Unconditionally

by Erin Lyon

  I wanted to tell Jonathan. He’d be so excited for me. He’d laugh. But mostly, he’d get it. He was there through all of law school, there to hear all about my very first court appearance, there for my first win.

  I pulled out my cell phone and looked at it.

  I had a text from Dave.

  Hey Beautiful. Can I come by after work tonight? It sucks only being able to see you on weekends because of our work schedules.:(

  Ugh. He finishes up the late news at 11:35 p.m. so he’d be by no earlier than 11:45 p.m. and I have to be up by 7:00 a.m. Not great scheduling.

  I texted Jonathan.

  Hey. I just wanted to tell you about my first depo today. I totally got the woman to say exactly what I needed her to say:)

  I set my phone down, with butterflies in my stomach, waiting for him to reply.

  Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility;) He always made me laugh. That’s awesome Babe. When do I get to hear all the details?

  Yikes. Come on. Don’t act like you didn’t know this might come up.

  Soon? How have you been?

  Keeping busy. Miss you.

  I miss you, too.

  Okay. Sack up. Ask.

  Are you dating?

  I’ve gone out once or twice. Nothing major. You?

  A little. Nothing major.

  We were both using “nothing major” as code for “not sleeping with anyone.” I think.

  CHAPTER 6

  I’d agreed to let Dave stop by after work but made clear that it would be brief. I’d taken off the makeup, brushed the teeth, and gotten into my jammies by the time there was a knock on my door.

  I cracked the door to be sure it was Dave. Once I opened the door, he rushed me and wrapped me in a bear hug.

  I pointed over his shoulder. “Close the door.”

  Without putting me back on my feet, he used his foot to push the door closed.

  He kissed me as he walked over to the sofa and sat down, setting me across his lap. Once settled, he continued kissing me and started planting kisses down my neck.

  “Easy, cowboy.”

  He growled. “I don’t get to see you enough.”

  “You’re the one with the crazy schedule.”

  “Well it was never a problem when I didn’t have a woman.”

  “You don’t have a woman now,” I said through gritted teeth.

  He started working his way down my neck again, murmuring against my skin. “Pretty sure I do, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

  I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back and scurried off his lap so that I was sitting next to him on the sofa. “Is it the challenge thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have never had a guy be this persistent about wanting a commitment.”

  He looked annoyed. “And that’s what you think? That I only want it because you’re playing hard to get?”

  “I’m not playing anything, Dave.” I looked at him in his frustrated silence. He was handsome, but … Always the “but” with him. I’d started dating Dave in the wake of Jonathan’s whiplash-inducing changes of heart, which left me more than a little hurt and confused. That was coupled with my unhealthy attachment to Mr. Unattainable himself, Adam Lucas. But now that Dave was making things more complicated, I needed to figure out why I was still seeing him. Or if I should be.

  “Look, I’m not the kind of girl that will string a guy along if I might hurt him and, until recently, anyway, you certainly did not seem like the type to suddenly fall for a girl. But even looking at you now, I still have alarm bells sounding in my head, making me question your sincerity.

  “I like you. I do. But I’m not looking for a relationship, and the more you keep pushing it—the more I just think we need to stop seeing each other.”

  He looked a little stunned. “So that’s what that conversation feels like from this side.”

  I laughed softly and shrugged. “Sorry.”

  His expression softened, but he still frowned. “So, are you dumping me?”

  I put my hands up between us, exasperated. “See? That’s exactly what I mean! We aren’t together. I can’t dump you!”

  Now he smiled and started laughing. “I know. Shit. Calm down. I’m just messing with you.”

  I blew out a sigh and scowled at him.

  “Okay. It still sounds to me like this is more of a trust issue, since I used to be a player.”

  “Used to be?”

  “Exactly. So, the way I see it, with some time, you’ll realize I’m sincere. And once we clear that hurdle, you’ll be madly in love with me.” He finished with a dangerous smirk and pulled me onto his lap again.

  I kept a hand against his chest in an effort to keep some space between us. He looked down at my hand and raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. When I smiled at his annoying-as-hell determination, he leaned in and gave me another, slightly longer kiss. He snaked his arms around me and pulled me in a little closer to him.

  This feels a little too good, considering that I still have no idea what I’m doing with him.

  “It’s late and I have to get up early, Dave. I said you could stop by, but that was it.”

  “Maybe I should spend the night.”

  “Not sure that would help with me making my bedtime.”

  “I plan on putting you to bed.”

  “Dave.”

  He let out the big, whiny sigh I’d heard on more than one occasion when he didn’t get his way. “Okay.” He slid me off his lap and stood up. He pulled me up by the hand and hugged me. He gave me another long kiss.

  “Saturday you’re mine.”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  He smiled, displaying those too-perfect teeth. “Both?”

  I laughed. “Fine.”

  “You could sound a little more excited.”

  I gave him an exaggerated smile and threw out some jazz hands for good measure.

  He frowned at me and swatted my behind before heading to the door. “You’re such a smart-ass,” he said on his way out.

  “Good night,” I called to him as he headed to his truck.

