by Ally Decker
She didn't let herself flinch or waver, but she was so tense, she had trouble pushing the words out smoothly. This, right here, was more than just picking up the challenge they'd thrown when they'd told her to come here. She was tossing the same challenge back in their faces.
"Watch it, Ms. Ratner." Willis narrowed his eyes. "You're walking on very thin ice here."
And suddenly, Marissa didn't care anymore. She didn't care about the two of them or this sad excuse of being sent to the principal's office. She didn't care about pretending to be polite, exchanging jabs as if it was going to solve anything.
"No, I don't think so," she said, looking from one of them to the other once again. "What I'm doing is making sure the clients of our firm, people who came here to get help, get the best kind of help possible. If that's not to your liking, then, again, it makes me wonder whose side you are on, because from where I'm standing, you wanted to hang the plaintiffs out to dry." She shook her head at Palmer. "What is it, are you hoping to get Dalio as clients? I hope you know what you're doing since they're about to be in even more legal and financial trouble. Make sure they pay their fees first, before they lose everything in court."
"You're clearly forgetting your—"
"I'm not forgetting anything," she said, standing up. "What I'm doing is resigning from this firm and continuing to make sure my family and other affected people are getting what they deserve out of this. And if I get so much as a glimpse of Justin Woodley not getting them the best deal he could possibly get, another media shitstorm involving Dalio will drag this firm down with them. Have a nice day."
Marissa walked out of that office straight to the office bathroom and as soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wall, her legs shaking.
What did I just do?
CHAPTER TWELVE
It had been four days since Dean had seen, or even talked to Marissa, and he still felt like shit. He'd ignored his friends' questions and frowns, and 'I told you so' expressions that had been even worse. He went through the motions, did his job, went home, stared at the TV until it seemed like he would be able to fall asleep, went to bed, slept very little, got up, and went to work again. Rinse, repeat.
He'd almost called her so many times it seemed like it was four years ago all over again. And just like then, he never did actually call her. It's better like this, he kept telling himself, hoping that at some point it would start feeling true.
Four days and counting, and it hadn't happened yet.
The intercom signal pulled him out of staring through his windows and not really seeing anything. His ten o'clock was here. Talia. A part of him hoped that Marissa was with her, that her need to make sure the case was handled well until the end would win over the fact that she didn't want to see him.
That part was what squeezed his gut hard as he saw Talia waiting alone in the lobby.
Dean knew how to pretend, though, so he greeted her with a smile and took her to his office to talk through the final stages of the Dalio case. There wasn't much left to do other than monitor the things they put in motion, and from what Talia was telling him, the settlement talks were going better than expected.
"The lawyer's fighting for us for real this time," Talia said with a wide smile. "It's like something flipped once that video got viral and everything. I can't thank you enough."
He wondered what happened at the firm to make Woodley change his tune. After seeing Palmer being buddies with Dalio's VP, Dean hadn't liked their chances one bit.
"…And Marissa is, of course, following it all, even as she's finishing her own cases up."
Dean paused at that.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Talia raised her eyebrows. "Well, she's leaving the firm, so of course—"
"She's leaving?" He couldn't believe this. Did they somehow find out about her being there on Monday night? Did they fire her over this?
"I thought she told you." Talia ran a hand through her hair and hesitated. "Well, the cat's out of the bag now, anyway. Yes, she resigned on Tuesday. She didn't tell me much, only that it was a spur of the moment decision, but she doesn't regret it." She winced. "I hope it's not because of this case, I wouldn't want to be the reason—"
"Don't blame yourself," Dean told her, shoving his emotions down so hard he'd have to dig a week to find them later on. Or not. "Trust me, it's never one thing that makes someone do this."
She took a deep breath and offered him a smile, a bit dimmer than the last one, but it was still there. "I hope you're right."
Dean shook his head, thinking about his decision, and Nate's, and Shawn's. There had been no one thing, but, if anything, that last thing that tipped the scales. "Trust me, this is something I know a bit about."
He went through the rest of the meeting on autopilot, and it wasn't until he walked her out and returned to his office that the whole thing hit him in full force.
Marissa quit the job. She quit Willis, Palmer, and Singer. Dean couldn't believe this. He had no love for that company as a whole, but Marissa did, and he could only imagine how hard it must've been.
Fuck, that only highlighted how much of an idiot he'd been on Monday. He'd assumed the worst, just like that, and he hadn't even let her explain.
Or maybe you heard what you wanted to hear to make it an easier break for yourself.
Her words came back to him and once again, they felt like a punch in the stomach. Had he really done that, years ago? Had he done it again now?
He sat down on the armchair hard and put his head in his hands. He had no idea what he should do. Should he leave it alone? Should he give it a rest, decide it simply wasn't meant to be?
More importantly, could he do that?
No, he realized. No, he couldn't. First of all, he owed Marissa an apology. And second, if he left it alone now, if he let it destroy them again, it would mean doing exactly what she had accused him of—taking an easy way out when things were tough.
