s funny, Welly, or it’s early.”
“Guess we’ll never know.” Smirking, I shrug.
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She gives me a wink, and then wordlessly, she slips back down the hall and closes her door.
Turning back to the outside, I look up, scanning the sky for stars to enjoy the last moments before dawn breaks.
Tealey Bell is distracting in ways that don’t truly bother me. I just can’t seem to figure out why. Cade’s diagnosis comes to mind, but that was us messing around.
Love is the furthest thing on my mind and love with Tealey . . . “Don’t be ridiculous, Wellington.” I run my hand through my hair, refusing to let that idea sink in. My personal life is sidelined for my career. I have no time to indulge in attraction when I have a full load of cases. Making partner. That needs to be my sole focus.
At this rate, I should either try for more sleep or just go to work early. I choose the latter since I’m caffeinated. Since my body’s already been scrubbed clean twice in the past four hours, I get dressed.
Before I leave, though, I wash up the mug, returning it to the cabinet, and then stand in the kitchen debating if I should leave a good-morning-I’m-off-to-work note or text for Tealey. We’re roommates, not dating. So I’m out the door before Tealey leaves her room.
On the car ride to work, I let my regular driver deal with the traffic while I check emails to get a preview of the day ahead, starting with my schedule. I have court this morning and then meetings all afternoon. That means another late night of research to prepare for next week’s court hearings. My work is literally never fucking done.
That didn’t bother me at one time, but over the past couple of weeks, I’ve lost some of my enthusiasm for the job.
Cade wasn’t wrong. I have missed a lot of my friends’ lives simply because I have a job that requires an unreasonable number of hours. And maybe because, for the first time, there’s someone at home I’d rather see or enjoy a meal with instead of eating stale protein bars in the break room.
* * *
Running off adrenaline and caffeine, and after having two cases settle in my clients’ favor, I sit with Ashleigh at a café down the street from the office. Though there’s no time built into the day to take off, I needed a breather.
After sipping an espresso, she sets the cup down, the china clanking together. “Want to talk about it?”
My gaze flicks to her. “Talk about what?”
“What’s on your mind? You’ve been staring at that intersection for five light changes like you’re going to be tested on traffic patterns.” She nods her head to the right. “You haven’t even noticed that a cat is sitting in a stroller at the next table.”
I glance at the stroller. Sure enough, there’s a tabby contentedly sitting inside. Our eyes meet, and it meows. “Only in New York.”
“Yep, only in New York.” She turns her attention to her laptop and runs through a list of files that need to be verified before entering evidence, talking through each one with me. She’s right. I’ve been staring off into space until she says, “Mr. Marché’s initial offered wasn’t accepted, as we expected. In addition to sparing their reputations, his soon-to-be ex-wife has sent a list of demands to keep the settlement locked.”
“And?”
“I’ve sent you the list.” She turns her monitor to face me.
I lean down and scan the list. “Some are reasonable.” I glance at Ashleigh. “She wants to release a statement, but doesn’t want to allow his side? We’ll be pushing back on some. When am I scheduled to meet with Bob again?”
She types, and then replies, “Two weeks. I wouldn’t normally suggest this, but Marlow has also requested a business lunch that day. Would you like me to make a reservation for the three of you? Two birds. One stone?”
“Confirm with Bob first, but I think it makes sense. If he’s open to discussions in front of Marlow, make a reservation at Highland on 5th.” There’s no other reason to meet with Marlow. Our agreement has gone rather well so far. Without Bob, we’ve had no reason to put on a show.