  He waved without turning around, and I closed the door.

  * * *

  When I got to the office, I leaned over Mags’s cubicle, where she was booting up her computer.

  “Hey,” she said with a big smile. She was wearing black. All black. Which would seem really subdued for her if she didn’t look like she was channeling Catwoman. Her dark hair blended with the snug black sleeveless sweater and black pants she had on, and the only spot of color was her bright red lipstick.

  “You look like you’re in a good mood,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows innocently. “Not sure what you’re alluding to, boss.”

  I cut my eyes back to Brad’s office and back to her. “Saw Brad chatting with you yesterday.”

  “Yep,” she said, still grinning at me.

  When she didn’t elaborate, I grunted. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  Mags laughed and pointed into my office. I walked into my office and Mags trailed behind me.

  Once I sat down in my desk chair, Mags took her usual position, perched on the edge of my desk with her legs crossed.

  “It’s possible that Brad and I had dinner last night,” she said. When I busted out an overly hopeful smile, she held a hand up to me, complete with long fingernails, painted red to match her lipstick. “Just dinner.”

  I nodded and toned down my grin.

  After a pause, Mags leaned down closer to me and added, “Well, and sex.”

  I started laughing and she joined in.

  “Bravo, Brad,” I said. “So? What happened to the whole ‘he’s too much of a homebody for me’ thing?”

  Mags looked at me with her usual directness. “Remember that guy I danced with at the bar last weekend?”

  I nodded. I’d found it ironic that she managed to find the one guy in the bar tha
t looked the most like the guy she had dumped.

  “Well, Sigmund Fucking Freud I am not. I didn’t even realize until I saw Brad on Monday that I was basically out picking up Brad clones. And, let’s be real, it’s not like I was going to be able to replace Brad with someone better than Brad.” She finished with a broad smile that had “smitten” written all over it.

  “I am so happy for you guys. And, I agree—Brad is pretty awesome.”

  “I know. So I was fashionably late to the party, as usual, but I got there.”

  I leaned an elbow on the desk and rested my chin in my palm. “Lucky for you he just sat around pining for you instead of moving on.”

  Mags hopped off my desk and turned sideways to me, with a hand on her hip. “Sweetie, luck had nothing to do with it.” She finished with a hand flourish down her substantial curves.

  “Damn straight,” I agreed.

  A few hours later, I’d just finished tucking my Tupperware back into my drawer after eating lunch at my desk when Mags buzzed me. “Dr. Shaw?”

  “Shit. Rochelle?”

  “Yep.”

  “Does it sound like she’s been crying?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Awesome. Put her through, I guess.”

  I heard Mags chuckle before she hung up. I put on my headset and started Rochelle’s time clock. “Hi, Rochelle.”

  “Hi, Kate. I need advice.”

  Please let it be about law this time. Or cheese. Those are really my two fields of expertise. And who are we kidding; I don’t know that much about law. “What’s going on?”

  “I think we might need to put the child support hearing on hold again.”

  I rolled my eyes, even though I was alone and no one was there to enjoy it. “Okay. I can cancel it again, but we really don’t want to keep taking it on and off the court’s calendar like this.”

  “Right. When is it?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Should we leave it?”

  Seriously. I am not equipped to answer these types of questions. “Well, from a procedural standpoint, we have to notice the hearing. So once we notice it, the hearing won’t be for at least sixteen court days—meaning no weekends or holidays. If we cancel and then you change your mind, we have to notice a new hearing, meaning sixteen more court days…”

  “Oh. I see what you mean.” And now she was sobbing.

  “Rochelle, you don’t sound definite. We can wait a few more days.”

  “I just love him, Kate,” she said, in between sobs. Funny, I kinda hate him.

  “What did he do when he was served with the notice for the child support hearing?”

  “Oh, he completely lost his shit.” Of course. What a prince. “But then we had a really good talk and I feel like we’re really on the same page for the first time in a long time.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, here, Rochelle. I work for you. We’ll proceed how you want to.”

  More sobbing. “Please, Kate. I really need your opinion. As a woman.”

  You so don’t want my womanly opinion. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know either of you well enough to give advice on the matter.”

  More sniffling. I looked at the clock. We’d been on the phone for over fifteen minutes already. I looked over my texts from Jonathan again.

  “I just want to be able to trust him again. To feel safe with him again.”

  “I get that.” And I’m right there with ya, sister.

  She gave a halfhearted laugh. “If I kill him, can you represent me?”

  I laughed at her joke. What I hoped was a joke. “Nope, I don’t do criminal, so let’s keep this in signing court, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sure, now you have advice.” We both laughed. Yes, she was a mess and had an asshole for an Achilles’ heel, but I liked the woman. She knew she was a mess. I can identify with that.

  “Okay, shit. Leave it on the calendar for now. I’ll make a decision for sure in the next day or two.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Well, as much as I’d like to keep talking to you, I can’t really afford it.”

  I laughed. “I understand that, too.”

  “Alright. I’ll be in touch,” she said, before disconnecting. Somehow I didn’t doubt that.

