CHAPTER 1
Tessa
Spoiler alert:I live in a bit of a fantasy world.
“Ms. Demille, are you happy with the verdict?”
“Ms. Demille, quick comment!”
“Ms. Demille, were you surprised he got two life sentences?”
The reporters jockey for position outside the courthouse as I navigate the front steps in elegant nude pumps and a navy pantsuit. My hair, highlighted with blond streaks and twisted into a chignon, telegraphs the same flawless style as the designer bag anchored in the crook of my arm. Most trials don’t warrant this kind of buzz, but when a granny-bilking corporate fraudster earns two life sentences, people pay attention.
I’m all smiles, knowing the sleazeball got what he deserved.
I skirt between the reporters, stopping to provide the one perfect soundbite they need to satisfy their editors and news producers. “I’m pleased with the verdict, and I think the sentence was just. This is our legal system working the way it should, and as district attorney, I’m proud to see it.”
“Tessa…? Hell-ooo, Tessa?”
Oops. My assistant, Blaire, stands in the doorway of my office, tapping the toe of her midnight-blue loafer and looking annoyed that she had to leave her desk to get my attention.
I’m swept from the fictitious courthouse steps and back to my beige law office, sitting behind my chipped brown desk and squinting under fluorescent lights. A container of cottage cheese and an open bag of pretzels fester next to my computer. Unfinished coffee sits next to that. My brown hair, which I have no hope of taming into a chignon, hangs in a slapdash ponytail.
“Oh. Yes?”
“Wow, you are seriously in la-la land.”
“Right. I was?—”
Her expression turns to a wicked smile. “Oh yeah, I know that look. Who’s the guy, how big is he, and how many shapes did he bend you into last night?” She snaps her nicotine gum and ogles me like I have a steamy, secret life.
“Inappropriate, Blaire.” But only because I don’t have a quippy retort and a wink hinting at a gorgeous guy with girth. I haven’t been on a date in over a year, let alone had a steamy hookup. My life is all about making partner here at the law firm. All about billable hours. My fantasies aren’t about men; they’re about winning court cases.
Or at least helping the senior partners wintheircourt cases by conducting case research and writing thorough briefs.
My law career isn’t like the ones on TV. I’m not putting bad people behind bars and basking in victory when justice is served. I’m not ridding the world of inveterate scumbags who victimize women or children. I’m just…working a steady, respectable job with a steady, respectable paycheck. Acting like “the adult in the room,” as my four sisters frequently tease.
But I dream about something bigger, a version of myself who isn’t afraid to aim for landmark legal cases with personalmeaning. The idealist who chose this career to make a difference. I still think I could be that person.
Someday.
Meanwhile, my assistant now has a faraway look and a sex smile I’m almost sad to wipe from her Sephora-perfect face.
“Um, Blaire?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you need me for?”
“Oh. You have a visitor.”
My fantasy world ignites all over again. I picture a new client, a serious, Clark Kent type, with a big heart, broad shoulders, and a chiseled jaw. He needs a lawyer to help him shut down a puppy mill and I wow him with my legal chops. He eventually fires me, but that’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with me, and he knows my ethics prevent me from dating a client.
The record scratch to that daydream is the woman peering at me from behind Blaire—my eighty-five-year-old Grandma Ann in orange slacks and a flowered blouse with a bow at the collar.
I feel a nervous pang of dread. Grandma Ann has never come to my office. She rarely even leaves her seaside retirement village to come to Los Angeles.
I prepare for awful news, but her easy smile is so inviting that I drift into childhood memories of banana bread and needlepoint pillows. I forget that I haven’t eaten lunch. I forget that I’ve been working too hard lately and neglecting workouts, sensible meal plans, Pilates…I forget that my work-life balance went out the window when I took the job at this firm ten years ago.
