(Almost) Happily Ever After

by Annabelle Costa

  “Hey, Mia,” Will says to my best friend.

  So here’s the weird part. Mia usually loves Will (even though he’s never even given her legal advice before). But today she just gives him this really cold look, and says, “Hello.”

  Mia can be the ice queen when she wants to be.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Will says to her with a broad grin. Whatever is pissing her off, he seems oblivious to it.

  “Oh,” Mia snips. “Yes. Thank you. And congratulations to you as well on your big case.”

  Their eyes meet for a minute, and I see something pass between them. I have no idea what it is, except Will drops his eyes and looks really uncomfortable all of a sudden. He rakes a hand through his hair and turns to me. “So, um, ready to head out, Libby?”

  Mia leaps to her feet. “Don’t rush on my account. I’m leaving.”

  With those words, she yanks her purse off her seat and strides out of the restaurant. It’s the most bizarre thing—really unlike Mia. My stomach churns slightly.

  “What was that all about?” I murmur to Will.

  He shrugs. “Beats me. Pregnancy hormones?”

  Except I think he actually knows. And the fact that he isn’t telling me is very unsettling. After all, I’ve never known Will to keep secrets from me.

  “So,” he says, “are you ready to go?”

  “Not yet,” I tell him. “I have to finish my baguette.”

  “Baguette,” he snorts. “Is that what they call a side of bread in Panera Bread?”

  “Um, that’s what it is,” I argue. “A baguette is by definition a long, thin French bread, which is what this thing is.”

  “No. It’s stale bread.”

  “No, it’s not.” I take a bite of the baguette. “Okay, it’s a little bit stale.”

  Will laughs. “Well, I’m just glad you stopped saying ‘Tar-jay’ instead of ‘Target.’”

  “I was being ironic.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Whatever. I think anyone who says “Tar-jay” is clearly being ironic. I stick my tongue out at him. “At least I don’t cross my sevens. Speaking of pretentious.”

  “Crossing sevens isn’t pretentious,” Will says. “If you don’t cross them, they look like ones. I’m avoiding major error.”

  “Pretentious,” I tease him.

  “Say what you will,” he says, “I won’t be responsible for someone going to jail because I didn’t cross my seven.”

  I could also tease him about the fact that the dress shirt he’s wearing right now probably cost over a hundred dollars, but I really like how well-dressed he is these days, so I’m not going to risk making him feel self-conscious over that. I’ve always thought Will was really cute, but now that he’s upped his clothing game, he’s downright handsome.

  “Anyway.” He leans in close to me so that I can feel his hot breath. His breath smells minty, probably thanks to the box of tic tacs he keeps in his car. It’s sweet that even after all this time, he still pops a tic tac when he knows he’s going to see me. “Want to head out to the movie?”

  I nod. “Let’s go.”

  Except Will doesn’t move. He leans in, his lips just touching my earlobe. My whole body tingles slightly. “And then after the movie, I’m going to make you scream,” he whispers.

  I touch his cheek, drawing him closer to me. “Is that so?”

  “Very much so.” He kisses me on my neck and I gasp. “It’s going to be all about you tonight.”

  I smile at that thought. God, it’s been a while. Stupid Hitchcock and Saperstein.

  “Also,” he says, “I bought plane tickets for Vegas. And booked a hotel.”

  I pull away and raise my eyebrows at him. “Seriously?”

  He nods. “December thirteenth. Non-refundable.”

  I suck in a breath. I didn’t really think he’d do it. “What hotel?”

  “Bellagio,” he says. “I got us a huge suite. With a Jacuzzi.”

  “I love Jacuzzis!” I gasp.

  He grins. “Yes, I am well aware of your love for Jacuzzis.”

  Oh my God, this is really going to happen. Will and I are finally going to get hitched. Now I have to find a dress. I’ve got that simple white silk dress in my closet, but that was just when I thought we were racing to City Hall for a quickie ceremony. I want something nicer if we’re going to Vegas, even if it’s still sort of a quickie ceremony.

