Hopelessly Perfect

by S. E. Rose

  I grin and nod as I hand her money for both coffees.

  “Oh, I can get it,” Lanie says.

  I shake my head. “I invited you; it’s my treat.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  Robin hands us our coffees, and we sit down in a cozy corner table with two oversized chairs.

  “So, you’ve seen Ashton’s medical file. I’m guessing Judge Maloney let you take a gander?”

  I nod. “There’s a trial that has been showing a good deal of promise. It seems to have fewer side effects than the standard treatment. I’d need to run a few tests this week, but if he’s a good candidate, I think we should enroll him immediately.”

  “Can you send me the information on it?”

  “Yep. We’ll need to move fast with treatment. The sooner we nip this in the bud, the better.”

  “I know,” Lanie says softly, glancing away from me. Shit. I should watch what I say around her. I wasn’t aware of her past. But now it all makes sense: why the Moores give so much money to the hospital, why Kent was an ambassador for the hospital at the gala where my sister took portraits for a charity auction.

  “You were seven?” I ask as I study her carefully.

  Lanie glances back at me. There’s a sadness in her eyes, and it pains me to see it. “Yes.”

  “That must have been scary.”

  She looks down at her coffee. “Obviously.”

  Damn it. I’m not handling this very well. “I’ll send you the information. Can you draw up papers for me to gain access to all of Ashton’s medical records, along with clear permissions for Mrs. Collier to make decisions as his legal guardian?”

  “Of course. I’ll get you everything tonight.”

  Lanie

  Well, Brix probably thinks I’m a total bitch. I’m so nervous around him. I keep giving him one-word answers, and, of course, the topic has to center around cancer, the one thing that I never like to talk about. Gah! I’m so hopeless when it comes to guys.

  I glance down at my phone. “I should probably go. I have an appointment soon, and I need to prep for it.” I nearly chug my coffee and set the cup down on the table as Robin walks by to clear it.

  “Thanks,” I mumble to her as I stand. “Thanks for the coffee, and I’ll get the required paperwork and motions drawn up tonight so we have them for the call tomorrow.”

  Brix stands. “Sure. Thanks. I . . . guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I nod and grab my bag before rushing to the door. I almost sigh with relief when I feel the cool air outside. Focus! I need to focus! I keep repeating my mantra as I head back to the court where I have a hearing for a divorce case. But every time I think ‘focus’, my mind displays a photo of Brix. “This is not good,” I think to myself as I head back inside the courthouse.

  My case is not in the least bit exciting. Mr. and Mrs. Haliburton are divorcing after twenty years of marriage. Their kids are not much older than my brother Clark, so I know them. I mean, in a small town, you sort of know everyone. I’m representing Mrs. Haliburton, Christine. She wants to keep their rowhouse off Main Street for when the kids come home from college. Mr. Haliburton wants to sell it. That’s the last contention in their divorce.

  I settle at the table next to Mrs. Haliburton after filling her in on my latest discussions with opposing counsel. Mr. Haliburton might be willing to cave but only if he gets to keep their Tesla. I want to roll my eyes.

  “All rise,” the bailiff says as Judge Leonard enters the courtroom.

  “Please be seated.” She motions for us to sit. There are only five other people in the courtroom for another divorce case after ours.

  The judge starts to discuss something with my opposing counsel, and my mind wanders to Brix. Why can’t I just woman up and ask him out? I’ve been ogling him for months from a distance every time we meet. I’m so deep in thought that it’s Christine elbowing me that has me coming out of my daydream fog. I blink and look up to find the judge staring down at me; she glares at me with her glasses lowered on her nose. I feel like the kid who just got caught writing love notes in class.

  “Ms. Moore, can you please approach the bench?” she asks. I have a distinct feeling that this isn’t her first request.

  FML. “Sure thing, your honor.”

  I reach the bench and look up at her.

  “Are you alright?” she asks me as her hand covers the microphone.

  I nod and bite my lip.

