He opened his mouth to talk, and I held up my hand. “I’ll try the medication again if I can’t break the cycle soon.”
His mouth tightened, but he remained silent. Rene knew how much I hated taking medication and, even worse, how the side effects made me feel. But I was getting desperate enough to deal with the sluggishness that lingered. It might be better than the exhaustion, but I still resisted.
He pushed the tray closer, walked to the door, and paused. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
I had no fast retort to shout after him. I knew he was probably right, but I had no idea how to do a better job.
I picked up my sandwich, taking a bite.
I thought about what he’d said regarding the case. He was right. I’d done all I could for Eric. I could only hope his knowledge of the way his wife worked held true and, in a short time, Maddy would be back with him on a more permanent basis. I would go back to court to fight for the legal documents to make it forever.
I flipped open the file Rene handed me, determined this time my client would win out. I took the losses hard, because, to me, they were personal.
Every single case.
I rubbed my tired eyes, glancing toward the clock. I wasn’t surprised to see it was past nine. Darkness had descended outside, the only light in my office the reading lamp behind me. My lined notepad was filled with my “chicken scratch,” as Rene called it. Wyatt had found a lot of bad behavior from my client’s soon-to-be ex-husband, some of which would help disprove his side of the story and give any judge pause before granting him anything but supervised visitation.
I stood, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and sipping it as I stared out the window and thinking.
I only took cases I believed in. I fought for embattled spouses, kids too little to have their voices heard, teenagers being screwed by the system. I dug and searched until I was certain my clients were on the up-and-up, refusing to represent anyone I felt was lying. You lied to me, and that was it. I removed myself from the case. The truth, I could handle, work with, figure out how to let it do the least amount of damage if it was bad. A lie ended it all. I had learned early in life how lies could destroy a person.
There were no second chances with me—ever.
My stomach rumbled, interrupting my musings. I grabbed my coat, leaving my office the way it was. No one would enter without my permission. Not even the cleaners. They only came in when Rene was there to oversee them. I was too particular, and I didn’t like people in the office when it was empty. It was one of my quirks.
One of many, Rene would say.
I hurried across the street, the wind biting into my skin. The temperature had dropped, and rain was starting to fall. Autumn rain—the kind that dampened your clothes and got under your skin no matter what you were wearing. I shivered as I stepped into the neighborhood bar. I shrugged out of my coat, shaking it to get off some of the moisture, then headed toward the corner and my favorite booth. The bar was surprisingly empty for a Friday night and I was grateful. I ordered a half pint of Guinness on tap and one of their house-made burgers. I needed the meat and carbs. I hadn’t eaten anything except the sandwich, and that had been hours ago.
I settled against the worn bench, the padding on the seat thin, and scarred wood carved deep with various initials, dates, and hearts of loves long dead. I scrolled through my phone, switching profiles to my personal one. There were a few emails from advertisers, which I deleted. A couple of personal ones from friends inquiring about dinner or a show, which I quickly replied to as having to take a rain check, and finally, one from my mother.
I paused, my thumb hovering over the banner, unsure if I wanted to read the message now, wait until later, or delete it without even reading. I had come over to the bar to decompress and relax. An email from my mother would probably have the opposite effect on me.
I set down the phone and picked up my Guinness, taking a long sip. My gaze wandered, and I caught the eyes of a woman sitting at the bar. Her scrutiny never wavered, meeting my eyes steadily.
Bright silver and gray hair brushed past her shoulders in waves, hanging loosely around a pretty face. Glasses were perched on the end of her nose, giving her an impish look. Judging from her proximity to the bar, she was short. She wore a blue coat, draped over her shoulders as if to ward off the chill. In front of her was a Guinness—the same as mine. She lifted it in a silent toast, and with a smirk, I lifted my glass, then picked up my phone again. I had no interest in a cougar—even a highly attractive one. I glanced up quickly again—she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. My burger arrived, and I deleted my mother’s message without reading it and dismissed the thoughts of the pretty woman at the bar. I was hungry.
I switched profiles, checking my business one, knowing anything important would have been handled earlier by Rene. So, it was more to catch up from what had happened during the day and see if anything new had come in that I had to look at.
I scrolled as I ate. The thick burger oozed cheese and bacon, satisfying my hunger. I polished off the salad and fries, then pushed away my plate and ordered another small beer. While I was waiting, I finished my messages.
A Guinness slid in front of me, and I glanced up to say thanks. My eyes widened at the sight of the woman I had noticed at the bar, now standing by my table, her hand lingering on the glass she had placed in front of me.
“Is liquor the best way of getting your attention?” she asked.
Her voice was soft, lyrical almost in its quality. It was pleasant.
I shook my head. “My attention is focused on business right now, sorry.”
She slid into the booth opposite me. “Excellent. I was hoping you’d say that.”
I leaned back, studying her, shocked to realize she wasn’t an older woman at all. Despite the silver and gray hair, her face was youthful. She was younger than my thirty-six years—closer to thirty, I estimated. Her skin was ivory, with light color in her cheeks—from the alcohol or embarrassment, I didn’t know. Without her glasses on, her eyes were a verdant green—bright and clear against the color of her hair and skin. She wasn’t tall—below average I guessed, having not seen how high the heels were she had on her feet. She was delicate-looking—almost too thin in my opinion. Yet something about her gaze and the curve of her mouth hinted at intelligence, wit, and strength below the surface.
I sighed. “Listen, sweetheart. I’m flattered but not in the market right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s been a long week, and I just came in for a quiet beer and a bite to eat.”
The color in her cheeks deepened, but she refused to back down. “My, what an ego you have. Do all women you see hit on you?”
I shrugged. “Usually.”
She laughed quietly, pulling the coat tight around her shoulders. “I’m not here to proposition you, Mr. Smithers.”
I lifted one eyebrow in challenge. “You have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”
She held out her hand. It was small, easily encompassed by my much larger one. “Fiona.”
“Nice to meet you, Fiona. May I be honest here?”
Her face hardened. “I prefer honest, Mr. Smithers.”
“Since you assure me you’re not here to proposition me, I’m not sure what you want or need, but tonight isn’t the night to ask me for it.” I slid a card across the table toward her. “If you’re looking for a donation to some charity, there’s a link on my site to direct you. If you’re a reporter, I don’t talk about my cases. If you have a legal issue, I suggest you call my office at the number on the card, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Frankly, it will be a while because my caseload is full up. Tell my assistant what you need, he’ll pass it along, and I’ll recommend someone for you.”