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“Some love stories are real,” Kat said, glancing at her ring finger.
I bit my lip. Kat’s husband didn’t cheat. He wasn’t cruel, but he made her so unhappy. He never seemed to actually see her. I skirted it, though, not wanting to upset her. “I’m sure your love stories are real. Everyone else’s...” I tipped my hand back and forth. “Doubtable.”
“You’re going to fall in love one day and have to eat those words,” Britta said.
“I will never be hungry enough to make that meal worth it.” I zipped the last dress up the side. It was lime green with little pink flowers, and I glowered at the camera. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It’s... kind of cute,” Kat said, a hitch in her voice.
“The flowers make a heart on the bodice, Britt.” I was already unzipping it. “There is a limit to what I will do for you.”
She laughed. I loved my friend’s laugh, even through the phone, and my heart hurt at missing them both.
“As for falling in love, even if I wanted to, I don’t have time to meet anyone. Work is my number one priority and I’m busy with the wedding stuff until the end of the summer. It’s not like I’m going to meet anyone doing that.”
•••
THE RECEPTIONIST FLAGGEDme as I walked into our offices. “RJ. You have a delivery.”
I smiled at her, glancing between the woman and the responseI’d been crafting to an email on my phone. “Oh, those documents from Schuyler Williams?”
Patty beamed, glee on her face despite her hushed tone. “You got flowers!”
I abandoned the email. “From who?”
Patty shrugged, looking left and then right, lowering her voice further. “Not sure. I was on my break when they came, but they’re in your office. Are you seeing someone? Jane said the man who brought them by was incredibly good looking, and he brought them himself. Very nice touch.”
I racked my brain. “Maybe it was a client.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Patty raised her eyebrows suggestively. “He left a card, but good on you, girl.” She winked and smiled widely before returning to her regular staid expression and straight posture. “So many of you lawyers don’t make time for dating.”
I was thinking Jane must have made a mistake and that it was a shame I’d missed the good-looking delivery man, and was also debating if I wanted to give Tinder another try. I could manage things myself, but sometimes it was nice to have a second pair of hands. Something about putting Lear Campbell in his place the week before left a little pep in my step, and I felt an urge to pounce on something, more specifically someone. I’d even fantasized once about pouncing on him, provided he didn’t talk. During the wedding, he’d looked good in a dark blue suit. My cheeks flushed as I passed the conference room.You’re a skilled attorney. Stop daydreaming about hate sex with a wedding planner.
My assistant, Todd, approached before I got to my door. “Glad I caught you. Gretchen wants you in the conference room ASAP.” Todd didn’t exactly cower when Gretchen spoke, but I think he would have if his suit allowed more flexibility for him to curl into aball. I handed him the things I’d been holding, asking him to put them in my office, and walked toward the meeting, a notepad in hand.
When I walked in, Gretchen nodded to me and motioned to an open seat across from her. “This one is big. Have a seat.”
•••
IT WAS AFTERdark when I finally got back to my desk after hours spent strategizing with Gretchen and the rest of the team. One of the wealthiest and most influential couples in the southeast was splitting, and tech billionaire Dina Mayfield had hired us. Gretchen had said this was big, but it wasn’t big, it was career-making. The kind of complicated, high-stakes case I’d always wanted to work. Besides the couple’s assets, which were many, their stockholders around the world would be nervous if word of their split got out, and their charitable foundation could suffer.
I fell into my desk chair and kicked off my heels under my desk, eyeing the bouquet. Sitting on the cluttered space was a vase filled with white and yellow flowers—daisies, lilies, and carnations. Despite the late hour and my utter exhaustion, they brightened the room. I traced a finger along the delicate petal of a carnation. They’d always been my favorites. When I was a kid, my dad would send Mom roses to apologize for some careless thing or another he’d done. They’d always be fresh and pretty and then wilt within days, much like his resolve to not disappoint her again. Carnations, though... they lasted a long time. After he left and Mom got on her feet, she opened her own flower shop, and I’d spent all my free time surrounded by every combination of flower. I stroked a petal of a lily. I liked this combination.
There was a card in one of those plastic holders, but I tried one last time to guess who might have sent them before I plucked it from the bouquet.
Ms. Brooks,
I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. It was my fault and I apologize for my rude behavior. I will do better in the future to show you the respect you deserve.
Can we start over?
Sincerely,
Lear Campbell
I slid my finger over the card and appreciated how the loopy handwriting was almost comically fanciful. I smiled despite myself, reconciling the loops over thei’s with the man’s tough-guy schtick, with his kind of perfectly trimmed scruff and sleeves rolled up on those impressive forearms. I sat back in my chair and sighed. It was after nine and I still had work to do. I didn’t need to be sitting here mooning over a dude-bro wedding planner’s forearms, a dude-bro wedding planner I didn’t even like.
I rested the card against the vase and opened my email, clicking through the most pressing messages. My eyes drifted to the loopy handwriting and my mind to the forearms and the stretch of Lear’s large hands.
