Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(104)

Dad rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I could have gone another eighteen.” He winked at me. “All right, maybe only nine.”

I didn’t smile back but jogged back to him and threw my arms around his neck. “You take care of yourself, Daddy. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Ralph laughed, surprised. “Why, thank you, sweetheart. But don’t worry about me. I’m fit as a fiddle.”

“And you’d better stay that way.” I kissed his cheek and then embraced my mother. “You too. I love you both, so much.”

I turned away, not knowing what had come over me. I needed sleep. A full eight, solid hours without a nightmare. Maybe my old bed would give it to me…

“Don’t forget, we have the fitting at two o’clock!” Mother called up after me as I started back up to my room.

I sighed. “I know.”

#

At the Caroline Herrera boutique, I put on the stunning mermaid-style wedding dress I had chosen months ago: a simple, elegant silk gown made unique by sweeping ribbons of chiffon that draped elegantly around the bodice and waist, then billowed in soft layers below the knee. When we’d first chosen this dress, Mother had wanted something busier, with more lace, more beads, more train. But when I stepped out of the dressing room now, her eyes filled with tears she quickly blinked away.

“Yes, that will do. That is quite lovely, isn’t it?” She sniffed discreetly. “And of course, you’ll wear your hair up in an elegant twist…?”

“I’d rather wear it down.”

“Nonsense. With that red color, your hair will appear too wild for such a dress, isn’t that right, Annie?”

The consultant made a practiced, noncommittal reply that efficiently pleased Marilyn without insulting me.

“It’s my fault, my Irish blood,” Mother confided in Annie. “The red hair—oh, my dear!—you should have seen my mother. Lucky for me, the red skipped a generation.”

“You’ve gained a little bit of weight since last fitting,” Annie said, tugging at the back.

“Alexandra…” my mother warned.

“No, you look radiant,” Annie said. “Slender but with a little more curve to you. This sort of dress is made to enhance a figure like yours.”

I studied myself in the mirror while our consultant and my mother talked adjustments and then cooed over the dress—a stunning dress created by a legendary designer. Any bride would be over the moon to wear such a gorgeous gown.

And I felt nothing. Nothing at all.

#

While I changed back into my clothes, my cell rang. “Abed. What’s up?”

“You gotta get over here, quick,” my paralegal said, his voice low but full of breathy excitement. “Munro is here, pitching a fit, and the partners are in a panic. Lawson wanted me to call you, and while he didn’t use the word ‘beg’, I can read between the lines.”

“They want me over there now?”

“They want you over here yesterday. Lawson, Dooney & Gardener. Guaranteed.”

I bit my lip. This might be good. Another step toward the future I could predict. “I’m on my way.”

I hung up and told my mother they needed me at work.

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Marilyn said. “I never liked all this ‘leave of absence’ business. Made it seem as if you were expendable.”

I nearly informed her I was in a position to make partner, but for some reason I kept silent and drove my mother back home.

#

At Lawson & Dooney, I walked in with a peculiar mix of excitement and dread roiling in my gut. I wasn’t dressed particularly business-like: in dark blue jeans, emerald green sleeveless blouse, and flats. I’d left my hair down—I’d been leaving it down a lot lately—and had to admit my mother was right. It was a little bit wild, fiery red and thick and flowing to the middle of my back. It had gotten long while I wasn’t paying attention, as busy with work as I had been. I could have changed into a suit and tied my hair up in my usual twist, but they had kicked me out of my job for going on three weeks. I figured it couldn’t hurt to remind them—in front of Munro—of that fact.

Abed and Caitlin greeted me at the front entry in a rush, like groupies seeking autographs, talking in tandem as they walked and shoving papers into my hands.

“They’re in the main conference room,” Abed began. “I told them you were coming and they’ve stalled Munro with some expensive booze and beluga, but it’s tense. Really tense.”

Caitlin, my secretary, handed me a stack of papers. “Here’s what Christopher’s been doing on the case since you left. It’s not much—Mr. Munro’s been pretty uncooperative.”

Abed handed me another folder. “I’ve gathered status updates from the other attorneys who’ve been handling your other cases while you’ve been out and it’s not a pretty picture. None of your clients are happy the bosses gave you the leave. None.”

“Thanks, guys.” I said. We had arrived at the main conference room. “I’ll take it from here.”

Michael Dooney’s secretary looked ready to weep when she saw me approach. “Oh, thank God. They’re waiting for you.”

Armed with the paperwork from Abed and Caitlin, I inhaled deeply and stepped into the conference room.