“Yeah, I remember him.”
“Well, he’s going through a messy divorce, and apparently his wife has some documents related to that investment that could be damaging.”
“Statute of limitations still open?”
Blake nodded. “Unfortunately.”
“Okay...how can I help?”
“Fill in for me at dinner tomorrow.”
Shit. “I, uh, have plans.”
Blake sat up a little taller. “So do I. And I’m counting on you to handle this for me.”
Of course I couldn’t say no. So I nodded. “No problem. I’ll rearrange my schedule.”
Dickson got up and headed to the door without so much as a thank you. He turned back at the last minute.
“The vote’s coming up soon. I’ll be honest, I was pretty much team Mills when the candidates for partner were announced. But you’ve proven to be someone I can rely on, someone I can trust to have my back.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me, though I put on a solid fake smile. “Of course. Happy to help out.”
“I’ll have my admin send you the details.”
After he left, I slumped in my chair. I didn’t want to go to a damn dinner; I wanted to spend the evening with Autumn. Her two-nights-a-week rule was already killing me. Going down to one wasn’t an option.
When the email from Dickson’s assistant came in, I asked if we could possibly move the seven o’clock dinner to six.
The rest of the day got away from me, and it was almost eight before I checked my email and found a response confirming she’d been able to switch the time. Hopefully Autumn wouldn’t mind getting together a little later. I knew her friend was over for their Bachelor marathon tonight, so I didn’t want to call and interrupt. Instead, I shot off a text.
Donovan: Would you mind if we had a late dinner tomorrow night? Something came up at work, and I have to go to a dinner meeting with a client at six. I can probably be done by eight or eight thirty.
Autumn responded right away.
Autumn: Boy, I’m going to start to get a complex. First, Skye cancels on me, now you’re changing our date… Just kidding. Sure, that’s fine.
Donovan: Did Skye really cancel on you?
Autumn: Yeah. She thinks she has the flu.
Donovan: Sorry to hear that. I know you were looking forward to it.
Autumn: We’re down to the last five episodes, and I can’t watch TV or go on social media because I don’t want to accidentally find out who won! I told her if she tests positive for the flu, I’m watching without her because I need to go online.
I chuckled. I could never understand how so many smart women loved that dumb show.
Donovan: Spoiler alert. He picks the one no one likes.
Autumn: OMG! Are you kidding me? He picks Meghan?
Shit.
Donovan: I was joking. I have no idea how it ends. Or how it begins, for that matter. Though most of that shit ends the same way—whatever is best for ratings.
Autumn: You almost gave me a heart attack. Meghan sucks!
I laughed to myself.
Donovan: I’ll text you when I’m on my way tomorrow.
Autumn: OK. Have a good night.
***
The hearing I had the next afternoon wound up taking two minutes because opposing counsel showed up and asked for a last-minute continuance. Since I was meeting Dickson’s client at a restaurant closer to my house than the office, I figured I’d work the rest of the afternoon from home. I had prep work to do for a trial coming up, and home had fewer distractions anyway.
As I walked in, my cell phone rang.
I smiled and swiped to answer. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Is that a downgrade from gorgeous? I think I was gorgeous yesterday.”
“Definitely not.”
“I was just thinking—you asked if we could have a later dinner because you have to meet a client for dinner, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would we go out to dinner if you’ve already eaten?”
I shrugged. “You have to eat. Plus, I want to see you.”
“I want to see you, too. But we could just hang out here. I’ll eat before you come. Skip dessert with your client, and I’ll make you the best ice cream sundae you’ve ever had.”
I smiled. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, that sounds great. Want me to pick up some ice cream on the way over?”
“No need. I have all the supplies from my canceled plans with Skye last night, including fresh, chocolate-dipped waffle cones. They’ll go bad before she’s able to come over. She tested positive for the flu.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. I’m going to drop off some soup for her on my way home from work. But I gotta run. I’m about to go into the subway.”
“Alright. Be careful. I’ll see you later.”
I changed out of my work clothes, grabbed my laptop, and settled in on my couch. My office maintained a portal online where I could sign in and download the depositions I needed to re-read. But as I clicked to the web, an ad popped up for the new ABC streaming app. It advertised some of their hit shows available, including The Bachelor. I smiled, thinking of Autumn, and clicked to close it. But instead of hitting the X, I must’ve hit the icon to make it larger because a preview of a bunch of women getting out of limousines popped up, and some doofus handed them each a rose. I went to click off a second time, but then a girl stepped out of a stretch limo wearing a belly dancer’s costume.