  And thankfully, no mention of the troubling Facebook friend request, which meant I could continue to pretend I never saw it.

  Not long after I’d gotten off the phone with Rochelle, my most “senior” boss, Joe Markson, came into my office for the first time. And I felt bad that he’d made the trip. His back was slightly stooped as he walked, and his head was bald and shiny over the dome. He was basically a TV grandpa. And he was smiling like a grandpa, too. Part of me felt like he might try to steal my nose and then give me a butterscotch hard candy.

  “Mr. Markson,” I said, standing and coming around the desk to meet him.

  “Joe.”

  I nodded at him, smiling.

  “Kate, I’d like you to take a case over for me. These two people have been arguing over a settlement for two and a half years and I’m starting to think their fight is going to outlive me.” We both laughed. “I don’t really have the energy for them anymore, and maybe a new voice of reason will get through to them.”

  “I’d be happy to give it a shot.”

  “I knew you would.” He put a large accordion file in my hands. “Don’t let them get the upper hand on you,” he said, pointing that grandpa finger in my face to drive his point home. “Once you lose it, you’ll never get it back.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “I told her I was bringing an associate in on it, so she’s expecting to meet with you when she comes in today.”

  “Okay. What’s the settlement hung up on?”

  He smiled. “Elvis.”

  “Elvis. What is it? A collectible?”

  “A guinea pig.”

  My mouth dropped open. “A guinea pig.”

  He nodded.

  “They’ve been fighting over a guinea pig for two and a half years?” I asked, astonished.

  “Well, they started fighting over Frank Sinatra, but he got hit by a car.”

  “Do I want to know what Frank was?”

  “The Siamese cat.”

  “Oh. Well, guinea pigs don’t live that long, do they?”

  “They can live for five years, apparently.”

  “And Elvis is how old?”

  “About two and a half years.”

  “Oh.”

  He patted my shoulder. “Good luck.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, boss.”

  He chuckled as he left my office. Certainly more charming when he’s dumping problem clients on me than Tony is.

  I looked at the clock. The client would be here in about an hour, so I figured I’d call opposing counsel and get their take on settlement negotiations before she got here. According to the file, opposing counsel was Beth Erickson, who just happened to be the attorney who had a front row seat to me getting punched out by our feisty little client. At least now I know how to cover up a black eye in case I ever decide to quit the law and become a female boxer.

  “Beth Erickson’s office,” the female voice said.

  “Hello. This is Kate Shaw with Manetti Markson and Mann calling in regards to the Lewis–Hamilton matter.”

  “Let me see if she’s available. One moment.”

  “Beth Erickson.”

  “Hi, Beth. It’s Kate Shaw.”

  “Kate. How’s the eye?”

  “Better. Thank you. So, I’m not sure if Mr. Markson mentioned it, but I’m taking over representation of Dot Hamilton.”

  “Yeah, he told me. I’m jealous. I don’t have an associate to dump this case off on.”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m meeting with my client this afternoon, so I was hoping to get a better idea from you on how negotiations have gone in the past and to find out if there were upcoming motions or trial dates.”

  “Nope, no trial
dates. Good god, could you imagine? Taking the case to trial over a goddamned guinea pig? That would be one pissed-off judge.”

  “Very true.”

  “Ironically, the rest of the settlement went really smoothly, until we got to the damn cat and things got ugly. Then Sinatra went and got hit by a car and Dot blames Daryl and suddenly he was unfit to take care of the rat.”

  “Guinea pig.”

  “Like it matters.”

  “And Daryl refuses to give up Elvis?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but mostly on principle, I think. These two seem like they’re in it more for the fight than anything.”

  “Super. What about money? Can she buy the guinea pig from him?”

  She laughed. Not encouraging. “Neither of these people needs the money. And if they give up fighting over the rodent, then they get to move on with their lives, and neither of them wants that for the other. I just keep hoping the stupid thing will die.”

  Harsh. “Okay. So basically you’re saying that an offer of anything other than giving up Elvis is pointless?”

  She sighed loudly. “Probably, but bring an offer anyway. We have to keep trying.”

  “Have they mediated?”

  “Way back when. Before Sinatra died. The mediator threw them out when they started chucking coffee mugs at each other’s heads.”

  “Well, alrighty then. Sounds like a good time. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good luck,” she said, in a slightly wicked, singsongy voice.

  That afternoon, I sat down with Dot in one of the conference rooms. She was midforties, too thin, and had a pissed-off expression that I was guessing was permanent by now.

  After the usual get-acquainted chitchat, I decided to dive in. “Well, let’s see if we can be creative. There really is nothing else you want from him? Aside from the guinea pig?”

  “Nothing.”

  “There must be something.”

  “I’d take his Maserati,” she said, with a bland tilt of her head.

  Sigh. I stopped myself from hitting my head against the conference table, because I thought that might be a little unprofessional. “Okay. Anything else?”

  She appeared to think about it, then shook her head.

  “Okay. What are you willing to give to get Elvis?”

  She grunted. “You know, I’m the one that always took care of it. I resent that I need to give him anything for it.”