  Well, I’ve still got plenty of time to find the perfect dress. After all, what really matters is that we’re finally going to do this thing. We’re finally getting married.

  Chapter 15

  I have been religiously showing up to Reid’s office hours every single week, but I’m not entirely sure how much it’s helping. We’ve got another midterm next week and I don’t know if I feel that much more prepared for it than I was for the first one. But I’m going to do my best.

  Reid is already with a student when I arrive. She’s clearly a freshman and she looks so ridiculously young, from her tight, unlined skin to her thick brown ponytail to her small breasts that don’t show even a hint of sag.

  I know she’s got to be at least seventeen or eighteen, but she looks more like thirteen or fourteen. A lot of the eighteen year olds look that way to me. I blame television and movies, where actors are always much older than the roles they get cast for. So an eighteen year old looks fourteen, a fourteen year old looks ten, a ten year old looks five, and a five year old looks like a newborn. Stupid television and movies.

  “Thanks so much, Reid,” the fourteen/eighteen year old is saying. “That was really helpful.”

  It occurs to me that if she’s eighteen now, that means she was born in the late nineties. When she was born, Kurt Cobain was already dead for several years. Britney Spears had already made her debut album. Bill Clinton was already in his second term of presidency. This girl probably doesn’t even know what a VCR is. I should ask her.

  No, maybe I shouldn’t.

  As crappy as I’m feeling about myself at this moment, it gives me a slight lift to see the way Reid’s eyes light up at the sight of me. He hurries the other girl out of his office and sits me down next to him.

  “Libby,” he says as he strokes his goatee.

  “Reid,” I say.

  He grins at me. “I have so much to tell you about the rally. It’s going to be freaking awesome.”

  “That’s great,” I say, “but what I really want to talk about now is mitochondria.”

  No, I don’t really. I’d much rather talk about the rally. But nothing about the rally is going to be on my upcoming exam.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what,” Reid says. “We talk about mitochondria now, then we go to lunch to talk about the rally.”

  I bite my lip. I don’t think Will would be too excited about my having lunch alone with a guy who obviously is interested in me. The more we work together, the more Reid’s little crush has been worrying me. It’s not like I haven’t been straight about the fact that I’m seriously involved with someone else, but for reasons that I don’t entirely understand, he’s very into me. I don’t get it—I’m not that alluring.

  “Josh will be there too,” Reid says, noticing my hesitation.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  We spend about thirty minutes discussing mitochondria and the other components of the cell until I almost want to slit my wrists. By the time we finish, I’m very much ready to get some lunch.

  Reid suggests a nearby diner, which presents a dilemma for me while I contemplate the menu. When I go to a diner, I always get a burger and fries. Always. Because what else are you supposed to get at a diner? But I’ve been trying to stick to at least not eating mammals, which means a burger is out of the question. Unless I get a turkey burger. Or a veggie burger.

  Ooh, they have a black bean burger. That sounds like it might be good.

  Reid seems impressed with me when I order the black bean burger, which makes me uneasy. Nothing I eat should ever be something where so
meone else says, “Wow, I can’t believe you’re eating that.” But it’s too late.

  “Everything is falling into place for the rally,” Reid tells me. “We’ve got a time, a location, and we’ve got this spokeswoman who is, like… so passionate. I mean, she’s basically driving the whole thing. She’s a lawyer and she told me she’s been trying to bring Hanford down for years.”

  “That’s great,” I say.

  “You should meet her, Libby,” he says. “I think you two would really hit it off—you’ve got a lot in common. Also, she’s… older, like you.”

  I try to ignore that comment. If this lawyer is sixty years old, I’m going to be so angry.

  “We’re really going to need your help with organization and signs, Libby,” Reid tells me. “I want you to be a big part of this.”