  “Very good. Then, can you please bring your mind back into my courtroom because I think we can get the parties to agree to something here.” She glances over at Jay Lewis, who is representing Mr. Haliburton.

  Jay nods.

  “Tesla,” he says.

  I have to close my eyes for a brief second to prevent myself from rolling them. I open them and look into his dark eyes. Jay is a bit of an ass, but he is good at getting his way. Figures that’s who Mr. Haliburton would pick. I try not to take sides, but everyone in town knows he was sleeping with an assistant.

  “Your Honor, may I ask for a brief recess so that I can speak with my client?”

  “Five-minute recess,” Judge Leonard says.

  I turn to Mrs. Haliburton, who is glaring at me, and rightfully so. I straighten my shirt and walk over to her to explain the deal she’s going to have to take. This is not my day.

  Chapter Three

  “Lane, I, uh . . . we think you should take a week off. You’ve been working non-stop for five years. You don’t take anything more than a long weekend. You work for sixty-plus hours every week. You are one of our best attorneys, but you need a break. And I heard about your hearing this week,” Larry Olson says.

  I sigh. Larry’s a partner at my firm. He’s been my mentor since I graduated from law school. He’s like a second dad. And now, I’m embarrassed—very, very embarrassed.

  “Larry, I’m fine. Really, I am.”

  “Lane, I’m not asking. I’m telling you. You need a break. I’ve seen this with too many other attorneys. You need a break. Go . . . I don’t know. Go to your family’s beach house. Go see your grandparents. Do whatever you like, but don’t come to this office next week.”

  I sigh because I know there is no point arguing with Larry. “Fine,” I mumble.

  “Good. I’ll see you the following week. I’ll have Keith cover your two hearings next week, and Erin can push your meetings for the week.”

  I nod and leave his office. I feel like I just got suspended from school. What the hell am I going to do for a week? Seriously, a whole week? I can’t remember the last time I was off for a week. I rack my brain. Maybe in middle school? I had a part-time job at the library all through high school. And I volunteered at the local court all through college and law school. Gah!

  I walk over to my paralegal, Erin. Erin has been my right-hand woman since I started with the firm. She’s ten years older than me and amazing. She keeps my files sorted, my motions filed, and my clients in check.

  “So, we have a vacation, do we?” she asks with a raised eyebrow as I approach my office. I slump into the chair in front of her desk and plant my face in my hands, nodding.

  “Oh, honey. You need this. Larry’s been trying to get me to get you a vacation for three years. You can’t work all the time.” She gets up and rounds her desk, patting me on the shoulder.

  I look up at her. “What am I going to do? It’s only Wednesday afternoon.”

  She laughs. “Go out. Go on a date. Hell, go drink at the pub. Happy hour starts in thirty minutes.”

  I snort. “Right.” I’m not a huge drinker and she knows it.

  “Go, shoo, get out of here.” She motions at me with her hands, and I shake my head.

  “Fine. But you better call me if anything happens with any of my clients or cases.”

  “Fair enough. If I can’t handle it, I’ll call you.”

  I roll my eyes because Erin can handle everything.

  I walk into my office and shut down my laptop, placing it in my bag. I look around at
the place where I spend too many of my waking hours. It’s more of a home than my house. I have plants, photos of my family, hell, I even have a television and speakers for my iPhone. I pack up my stuff and leave, cursing myself for letting Brixton Crane get to me.

  Once I’m in the car, I call my sister.

  “What’s up?” Di answers on the first ring, which is unusual, but seeing as how it’s now after three in the afternoon and her students just left for the day, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

  “My life’s a mess. I need twin assistance ASAP.”

  “What’s wrong? You stumped on paint colors for the dining room?”

  I groan. I’ve been working on fixing up my house since I bought it three years ago. Let’s just say I should have hired an interior decorator, but I find painting and doing things around my house to be therapeutic.

  “I’m being forced to take a vacation.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I have to take a vacation.”