Dean had always thought of himself as the guy who could push through anything, who never backed away from the fight that was worth fighting. But now, for some reason, only moments ago he'd been half-way ready to give up on perhaps the most important fight of his life.
Four years ago, he'd thought there was no fight left to be fought. Mistake or not, he'd had to live with that choice ever since, but now, now he could do things differently. He could make things right and at least give it a shot.
He was out of his seat and out of the office before he could pause to think about it any longer. He saw Nate approaching, but he shook his head. "Not now, I've got to go."
"What? Where? I was just coming to—"
"If it's a work emergency, you and Shawn have to take care of it, sorry." Dean kept walking until he got to the lobby that was thankfully empty except for Alicia.
"It's not—"
"If it's another pep talk, I'm really not interested, Nate." Dean turned to Alicia. "Please cancel all my afternoon appointments. Tell Colin Davies I'll give him a call tonight and reschedule everyone else to Monday or Tuesday."
Alicia jotted it down as she tried not to smile.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Nothing." She grinned. "Go get her, tiger."
Dean just gave her a look and headed to the door before Nate was onto him again. He loved his friends like brothers, but they didn't have a say in this.
It was high time he groveled properly, and he didn't need an audience for that.
***
Dean parked a few houses down the street from the building Marissa lived in and stared at her windows as he tightened his grip over the steering wheel. She might not be home, she might not open the door, she might slam them in his face when she saw him… All the what-ifs crowded in his head, and he needed a minute to get it together.
Not backing away now.
The walk to Marissa's building seemed longer than it should, but he got rewarded—a delivery guy was leaving right as Dean got to the door, and he was able to get in without n
eeding to call up. One problem down.
He pressed the bell as soon as he got to Marissa's door, not giving himself time to overthink it again. He wasn't prepared she'd open it after two seconds, though.
"Did you forget—"
Marissa paused and stared, and Dean did the same. She was barefoot, dressed in shorts and a loose T-shirt, and her hair was tied high on top of her head. He forced himself not to give too much attention to her legs, raising his gaze back up to her face.
"Hi there," he said, voice low and rough, as if he hadn't been talking for a long time.
She dropped her hand from the door handle and stood there, not saying a word.
"May I come in?" Dean wanted to rub his hands over his thighs, but he didn't want to appear nervous. He needed to keep it together.
For a moment, it seemed like she wasn't going to say anything, or do anything but stand there and watch him before probably shutting the door in his face. Or maybe she was waiting for him to turn back and leave.
He wasn't leaving.
"Come in," she finally said, almost in a whisper, and when he entered her apartment, he couldn't help remembering the last time he'd been there. How things could change in a few days.
Dean noticed the bag with the same logo the delivery guy had on his shirt. "Chinese food, huh?" he asked and winced. He was terrible at small talk, even with people he knew very well.
"Perfect comfort food, second only to pizza, and I had pizza two nights in a row." Marissa closed her door and then crossed her arms against her abdomen. She looked away. "Why are you here, Dean?"
"I've heard you left the firm."
Marissa nodded, sucking in her lower lip before releasing it with a quiet pop. "Yes, I did. That doesn't answer my question, though."
"I wanted to see you again. Talk to you. Apologize."
She looked at him then. "Which one is it?"
"All of them." He took a step closer, but then paused. He had no idea what the rules were right now. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Her gaze seemed to pierce through him, searching for an answer as if she could read it from his face.
He wished she could. It would be a lot easier. The problem was, they seemed to be running into miscommunication problems even when they were talking.
"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions and didn't let you explain or even finish your thought," he finally said, wincing at the memory of what he'd said. "It was stupid, and I didn't mean to hurt you. It's not… It's not what I think of you, not really."
"Now that I've resigned," she told him as if she was finishing his sentence. "You suddenly think better of me because I left the firm."
Dean shook his head. "No. No, it's not like that." He took a small step forward. "The truth is, I think the world of you. I always have, and I probably always will. You're one of the smartest people I know, you care about people, you fight for them and for what you think is right. You're all that and more, and I know you'd never jeopardize this case."
Marissa let out a humorless laugh, turning away. "It didn't sound like that. It sounded like you thought I'd be willing to go along with whatever they were doing, no matter what."
Dean opened his mouth to argue, but it wasn't what they needed. "I can see how you thought that. I definitely crossed a line. I'm sorry." He stepped closer and reached out, but let his hand fall before it could touch Marissa's arm. "I honestly don't think badly of you. And I didn't believe you'd go that far, either. I was just…"
"What? You were just what, Dean?" She rounded on him, fire in her eyes. "Tell me."
"Scared."
It might have been the most difficult thing to admit to, here, now, to her face. But it also seemed like the most important one.
"I was scared." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, fighting to push the words out. "Before that fight, those few days I felt like we were getting back to what we used to be. Not fighting, not talking around each other, not dividing our lives and staying in different camps. We were working together, we were laughing, we were… I didn't think I'd ever have a chance to kiss you again." He shook his head. "And then I did, and everything felt right."
