Page 53 of Defended By Love

“Tomorrow!” I say, interrupting Beth’s gush about all the things we’re going to talk about tomorrow. “I’ve got to get in there.” I gesture to behind the barricade.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Dominic called you in to help the team. Let’s go. I brought muffins for the police officers.”

Of course, she did.

Grant and I trail behind her as she walks up to the police officer, Mr. Congeniality who I talked to twice previously today/not today. Beside me, Grant’s stare only intensifies.

“What?” I hiss as we walk straight past the police officer who waves happily at us while he chows down on the muffin. To be fair, Beth makes delicious muffins.

“This is a markedly better plan,” he says in a tone that I’m beginning to recognize as teasing.

I stick my tongue out at him.

Let me repeat that: I, a lawyer with an excellent win rate who graduated in the top five percent of my class at law school, stick out my tongue in rebuttal to some teasing.

Oh how I’ve fallen.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” I warn him. “I’m still going to need you to fly me out of there when I grab every single thing I can find about the building collapse.”

Grant stops mid step to look at me. “This is why you let me drive you here? So I can fly you out of trouble?”

I nod.

“Sounds like you really trust me to be there for you, then?” He smiles at me like he’s scored some sort of point.

Thankfully, I’m saved from answering when Beth falls into step with us.

“I know I should probably save this talk for our lunch tomorrow, but I had the best idea for a team-bonding activity for the office. Now, it might sound weird, but hear me out: shorts!”

Ugh. On one side of me I have a man who wants to talk forever with me. On the other, I have someone who wants to talk about shorts in the office. Including the day where I died, this has to be the worst loop.

God, I hope I find out something good. This day has got to get better.

Chapter 26

When I was younger, I was always that kid who referred to my teacher as ‘Mom’ by accident. In my eternal quest to prove my worth to whichever teacher I had that year, I’d organize our class library or something similar and call out to her for her approval, only to call her ‘Mom’ loud enough for the whole class to hear. Again and again.

I’ve called Dominic, my boss, Dad at least ten times.

This year.

Normally, this boss-pleasing compulsion is useful. It forces me to stay late and finish work that would take other associates days to complete. It makes me constantly hone already-solid arguments until they become works of art. It makes me sacrifice my health and every ounce of my free time to earn the respect of the partners and be the best lawyer I can be. Like I said, it’s useful.

Now, though, it’s filling me with confusing feelings. I’m going to see my boss while in a clear morning-after outfit with a man who likes to say we’re soulmates.

My boss is going to know I have sex.

The thought is as terrifying as the revelation that coincides with it. As a successful woman in my thirties, I should not be worried that my boss will know I have a sex life. It’s possible my brown nosing has gone into unhealthy territory.

I probably need to start seeing a therapist to work through some of these slightly odd eccentricities. It would be nice to stop having the dream where Dominic strangles me with his tie while I continue to file paperwork as a church choir sings behind us.

Panic seizes me as Dominic sees the three of us and nods. I stop, clutching frantically at Grant.

“Do you think I need therapy?” I ask.

Grant’s eyes widen so much that they look like white orbs behind his mop of unruly hair.

“Am I still allowed to lie?”

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