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He’s obviously preoccupied, not paying attention to me at all, so I take advantage and pay attention to him.
I’ve only ever seen him looking down at me, but seeing him like this, relaxed and a little informal, is entirely different. I can see just how trim his torso is, how long and well shaped his fingers are.
The hollows of his cheeks are delicious, as is the tiny cleft in his chin.
“If you had a beard, it’d be ginger,” I blurt out.
He looks over. “What?”
I gesture over my lower face. “Your bristles. They’re sort of orange-ish in this light.”
He runs a hand over his cheek, and I swallow. “Five o’clock shadow,” he mutters. “Or ten o’clock shadow, depending what time it is.” He lifts his wrist to check his watch.
I don’t ask for the time. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to do anything that will remind him that he’s being ridiculous spending time with me.
“So why the long day?” I ask.
He heaves out a sigh and sits up, leaning forward and clasping his wineglass between his hands, watching as he gently rocks the red liquid from side to side. “Just a particularly acrimonious divorce.”
“Are there any non-bitter divorces?” I ask.
“Not many,” he admits. “At least not ones that come across my desk. All of the mutually-irreconcilable-differences ones don’t need to bring in the big guns.”
“Google says you’re the biggest divorce lawyer in the city. So does Marley.”
He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t stop watching his wine. “Not sure that’s a compliment.”
“Yes it is,” I insist. “It means you’re good at your job.”
He looks up at that. “I would have thought a girl like you would hate my job.”
“A girl like me?”
“Optimistic. Bubbly. Enthusiastic about glitter, and—”
“And…?” I prompt. “Say it. You know you want to.”
He takes a sip of wine and glances out at the city before relenting. “And ridiculous.”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he says it, a whisper of a smile playing on his mouth that makes me go all warm inside.
I lift a glass. “If ridiculous means I don’t believe in divorce, then I’m proud of it.”
“You can’t not believe in divorce. It’s a reality.”
“I know,” I say sadly, taking a sip of my wine. “I guess I mean I don’t believe in it for me.”
“Well, the good news is, you’ve got some time. First comes marriage and all that. Unless you’re close to that.”
“Um, no.”
He’s watching me. “Brody?”
“Not a thing.”
“He’s interested.”
I shrug. “Yep.”