  “Why? Are you sick?”

  I groan again. “Noooo. I . . . Larry thinks I’m working too much.”

  “Well, Larry has a point.”

  “Seriously, Di? Who’s side are you on?”

  “What? He does have a point. You work, like, a ridiculous amount of hours a week.”

  “Di, that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  I can practically hear her eyes rolling over the phone line. I also bet she just muted herself because she wants to mumble under her breath about how annoying I am and how I should listen to others. There is a long moment of silence. I wait for her to unmute herself.

  “Hey, I date. I go out with my work friends. And I take vacations,” she finally responds.

  “Fine. So, what should I do?”

  “About what?”

  “Di!”

  “What? Go to the beach. Go out with friends. Find a guy for fuck’s sake.”

  “I gotta go, Di.”

  “Oh, don’t be so bitter. Go have fun.”

  “I’ll consider it.” I hang up as I pull into my driveway.

  My phone pings with a text. I look down and see the family chat.

  Di: Lanie has the week off

  Mom: What’s wrong?

  Di: Larry says she works too much

  C-Dog: She does work too much

  Dad: That’s great. Lanie, you want the beach house?

  KJ: You want to do dinner with Tabby and me?

  I stop reading the texts and drop my head against my steering wheel. I love my family, I do, but for fuck's sake, they can be so much at times.

  It takes me a few minutes to compose myself. I carry my bag inside and drop it on my kitchen island.

  “Meow!”

  I look down to see my giant orange tabby, Sandy.

  “Hey, Sandy.”

  She jumps up on the island and rubs against me. I scratch her soft fur.

  “What are we going to do? Huh?”

  “Meow!”

  “Movie night it is, then,” I say as I pull up the number for the little Italian place on Main Street and order a pizza. I pour myself an iced tea and change into my comfy clothes before settling in for the night.

  My phone keeps buzzing. I look down. Di has called at least three times. I groan.

  Three. Two. One.

  There’s a knock at my door. They say twins can sense each other. Yep.

  I unlock the door and open it to find Di holding my pizza. “Miss Martha said this was your pizza, so I just brought it on over for you.”

  I roll my eyes and motion for her to enter.

  “Pizza and movie night?”

  “Yep.”

  “What movie? Something good, OK?”

  “Don’t you have, like, papers to grade or something?”

  “Nope. Pop quiz for my minions tomorrow.”

  “A pop quiz for second graders?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “OK. I figured you needed sisterly love and all, so I finished grading those fuckers’ multiplication assignments in record time and got my ass over here via the pizza place.”

  I shake my head and plop down on the sofa. “Iced tea is in the fridge.”

  “Uh, we need something stronger than iced tea.”

  “Fine, open some wine.”

  “Red or white?”

  “It’s a red type of day, don’t you think?” I reply as I scan through movie options, choosing to watch French Kiss for the millionth time because it’s one of my favorite movies. Di comes in with two wine glasses containing overly generous amounts of wine and then returns with two plates loaded with pizza.

  “Three pieces?” I ask her.

  She shrugs. “It’s a three-piece type of day, don’t you think?”

  I giggle, and she hands me a glass.

  “To my smartest sibling, who needs a vacation. Enjoy your time off.” I nod as we clink glasses and settle in to watch the movie.

  Chapter Four

  Brixton

  I stare at the painting on my office wall. I bought it in a small village in Kenya. That was at the end of a particularly long six months in the Congo. I lost too many patients and needed some ‘me time,’ so I spent three weeks on safari. It was the rejuvenation I needed to get back to work.

  A knock at my door draws my attention. I look over to find Lanie.

  We lock eyes for a moment. Neither of us says a word. The electrical currents flowing between our bodies are palpable. She’s the first to look away. She looks down and studies her shoes like they are the most fascinating things in the world.

