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“I think she’s going to fabricate an accusation,” I tell Ben when he calls that evening. “She said, ‘give me a week’. There was no mention of abuse at all when she first saw me, and I asked. I’m just not sure I want to be a part of this anymore.”
I half expect him to encourage me to fire her. He’s given me the sense on more than one occasion that he thinks family law won’t make me happy.
“It’s not the time to be jettisoning clients,” he warns instead, after a moment’s hesitation. “You need all the hours you can get until Fields has made you partner. Especially when he’s still mad at you for threatening Webber.”
It’s the first time he’s admitted that I’ll be the one to make partner rather than Craig. I wish I had time to gloat but the topic at hand matters more.
“I can’t just keep charging her money if I’m not going to continue with her case.”
“I know. But she hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Just leave it for now. We’ll figure it out when I’m home.”
I smile, even though he can’t see it. I love not being alone in everything anymore. But I especially love that he’s the one in my court. There’s no one I’d rather have here.
“You’re still coming back Friday, right?” I ask, a little embarrassed by how needy the question is. He’s only been gone for a day and it’s already too long.
“Why?” he asks. “Do you miss me?”
“I’m very hungry. There’s been no one here to make sure I eat.”
After we hang up, I go to my room and clear out two drawers for him. I guess I sort of want him to feel like he belongs here.
On Tuesday, I place an order for a bigger television since Ben hates mine. On Wednesday, I go to my favorite home store and buy décor: throw pillows, a new duvet cover, matching lamps for my nightstand and Ben’s. I replace the plant I killed off months ago—Ben will water it, even if I forget.
On Thursday, the defendant in Ben’s case decides to settle. In theory, this means he can be done with the whole thing on Friday, but there’s snow in the forecast. The mere idea of his flight getting canceled steals my breath. I hadn’t realized, until this moment, just how much I was counting on seeing him.
“Try to get back,” I tell him. “I don’t want to prepare for the depositions all on my own.”
He laughs. “And you’re hungry,” he reminds me.
“I am. I’m extremely hungry.”
I leave work early and drive to Santa Monica because seeing his house makes me feel closer to him, even if he won’t let me inside it. The work trucks are gone. So is the construction permit. I wonder if he’ll finally invite me over. On the way home I buy groceries. He mentioned once that his favorite food is homemade chicken pot pie. I suppose it won’t kill me to try to make him one.
When I wake on Friday, the first thing I do is check the weather in DC. They got three inches of snow, but so far, Ben’s flight is still leaving on time.
I call my mom as soon as I arrive in the office. “I heard about the snow. Are they shoveling?”
“Honey, you worry too much,” she replies, sounding oddly…happy.
“I don’t worry too much, Mom.” I begin to pace the floors of my office. “For God’s sake…how will you even work at the bar if you sprain your wrist again? Or what if it’s something worse?”
“It’s all been taken care of,” she says. “Look.”
She texts me a photo of her parking lot, where not a single thing is shoveled, aside from the path to her car, which has also been cleared of snow.
“They only did yours?” I ask.
“You can’t ask questions about it,” she replies primly, which immediately floods my brain with worst-case scenarios: a creepy apartment manager offering her special favors, an obsessed customer, following her home at night.
“Mom, this is fucked up. Of course, I’m going to ask. Who did this? Is it someone you even know?”
“I know him now,” she says with a quiet laugh. “Your friend Ben did it. You never mentioned how handsome he was.”
“Ben?” I repeat incredulously. “Ben from work?”
“I can’t believe you said he was ‘really old’. I’ve been picturing a middle-aged man for the past two years.”
I exhale, exasperated. “Mom, how the hell did you meet Ben?”
