We’re granted a cool evening with clear skies at the tail end of sunset. After not five minutes up there, though, the food arrives, sending me down to the street level to get it. I try to cool off before pushing onto the deck again. “Food is served.”
Not an hour after sunset, Tealey’s had her fill of tacos and is wrapped in a blanket on a lounge chair with her third glass of wine. She’s been staring at the stars since we came up here. And I’ve been staring at her from the other side of the firepit. I can, for once, without getting caught because the rest of our friends aren’t here.
“I’ve always loved it up here,” she says, looking at me. “Comfort found in the middle of chaos. The peace reminds me of your mom’s house in the Hamptons. Her property might be my favorite place in the world. Your mom is amazing as well.”
“She happens to adore you, too.” Kicking my feet out, I tilt back, searching for the stars among the skyscrapers. “She begs me to visit all the time.” I spy her grinning out of the corners of my eyes.
“I can’t even wrap my head around your life. It’s so big. Does that make sense?” I understand the disbelief. My life was privileged, to say the least. Still is. Her eyes remain on mine, that comfort she spoke of reaching me. “You never talk about the divorce, only that it led you to become a lawyer.”
“The divorce cost me everything—my mom’s peace of mind and my trust in humanity. I set out to defend the innocent and ended up helping the highest bidder. No good deed goes unpunished.”
“What happened?”
I take a deep breath. “The outcome of my mom’s life, and mine by default, was decided by a judge who knew nothing about my family except for our finances and what gossip columnists shared. You ready for this?”
I don’t expect her to answer, but she nods anyway. After taking a long pull of the amber liquid, I say, “When the judge awarded the properties to my mom, mainly due to my dad’s philandering, he blamed me, and I overheard my father tell his lawyers that he’d be a lot richer if he’d worn a condom.”
Sitting up, she covers her heart as if the ache is too much to bear. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll say one thing about who I choose to defend. They aren’t victims, but they share in their marital crimes and marriage misdemeanors like their spouses. There are no innocents when millions are on the line.”
“I’m not judging you, Rad. You’re a brilliant man who found a path that utilizes your cleverness. My skills don’t pay well, but I feel my job utilizes my abilities. We’re on a journey doing what we were drawn to do. With that said, everyone seems to be caught up in their own lives lately. I’ve been feeling somewhat disconnected.” The gentle breeze can’t whisk away the sadness hanging on her face even though I wish it could.
“Are you—?”
“I shouldn’t have any more,” she adds, waggling her empty glass. She leans her head against the pillow and directs her gaze back to the stars. “You know what Steve said when we broke up a few months ago?”
I know what I said—halle-fucking-lujah—though only to myself. Sitting forward, I rest my forearms on my legs and keep that to myself. No one in our group particularly liked Steve. He just never meshed with any of us, so there’s no lost love between him and us and vice versa. But it was still a blow to her that she weathered alone. “What?”
“He told me I was boring and had big thighs.”
What. The. Fuck?
Her tone didn’t deviate, but that had to sting, especially since it’s not true. My jaw clenches. I hope she can’t see my reaction. I’m usually better at controlling it.
“I never liked that fucker,” I say.
A burst of laughter fills the air, causing me to join her. “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys.”
“Why’d you keep that to yourself?” I’m shot a look that tells me she knows Jackson, Cade, and I would have paid him a visit. “Okay, then why didn’t you tell Marlow?”
“She has a lot on her plate right now dealing with an upcoming gallery show.” Yeah, and meetings with her personal shopper. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I hate when people pity me.”
How could she think we’d feel that way about her? “We wouldn’t pity you, Tealey. We’d probably treat you to a congratulatory dinner, though. He was such a punk.”
“You’re the worst,” she says, but her laughter tapers off.
Leaning back again, I swirl the remaining liquid around the edges of the glass.
“I should have told you. You’re just always so busy that I hate to be a—”