Meet Cute(33)

Friday nights are meant for dates and boyfriend time. And now I have to wonder just how much of a nuisance Emme and I are to her life. I pull up her contact and hit the Call button. I guess I’m about to find out.





Chapter Nine





Dinner Date Interruptions


Kailyn



Holly eyes my plate. I nod to my fries. “Go ahead. I can sense your salad remorse.”

She nabs one from my plate and dips it in the chipotle mayo. “I have pictures of Hope. She’s trying to walk.”

She’s referring to the pro bono adoption case I took on months ago, around the same time Daxton dropped back into my life. Who knew how deeply involved I’d become in either situation. “Everyone’s doing well? Is the birth mother still clean?”

“So far, yes.”

“That’s good, I hope it stays that way.” The Lipsons agreed to an open adoption, and the birth mother has supervised visitations, provided she isn’t using. So far it’s helped her stay clean.

Holly reaches for another fry. “It’s a good arrangement for everyone involved. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Well, I love doing it. It’s a lot more rewarding than trusts, if I’m honest. Speaking of, I’d like to set up another meeting with the Wilsons to go through the adoption paperwork for Eli. I figured you might want to be there for that.”

Holly nods. “Definitely. Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course. Let’s figure out a date.” We both pull out our phones and check our calendars. These pro bono cases are quickly becoming the favorite part of my job. Knowing I’m giving these kids a chance to grow up in a loving, stable home reminds me of my own adoption. I’d spent the first three years of my life in a state of perpetual uncertainty until my adoptive parents came in and rescued me. After we set up a tentative meeting, we move on to lighter topics.

“Any hot dates lately?” It’s mostly a joke; Holly and I spend the majority of our Friday nights together.

“I wish. I don’t have time to shave regularly these days, let alone time for hot dates.” She sighs. “I hate this whole online generation crap. Why can’t I just meet a nice guy in a coffee shop, or the library or something?”

“I think you’d have to frequent coffee shops and libraries for that to happen, wouldn’t you?” I ask.

“I guess it would help if I started drinking coffee. What about bookstores? That would work, wouldn’t it? I could just sit around and wait for some cute guy with glasses to comment on the book I’m pretending to read, and we could strike up a meaningful philosophical conversation.”

“In an ideal world.” I understand exactly where she’s coming from. As I approach thirty I recognize that what I want in a partner isn’t going to be found at a loud bar on cheap draft night. And truthfully, I haven’t put much effort into dating since I graduated from law school and my dad passed away. Love can be too painful, especially when you lose it.

“I’d ask if you’ve had any hot dates, but I think I already know the answer since all you do is work.” Holly gives me a wry grin. “Speaking of, how’s your teenage crush doing these days?”

I smile a little, thinking about how he reacted in my office the other day. He was certainly riled. “Moody and antagonistic about covers it.”

“So he’s still wearing his asshole pants?” Holly knows all about our history.

“He apologized for being a jerk, so that’s progress.”

“Did he apologize for what he did in law school?” Holly does her arched brow thing.

I give my head a slow shake. “Maybe he doesn’t remember? Who knows?”

“You think he’s conveniently forgotten that he handed in your paper late?” Holly asks.

I stir my drink. “You know how people’s memories are, they can alter and shift to suit their own purpose. Besides, it’s irrelevant now. I got the job I wanted straight out of law school, so it really shouldn’t matter anymore.”

“Does that mean you’ll be fine working with him?”

“I’ll hardly see him. Our departments are on opposite ends of the floor.”

“But you will see him if he’s working for the same firm. Don’t think I don’t remember for a second how worked up you used to get after you had a class with him.”

“He was my competition.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. Who’s going to mediate when you two go head-to-head at your Monday meetings?”

“We’re adults. We don’t need to be mediated.” I’m not sure that’s entirely true, because I happen to enjoy those heated moments when I piss him off and he gets all up in my personal space without even realizing it. He has pretty eyes and a gorgeous mouth. And face. And body.

“I predict one of two things will happen.” She stuffs another fry in her mouth, chewing slowly to draw out the suspense. “You either murder each other or screw each other’s brains out.”

“Those are two very extreme options. Both of which will not happen.”

“You were in love with him for years.”

“Correction. I had a crush on the character he portrayed. A fictional character. That is not even remotely the same as being in love with someone.”