“That’s not for Ian to decide, now, is it?”Captain Green’s rep hopefully saw sense where Ian saw an opportunity to be a dick.And if Captain Green wondered why-oh-why the amount has quadrupled since the last offer, they could take it up with their counsel.They got new representation before; they could do it again.Ian getting fired would be the cherry on top of the sundae that was justice.
Sighing, Aya dropped the papers onto the desk.“Is there anything you need to get off your chest, Baz?”
“No,” Baz scoffed.What was his chest to her, anyway?
“All right.”She collected her coffee and stood.“If I cared to put up with a man in a bad mood, I would have stayed married to one.”
Herdone-with-thistone hit him like the sobering blast of a fire extinguisher.
“Aya—”
“Whatever it is, fix it.”
“It’s not that simple!”
“What isn’t?”
“Eevee is back in touch with our dad, okay?”Baz bit his lip.
Aya didn’t know all that happened back then—only he, Eevee, and Joel did—but she knew enough that her expression softened.
“She’s an adult.She’s allowed to make that choice, even if you don’t agree.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Are you really gonna let him come between you now?That’s not the Baz I know.”
That… Baz’s mouth fell open.He couldn’t remember how to close it again.
“Just talk to her.You’ll sort it out.Come find me when you’re in a better mood.”Her heels clacked on the floor as she strutted out.
Baz slumped into his chair and ran a hand over his face.Just talk to her.Easy for Aya to say.He wished he couldjustdo anything, but that wasn’t how his brain worked.Never had.It took days, sometimes weeks, for the right words to come to his mind, for him to feel ready to have the difficult conversation.
The irony of being a trial lawyer that sucked at confrontations wasn’t lost on him.People had pointed it out all his life.Teachers, guidance counselors, they had all met his law school aspirations with a heartfelt‘…really?’
What they failed to understand was how fundamentally different being at trial was.With lines of questioning thought out and evidence in front of him, Baz was prepared for anything.Trials were predictable, controllable.But there was no rulebook for fights, no thorough documentation on all of Eevee’s thoughts and feelings that could help him prep an argument or assess in what direction that conversation would go.No, Baz had no choice but to wait until his brain deemed him ready, however long that might take.
Coffee would help.Caffeine never failed to focus his racing mind—except that Collin was currently occupying the subpar coffee machine in the kitchenette, roaring and fighting for its life to grind the beans.Such joy.
Baz suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and pretended to check a text on his phone.
“Hey, dude!I was worried you’d merged into one with your seat.”Collin snickered.He could save his smile for someone who gave a damn.
“It’s called working.You should try it.”
“You’re funny, man.Hey, how’d it go with Mrs.Tuffin?”
Mrs.Who-Now?That name sounded vaguely familiar, but Baz couldn’t identify which bell it rang.“Hm?”
“You know.The old lady who doesn’t stop talking, the one Sullivan pawned off on me, and I pawned off on you.That was today, no?I swear she just sues people because she’s lonely and wants to talk.I mean, nobody cares that her granddaughter got into Yale and never calls anymore…”
Fuck.The Small Claims Court appearance!
Whatever Collin was saying, Baz couldn’t hear over his heart drumming in his ears.He checked his calendar—forty minutes until his appointment.If he ran, he could make it in time to familiarize himself with the claim before their time slot.
He sprinted out of the kitchenette, barely managing to dodge a paralegal on his race to his office.He threw his jacket on, grabbed his briefcase, and beelined for the elevator.His legs tingled in protest.Leg day had been a terrible idea.
Baz assaulted theclose doorsbutton, hitting it over and over and over until the salvific ding came.
