“Oh, don’t thank me yet. You see, since you aren’t covering corporate accounts, you don’t get to enjoy the monthly retainer fees they bring in, i.e., your portion of the profit-sharing is on hold until you end this case—”
“That’s not in our agreement! You can’t fucking—”
“Or what! You’ll sue me? See how that goes for you. Look, this should be an incentive for you. End this quickly, the money comes back. Understood?”
I stare at him with fire in my eyes. I’m not going to answer him and quite frankly, I’m done with this conversation. I stand up and head toward the door.
“Oh, Sarah, one last thing.”
“Yes, Kent?”
“Your secretary, Pam.”
“It’s Anne.”
“Yes, yes, Anne. She isn’t your sidekick to follow you around like a little dog on your every errand. She is being paid to be here and be a resource to the firm, not just you.”
“Last time I checked, Kent, she was my secretary, and I pay half her salary…”
“Yes, and I the other half. So, if you would like to have her only half as much as you do now, be my guest. Or play ball and take care of this justice crusade on your own.” He turns and sits back behind his desk again.
“Cocksucker,” I whisper under my breath as I leave his office.
“Have a nice day, Sarah,” his secretary chirps as I pass her desk.
“Fuck off, Nicole,” I say without looking back.
In my haste, I bump into someone and am taken aback before I collect myself and look up. The gentleman I ran into is with another man. Both of them have oddly familiar faces that I struggle to place immediately. My memory recall is temporarily hamstrung by my anger.
“Woah, woah, woah, Mrs. Morgan, where ya off to in such a hurry?” The words come pouring out laced with a heavy Texan accent. Now I remember. These are the two executives from PetroNext, the very two who sat in to observe Senator McCallan’s trial.
“Gentlemen,” I reply, not answering their question.
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” one of them says. It doesn’t matter which one as they’re spitting images of one another.
“I highly doubt you feel that way.”
“Fair is fair, Mrs. Morgan. And you won fair and square… this time,” the gentleman says to me, a smirk that can’t be described as anything other than nefarious, growing across his face.
“Right… Why don’t you both just run along into Kent’s office so he can play nice. I have actual work to do. Later y’all.” I blurt out. Not the smoothest of exchanges but I don’t have time for them.
As soon as I’m back in my office, Anne pops in. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing,” I say, without taking my eyes off my monitor.
“That bad, huh?”
“Can you just bring me some coffee?” I huff.
Anne nods and disappears quickly.
I didn’t leave the office early. I didn’t even leave for lunch. I stayed there all day like a goddamn hourly employee just to ensure my presence was known. Where does anyone at the office get off questioning me? I’ve worked harder than every other lawyer here, and I’ve earned my right to come and go as I please.
I close the hatch of my Range Rover, sling the reusable bags over my shoulders, and pick up an overstuffed box. It’s dark out, and I’m careful to watch my feet as I walk in order to not trip on the way up the stairs of the porch. My heels click on each step, and once I’m standing at the door, I consider knocking—for only a moment. Instead, I reach for the handle, pull open the screen door, and let myself in.
“Hello?” Adam calls nervously from the living room. “Who’s there?”
I don’t answer and instead walk into the kitchen. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room, dressed in sweats and a white T-shirt, sipping at a glass of scotch. He’s made no effort to shave or comb his hair. Despite all that, he still looks handsome.
“Sarah? What are you doing here?”
I set the box and bags down on the island. “I brought you some provisions.”
“Oh?” His face softens and he rises from the couch, slowly making his way into the kitchen, but still keeping his distance from me.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She got a hotel room to stay in.”
“I thought for sure she’d be the big spoon in your sleeping arrangement,” I jab.
“Oh, stop.” He chuckles. “She’s not that bad.”
I give a small smile and roll my eyes.
“You want a drink?”
“Yes.”
He walks to the wet bar and pours me a glass of ten-year-old Laphroaig. He returns to the opposite side of the island and places it down in front of me.
“I figured you would need some stuff. I brought you New York strip steaks, more scotch, some bagels, smoked salmon, cream cheese, eggs, vegetables, macadamia nuts, and ice cream,” I say as I pull out each item and begin putting them away.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
I look at him. There’s a smile on his face. There’s hope in his eyes. “I know.”
He takes a sip of his scotch. “Thank you.”
“I also brought you some writing supplies—paper, printer ink, ballpoint pens, and some stationery.” I unpack the other bag.
“You really didn’t have to do that.” He walks over and looks at the items. His eyes moisten.
“I know.” I pick up the glass of scotch he set out for me and take a sip.
We stand there sipping from our glasses in silence. I don’t know what to say to him, and I’m sure he doesn’t know what to say to me. To think that we were once the love of each other’s lives, linked as close as two humans can be, and now there is a chasm between us that is so deep and wide that it’s difficult to even call across to the other side.
Finally, he speaks. “What’s in the box?” He points at the cardboard box overstuffed with papers and folders.
I push it toward him. “I know you want to help, so I had Anne make copies of all the key evidence. It’s all in there and it’s yours to review.”
He looks at the box and then at me. His eyes bounce all over me.
“I just want you to know that I’m doing everything in my power to win this case. You have to trust me,” I add.
“I do trust you, Sarah.”
I nod and give him a small smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I have to get going but let me know if you find anything or if you need anything else.” I set my glass of scotch down and turn toward the front door.
“Sarah,” he says, his voice is quiet, almost like a whisper.
I stop and turn to look at him. “Yes.”
“Thank you… for everything.” His voice shakes. “You really didn’t have to do this. I… don’t really deserve this.”
My lip begins to quiver, but I bite down hard to stop it. I close my eyes for a second, and when I reopen them, they’re wet. “No, you… well… I have to go.”
Before I can take one more step away from him, he closes the distance, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into him. I want to stop him. I want to tell him no. These are the same arms that used to hold Kelly. To be a source of strength and comfort to her. I know he doesn’t deserve to hold me, but I don’t fight it. I let him hold me. I bury my face into his chest and I cry. I practically fall apart in his arms. He cries too. He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me tight. He tells me he loves me over and over again. I look up at him—my cheeks are wet; my heart is pounding. Tears are running down his cheeks onto mine.