Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(26)
“Should I be concerned about this?” he asked, signaling at me. “I’m glad you’ve taken such an interest with Nicole and her case, but I’ve seen you lose your cool in here and keep it contained in court, and I want to make sure that’s what’s happening here. Because you know if you lose it out there, they’ll have a field day with you, her, and this firm, and I can’t make you partner if you have a shitshow surrounding your name.”
I took a nice, calming deep breath. “I’m fine. I have court in a few hours with Sam Weaver’s case and that has me riled up.”
“How’s that coming along?”
“Good. I think we’ll be done with it today. He’s giving her everything she’s asking for, so I don’t see why we wouldn’t.”
Will nodded. “Focus on that, in the meantime, I’ll see what I can do about Nicole.”
I looked at the man across from me one last time and nodded as I stood and walked out. I packed up my briefcase and left to pick up Sam before we headed to the courthouse. Nicole’s issues would have to sit on the backburner for now. When I pulled up to the Beverly Hills mansion, I lowered my window, pressed the bell and waited until the two massive iron structures in front of me opened. I drove in, going around the ornate water fountain with the bronze mermaid in the middle, and parked in front of the steps that led to the house. I put my car in park and checked my email while I waited, and after sending out a few replies, I realized Sam hadn’t come outside yet. I called his cell phone, which he answered on the first ring.
“I’m outside,” I said.
“Going right now.”
He was saying the last word when he stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him before jogging down the steps to the car. I was glad he was wearing a suit, even if it was orange as f*ck and made him look like a Starburst.
“I thought you were gonna get out of the car,” he said as he opened the passenger door and adjusted the seat so it was basically lying all the way back. I looked at it questioningly, but didn’t comment.
“I’m your lawyer, not your prom date,” I said, and started driving. Sam chuckled, rubbing his hands together nervously.
“Damn. I can’t believe we’re finally getting this done with.”
“Let’s hope so. We had to pull in a lot of f*cking favors to get this done on a Saturday.”
Sam exhaled. “I’m just glad this bitch will be out of my life forever.”
I shot him a sideways glance as we reached a red light. “Not really. You have two kids with her, so you’ll be stuck with her for life.”
“But I’ll only have to deal with her during birthdays.”
I shook my head and started driving when the light turned green again. No use in bringing up school functions, sports activities, or basically any other life event that would technically include him. I didn’t know what his goals or plans were for his family, and quite frankly I would rather keep it that way. One thing I learned about this job was not to get emotionally attached to anybody involved, and shit got complicated when minors were at stake.
We reached the courthouse with just enough time to spare, and when the media started huddling around my car, I was glad for that. I knew it would take us at least ten minutes to get from the parking lot to the front of the building if Sam stopped to chat as much as he liked to.
“Don’t say anything negative about the divorce,” I coached. “Don’t say anything negative at all. Keep it positive. You’re co-parenting. You’re getting along. You’re looking forward to sharing custody of the children.”
Sam nodded and put on his megawatt smile and straightened his suit as he faced the first photographer. As expected, they started asking him questions about the divorce, his alleged affair, how he allegedly kicked his ex out of the house, and Sam answered everything like a pro. We walked with the cameras alongside us and took turns answering questions. When we got to the front of the building, we turned around and Sam said his final statement of gratitude that he’d surely practiced in front of the mirror.
“I’m so thankful to you guys, to my fans, to the team for standing behind me. I’m glad to put this behind me, and I’m looking forward to a good year on the field.”
The cameras snapped, snapped, snapped.
“One last question,” one of the reporters shouted. I squinted to see at the guy in the middle of the crowd.
“Last one,” I said, glancing at my watch. We had five minutes to spare.
“Mr. Reuben, what can you tell us about Gabriel and Nicole getting back together?”
That made me stall. I was caught off guard, not only by the question, but by the way my chest tightened in response. My first thought was, “she wouldn’t do that,” and that scared me ten times more than the one that quickly followed which was, “I hate when clients don’t keep me informed with the decisions they make.”
In the end, I dreaded that my two seconds of silence would be misconstrued and used against that case, but I was able to compose myself. “I’m not here to comment on that case. I’m here representing Mr. Weaver. Thank you.”
My phone rang the second we walked in, and seeing Corinne’s name on my screen has never made me feel more anxious and relieved at once. Unfortunately, I had to put it on the dish and walk through the metal detector before calling her back.