  Reid is gazing across the table at me. When we came in, he told me that Josh would be here any minute, but so far, it’s just the two of us. Where’s Josh? I don’t think Reid would lie to me, but seriously, where is the guy?

  Maybe I need to have a talk with Reid.

  Before I can explain to Reid that I can’t be his Mrs. Robinson, Josh runs into the diner breathless and collapses into the seat next to Reid. His beard seems even more scraggly than usual. I wonder how he cleans it. Does he shampoo it? Is there special beard shampoo?

  “I’m so goddamn pissed off,” Josh says, tugging on his beard angrily. I’ve noticed he tends to play with his beard when he’s upset. “That Hanford Corporation is such a bunch of pricks.”

  Reid’s eyes widen. “What happened? The rally is still going forth, isn’t it? They’re not going to try to stop it, are they?”

  “Everything is fine,” Josh assures him. “It’s more… it’s like… how low can they sink?”

  “Pretty low, I assume,” I say. “I mean, they’re already torturing pigs.”

  Josh flashes me a smile. “Yeah, well… it looks like they’re pulling some bullshit moves to get sympathy from the future jury.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “So I was just watching this clip of their trial proceedings,” Josh says, “and get this—they’ve got some lawyer representing them who’s in a wheelchair. I mean, how do they dig up these people?”

  I stare at Josh, a horrible sick feeling in my stomach. No. No. It can’t be.

  “Got your food!” our waitress chirps as she approaches our table with two piping hot plates. She drops my burger and fries down in front of me, but I can only mutely stare at it. I can’t possibly eat it. First of all, it smells rancid and it looks sort of like if someone grilled dog shit up into a patty. But more importantly, I have completely lost my appetite.

  “This lawyer you saw at the trial,” I say weakly. “You know, the one in the wheelchair. Was he, like, some really old man?”

  Please be old. Please be old.

  Josh thinks for a moment. “Sort of. Well, not that old. Maybe your age.” I’m only a few years older than you, you asshole. “He didn’t look decrepit or anything, but obviously the only reason they had him was for sympathy.”

  I swallow hard. “Did you catch his name, by any chance?”

  “No.” Josh shakes his head. “He’s nobody important. Just one of their pawns.”

  I reach into my purse for my phone. Screw being polite—I need to know now. With shaking fingers, I type into the search window: William Kaplan lawyer Hanford.

  It takes exactly five seconds for my phone to confirm my worst fear.

  Chapter 16

  I don’t feel like waiting around to talk to Will. After all, he might not get home till midnight. This isn’t the kind of conversation I want to have on the phone.

  I’ve got to work in the afternoon, but right after I finish, I take the subway to the offices of Saperstein and Hitchcock.

  Saperstein and Hitchcock is one of the largest law firms in the city and occupies most of the top floors of a glossy, new high rise building. I’ve been there enough times that the guards know me and don’t make me stop to get a visitor’s badge, even though they’re really supposed to. That’s the benefit of showing a little bit of leg.

  As I ride up in the elevator to Will’s floor, I try to think of what I’m going to say to him:

  How could you not tell me your client was one of the most evil companies in the country?

  How could you defend someone so evil?

  Do you have any morals at all?

  The truth is, I have no idea what I’m going to say. I know people joke around that people don’t work for Saperstein and Hitchcock because they want to make the world a better place, but in my heart, I truly believed that the clients Will represented were good people. Because Will is a good person. How could a good person defend bad people?

  Wow. I sound like I’m five years old asking these questions.

  It’s early enough that Will’s secretary Joan hasn’t taken off yet for the night. I love Joan—she’s efficient and organized, but I especially love the fact that she’s thirty years older than Will and not someone he’s likely to cheat with during one of his late nights. Then again, I’ve seen some cute paralegals bouncing around the office.

  “Hi, Joan,” I say.

  “Libby!” Joan’s face crinkles in a smile. “It’s so good to see you, sweetie. It’s been a while.”

