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“What is it that you do?” His question reached out like a desperate hand trying to hold me there. He rolled his eyes at my hitched brow. “I want to hear it from you, not read it from the printout my assistant slipped on my desk.”
I sighed, relenting, but only because I didn’t get to talk about my day with anyone. I didn’t get to share details on the one area of my life providing me with purpose. With Daniel, the conversation would lead to his attempt at poaching me for Parker & Mitchell, or another firm equally as “respectable.” And there was my best friend, Sofia, but she was in the thick of the fight right alongside me, pounding the pavement. Discussions with her were usually around strategies to implement change, proposals for new legislation, and how we could make more of an impact.
Sharing with Cole would feel like unwinding from a long day, like having a cheerleader in my corner. Like old times. “What I do depends on the day. My friend Sofia runs a non-profit organization that provides legal services to underprivileged communities. I take on cases when needed—which is almost always. And I help where I can with the many foundations she supports, which I in turn support. They’re all geared around being of service to others in some way. And twice a week I teach a first-year criminal justice course at Columbia Law.”
“Wow,” he said, impressed, eyes bursting with his eagerness to hear more.
“Did your printout not mention all that?” I shoved my hands into my front pockets for something to do other than strangle the strap of my bag or hang stupidly at my sides.
“Yeah, but it lacked emotion. Passion. I’m proud of you,” he whispered. My chest clenched, holding tight to his validation. “And which are you going to be late for today?”
“Class starts in fifteen minutes, and the train ride is twenty from here. So…” I hiked a thumb over my shoulder.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve held you up long enough. Hang on.” His long strides ate up the distance to his cell phone perched on the end table near the sofa. “I’ll have my driver rush you over.”
“Unless he has a siren attached to the roof of his car, I’m better off on public transportation. Thanks for the offer, though,” I said, showing myself to the elevator.
“You forgive too easily,” Cole said at my back. “Always have. Selene used to call you her big, bleeding heart.”
“What’s your point?” I asked, not unkindly, just short on time.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just, thank you. That’s all.”
It didn’t feel like nothing, but with no time to spare on dwelling, I let it be. “I’ll be in touch.” I sagged against the cabin wall once the doors sealed me inside, pretending I hadn’t heard his last whispered question, pretending it hadn’t taken my breath away.
“Are you still in love with me, Jasper?”
“You’re late, Mr. D,” Lorenzo, one of my younger students, said from the back row of the lecture hall. A few chuckles could be heard from all sides. Des Moines was a mouthful, so my students referred to me as Mr. D.
“Are you sure you all aren’t just early?” I asked, hanging my jacket on the coat rack by the door before stepping up to the lectern and sliding my notes from my bag.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Sonia chimed in, wagging a finger at me. “You owe us one push-up for every minute you were late.” She even mimicked my I-mean-business tone, earning a high five from her neighbor.
“How old are you guys again?” I asked.
“That won’t work on us. If you’re going to make the rules, you gotta live by them,” Lorenzo said with an apologetic shrug as if he’d let me off the hook if he could. “I counted ten.” He held both palms out, wiggling each finger.
“Everyone better have their textbooks out and open to chapter twenty by the time I’m done, or I’m pulling you all down here with me,” I said, letting my own finger in on the action, waving it threateningly into the crowd. Books thumped onto desks, and pages rustled with urgency. I loved my job, and I loved these adult-children. I descended into the pit and paid my penalty, my smile firmly in place as I thought,Cole would get a kick out of this.
The smell of roasted tomatoes and fresh garlic bread assaulted me when I returned home later that evening to Daniel’s favorite apology-meal, from my favorite Italian restaurant. We hadn’t spoken since our argument the night before, and he was already gone by the time I’d dragged my booze-addled brain from the guest bedroom that morning. The fight had already slipped my mind, but his attempt at making things right tugged at my heartstrings all the same. This was good.Wewere good.
You forgive too easily.Cole’s words from earlier came back to taunt me.
I closed the apartment door heavy-handedly, making my arrival known, because Daniel would want to greet me as soon as I walked in.
“You’re home,” he said brightly, appearing from the kitchen, a nervous curve to his lips. “And you’re all wet.” His forehead creased with displeasure.
“Yeah, it started coming down out of nowhere.”
“Here, let me take that before you leave a trail.” He shook the rain droplets from my coat over the doormat before isolating it to one side of the coat closet, and then scanned the hardwood floor with a sharp eye for signs of moisture. I left him to his fussing while I removed my shoes and the rubber band holding my damp hair together at my nape. The barely shoulder-length strands twisted, falling into loose waves instantly.
Daniel, now satisfied his Brazilian wood hadn’t been blemished, moved ahead of me, halting my advancement on the food.
“Did you get the risotto, too?” I sniffed the air with enthusiasm for his benefit, and his timid smile rounded into one of contentment.
“I’m insulted. Of course I did.” He leaned in for a kiss. Thunder rumbled, lightning lit up the darkening sky, and an obnoxious deluge of rain splattered the living room windows. “Remind me again why you wanted to live this high up?” He’d sold his apartment on a lower floor to purchase this one after I’d dragged him up for the open house out of curiosity, and then needed to be pried away from the windows.
“I can answer that,” Cole said, his voice appearing from thin air.
