“My sisters look after him.” There was a pause. “Molly, listen—”
She felt a flash of breathless panic.
“You’ve never told me much about what you do. All I know is that you’re a divorce attorney.” She spoke before he had a chance to ask her to dinner again, not because she was afraid to refuse him, but because she was afraid that this time she might accept. And accepting would lead to hurt and a possible threat to the life she’d built for herself.
He glanced at her. “Judging from your expression, you don’t love divorce attorneys. How did my kind wrong you?”
“I’ve never had any involvement with divorce attorneys, but it’s true that generally I think divorce is a horrible thing.”
“I would agree with you.” He took a sip of coffee, taking his time. “Which is why a good lawyer can make all the difference. And if there’s one thing more horrible than divorce, it’s being trapped in a horrible marriage. The horrible part generally starts long before I’m involved. I try not to escalate the situation.”
Whatever her thoughts on the subject, she was sure he was a very, very good lawyer. “You don’t find it depressing? Working with people at the end of their relationship the whole time?”
“Sometimes. And sometimes it’s satisfying, helping someone extract themselves from a situation they find intolerable. Either way, I try and maintain an emotional distance.”
Could someone be that close to another person’s distress and not absorb at least some of it?
“Divorce is so final. Don’t you think it would be better if people tried to mend things before they went seriously wrong? It’s like ignoring a hole in a sweater.”
“What if the sweater didn’t fit properly in the first place?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Sometimes people can fix what’s wrong, and sometimes they can’t. If they can’t, then maybe they can part amicably, but sometimes that isn’t possible and they need to lawyer up. That’s my professional opinion.”
“You don’t feel bad about it?”
“About being good at my job? No. The truth is that sometimes marriage is nothing more than a big mistake and you have to cut your losses and get out.” His words slid deep into a sensitive part of her she usually kept protected.
Was that what her mother had done?
Had she seen her husband and her only daughter as a big mistake?
She swallowed. “How do you know you’re not breaking something that could possibly be fixed?”
“By the time people walk in through my door, what they have is already broken. I show them how to move forward with the least damage.”
“What if there are children involved?”
The change in his expression was so brief she would have missed it if she hadn’t been staring right at him.
“You’re one of those people who think parents should stay together no matter what? You think that’s a good thing?” To someone less obsessed with studying people, he would have seemed relaxed. But she noticed the small signs of tension. And that tension told her that his attitude was colored by something more than professional interest.
“I’m one of those people who think if two people loved each other enough to get married, they should at least try and rediscover some of those feelings they had at the beginning. I think sometimes people give up too easily.”
“Is that a professional observation or a personal one?”
“Professional.” She paused. “And maybe a little personal.”
“A little? Did your parents divorce?”
“My mother left when I was eight. I’ve put it behind me, but I suppose I’m still a little sensitive about that particular topic.” She had no idea why she’d told him something so private. It wasn’t something she usually talked about, certainly not with someone she barely knew. She felt embarrassed, as if she’d removed her clothing in front of him, but he didn’t seem at all uncomfortable or disconcerted.
Instead he reacted as if exchanging confidences was something they did regularly. “How’s your relationship with her now? Is it awkward when you see her?”
“I don’t have a relationship with her, so no, it’s not awkward.”
“You don’t see her?”
“She thought a clean break was easier for everyone.”
“And was it?”