Marissa's eyes were wet, but she slowly turned to face him. There was a foot of space between them, and Dean wished he could cross it, pull her close and not let go until everything felt right again.
He didn't.
"I got scared I was going to lose you again."
"And instead of actually keeping me, you pushed me away again," Marissa whispered, brushing the tears quickly. "Why is that?"
"I don't know."
He knew it was a cop out answer, and he fully expected to be called on it, but it was also the truth. He had no idea why he did it.
Marissa nodded. "Fine. What changed now, then?"
"I've been fighting with myself the whole week to call you, but I didn't know what to say."
"So you waited until you heard about me quitting?"
"I know how it looks like," he told her quietly. "I know. But it wasn't about being right or wrong. Not now, and not then. It was about me, and you, and them. It just seemed like—"
"Like I was picking them over you."
Dean grimaced. Hearing it out loud made him look petty, but it didn't make it any less true. He nodded.
"You were never so insecure in the past. What happened?"
"I don't—"
"Don't tell me you don't know." She shook her head. "You may think it's true, but I need you to answer this now. What happened that made you stop trusting me?"
"It's not about trusting you! It never was."
"What was it about, then?"
He took a deep breath. He didn't know, but that wasn't enough. He needed to figure it out. What was it? Marissa was right, he had never lacked confidence, never doubted what he could and couldn't do. What changed?
Then it struck him.
"I think I… I was afraid I wasn't the guy you chose to be with anymore. We'd met in the firm, you knew me as a lawyer, you fell in love with the guy I was there."
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I fell in love with the guy you were outside of the firm, too."
Dean winced. He wasn't doing it right. "Yes, but was I the same guy when I dropped everything and started a new company from scratch? Sure, I hoped we'd be successful, but it could've all failed and we'd be left with nothing. And no," he went on quickly when she opened her mouth. "I'm not saying you cared about me only when I was successful, or had money, or whatever. But I think I… I didn't know who I'd be, so what did that make me to you?"
"You idiot."
Marissa punched him lightly in the arm, the same way she sometimes did when they were still together. It rattled something in him loose, and he could breathe easier now.
It wasn't a gesture of anger, but of fondness, and she wouldn't have made it if she wanted nothing to do with him.
"I love you," she said next, and Dean didn't care about anything else. He wasn't afraid anymore.
"I love you, too."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Marissa pulled him forward into a kiss, her heart thudding inside her chest like it wanted to break free and show itself to him.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Her words and his, they ran through her head over and over as Dean kissed her back, licking over her mouth, demanding entrance.
She read him loud and clear. Time for talking was over.
She was fine with that.
Dean grabbed the nape of her neck in one hand, and the heat went through her like a lightning strike. She needed him, and she needed him now.
"Bedroom," she whispered against his lips as she pulled back enough to take a breath, and then he lifted her, just like that, and God, she'd forgotten how hot that was. She circled her legs around his hips and held on, leaving a line of kisses over his jaw as he walked to her bedroom.
He tossed her on the bed and followed right after, covering her with his body before she could even get a look at him standing over her
. He claimed her mouth again, hot and demanding. At the same time, he was pushing her T-shirt up, and Marissa shivered as he dragged his fingers up her skin, leaving goose bumps. When he brushed the underside of her breast, she moaned into his lips and raised her hands so he could take the shirt off of her. She wasn't wearing a bra, and Dean's eyes turned darker at the sight of her, half-naked. He leaned down to lick at her nipple, while his thumb still caressed the delicate skin under it.
"Oh, fuck," she panted, grabbing the hair at the back of his head to hold on to. She needed him inside her. "Come on, hurry up," she urged, but he only bit her in answer, making her lose her breath.
"We have time," he told her as he lifted his gaze and met hers. It sounded more than just a line in the middle of sex, and Marissa shivered once again, this time pulling him down for a kiss. She licked into his mouth and demanded attention.
I'm here, she wanted to tell him. I'm here. Come on already. Fuck me.
"We'll have time later on as well," she told him. She hoped he heard her own admission in it.
And maybe he did. He pulled back to push her shorts and panties off and then, after brushing his big, strong hand over the inside of her thigh, he got up quickly to undress himself.
"Tease." She scooted up the bed to rest her head on the pillow and spread her legs as he fought with his slacks. This, right here, being completely naked while he was only now getting out of his suit, made her suck in her lip to swallow a moan. She used to love it, back when they were together—she'd loved when he fucked her still half in his suit, loved being naked when he wasn't.
As it turned out, she still loved it just as much.
"Who are you calling a tease?" Dean knelt at the bottom of the bed and she spread her legs even more, but he only smirked.
He grabbed her ankle and lifted her leg up, dropping a kiss on her shin. Then another. And another. He released his grip, and Marissa lowered her leg, but Dean continued kissing up her body.