  That’s true. When Will and I were first dating, I came here all the time. I guess I’ve phased it out, especially since starting school.

  “Yeah,” I say simply. “Is Will in his office?”

  “He never leaves,” Joan laughs.

  The door to Will’s office is slightly ajar. I study the gold lettering: William Kaplan, J.D., Junior Partner. He’s the youngest partner the firm has ever had—he’s worked so damn hard to get to this point.

  I knock and the door opens part-way. His office is ridiculously large—significantly bigger than the room I used to sleep in before he and I moved in together. I see Will at his desk, his hair slightly tousled, slumped forward slightly, his brow scrunched together as he peers through his glasses at his computer screen. He looks exhausted but adorable. Without even looking up, he says, “I told you, I’ll have the brief done by tomorrow morning. For Christ’s sake, could you just—” He stops mid-sentence when he notices that it’s me standing at the door. The irritation instantly leaves his face and his eyes light up. “Libby!”

  “Hi,” I say quietly.

  “My God.” He pushes himself away from his desk and rounds his marble desk. He looks so ridiculously happy to see me, I feel sort of guilty that I came here to yell at him. “This is just what I needed right now. They’re driving me nuts here. Did you bring dinner? Let’s go out to dinner, okay?”

  “Um,” I say.

  He stops in front of me and wraps his arms around my upper body, burying his head in the space between my breasts. I feel his fingers clinging to me. “I missed you,” he whispers into the fabric of my shirt.

  It’s hard to disentangle myself from his embrace. It would be so easy to just put the whole thing aside and discuss it another time. But I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t get this off my chest.

  “Libby?” He looks up at me with his brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”

  I take a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me your ‘big client’ is the Hanford Corporation?”

  Understanding dawns on Will’s face. He rubs his knees for a few seconds before he says, “Did Mia tell you?”

  Mia? Why would Mia have…?

  Oh my God. That night when she was being all cold to him… she must have known he was Hanford’s lawyer. And that he was keeping it from me. Apparently, I’m the only person in the world not capable of using Google.

  “I figured it out on my own,” I say indignantly. “I mean, it’s everywhere. There are like a hundred articles mentioning your name online.”

  He shrugs, not looking terribly perturbed. “Well, I told you it’s a high publicity case.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know you wer
e working for somebody evil!” I cry.

  “Evil?” He raises his eyebrows at me. “You think this company is evil? What does that even mean? Real people and companies aren’t evil, Libby. Everyone and everything is nuanced—even Magneto isn’t entirely evil.”

  His reference to the X-Men makes me think he isn’t taking my distress entirely seriously.

  “Hitler was evil,” I say.

  “Fine, Hitler was evil,” Will agrees. “But everyone else is nuanced.”

  I give him a look. “If that’s the case, tell me how torturing poor pigs is nuanced. Justify that to me.”

  “Fine.” Will folds his arms across his chest. “Hanford is one of the biggest employers of uneducated American workers in the entire country. They don’t outsource the way other companies do, and they’ve been key in the country’s recovery from this recession. Hanford concedes that the living conditions of the animals could be better and they’ve already agreed to make changes without litigation. But the changes that are being demanded of them are extreme and prohibitively costly, and ultimately, would result in massive layoffs.” He raises his eyebrows. “You want to tell a five-year-old girl that she’s losing her house in time for Christmas so the pigs can live in luxury?”

  Damn. That’s the annoying thing about dating a lawyer. He can always out-argue me.

  “I still think it’s wrong,” I say, although he’s definitely taken some of the wind out of my sails.

  “Look,” Will says, “I’m working with them to make changes in their practices. The last thing they want is to appear unsympathetic to a jury.”

  “Isn’t that why they hired a lawyer in a wheelchair?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  Will’s eyes darken. I shouldn’t have said that—even if it’s true, it was a low blow. Sometimes I think I should duct tape my mouth shut.