  “Lanie?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  She looks up at me, biting her luscious red bottom lip. She has no idea how beautiful she is, how much I’ve wanted her since the very first time I laid eyes on her at the airport. It’s only been a few months since that day, but I can still envision her as she was that first moment that we locked eyes. Tussled hair, pulled up on her head, an oversized sweater, and leggings. I’ve only seen her in two clothing modes: super casual or business attire. I wonder what she’d look like in a sexy dress.

  I’ve tried flirting with her. I’ve tried coming up with excuses to see her. But she remains elusive. I wonder if it’s me. Maybe she doesn’t feel the same way, but then why do I feel this connection with her?

  “I—I . . . Ashton. Have you gotten everything you need?” she asks me. Her fingers tighten around the strap of the bag she has on her shoulder.

  “Please, come in.” I motion to the chairs in front of my desk.

  She doesn’t say a word but takes a seat.

  “I’ve reviewed his files. I have your paperwork. Thank you for handling that so quickly. I’ve spoken with Doctors Smith and Evans. They are heading up the trial.”

  Lanie clears her throat. “Can you explain the trial to me?”

  I lean forward and steeple my fingers. “How much do you remember about your treatments?”

  She looks down. “Everything.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and her skin grows pale. I want to sweep her into my arms, to take away the memories of pain she must have. She looks up at me, and her eyes are slightly glazed. Even though I’ve seen hundreds of cancer patients, my heart breaks for her.

  “The trial can lessen the number of treatments after the initial six weeks. Ashton could be free of treatments within six months instead of a year.”

  “Really?” Her face shows such hope that I have to swallow to keep myself composed.

  “Yes, really.”

  “That . . . that would be wonderful. I mean, for him to not have to go through everything for so long.”

  I nod. “I know. And that’s why I want him in the trial. They’ve had a lot of success in the first round of the trial. This is round two, and I think Ashton is a great candidate.”

  “When would we know?”

  “I’ve submitted all the test results to my colleagues. We should know by the end of the week. Either way, I’d like his treatments to start tomorrow. There’s no point in waiting. I’ve a
lready arranged everything.”

  “I’ll let Mrs. Collier know.” She looks down at her phone that she’s pulled out from her purse.

  “Very good.”

  “I . . . I can be here if you need me.”

  “It’s not necessary. But you are free to visit him whenever you’d like. You just need to follow protocol, which I assume you are quite familiar with.”

  She nods, understanding that patients are very vulnerable to infections and viruses during their initial course of treatment.

  “OK. Is there anything else?” I ask her. I hope I don’t sound too hopeful. She’s going to think I’m some sort of desperate schmuck. It’s been a long time since I’ve even considered a relationship beyond being someone’s fuck buddy.

  She shakes her head. “No. I . . . No.”

  I stand and walk around my desk, leaning against it. She looks up at me.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  She takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m fine. It’s . . . this is a tough one for me. That’s all.”

  “OK. Well, I’m here if you need to talk.”

  She steps forward, and we are mere inches apart. I can smell her perfume. She’s so perfect, and she doesn’t even know it.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow. See you then,” she says as she scurries out of my office without meeting my gaze. I watch as she leaves, wishing I could see inside that brilliant mind of hers.

  Lanie

  I fall against the elevator wall as I head back to the parking garage. Why did I come here? I hate coming here. Just the mere smell of the hospital makes my heart rate go up, and I hate the worried looks of the parents in the children’s wing. It brings back too many memories that I’d rather forget.

  And then there’s Brixton. I can’t believe that’s who I’m working with on this . . . what do I even call it? A ‘pro bono’ case doesn’t seem quite right. A favor case? Anyhow, there are about a dozen pediatric oncologists that would have served the purpose just fine. Hell, that’s not even Brix’s specialty.

  Of course, the second I got out of that meeting I upped my stalker status by diving into everything I could about him on a professional level. Yeah, so I’ve stalked his social media accounts since we met at the airport. The guy is hot, and he’s so interesting. The stories he tells are . . . well, he’s like a Dr. Indiana Jones meets Patch Adams dressed like a sexy Captain America.