Page 54 of Master Debater

“Long day, long week.” He scrubbed the hand not holding the slice of pepperoni over his face. “Long everything. And suddenly I’m surrounded by incompetence, as if everyone I work with has forgotten how to do their jobs right when I need them most.”

Okay, I’d decided against saying anything, but wasn’t he being unnecessarily harsh? “I’m sure everyone’s stressed out and feeling the pressure. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“I don’t—not with this stuff. That’s why I can’t trust anyone else to comb through the files. I’ve got to read through every single one myself, like I didn’t have enough to do already. But who needs sleep? I might as well give up eating and shitting next.”

“As long as it’s not sex,” I said, waggling my eyebrows as I nudged his side, and he barely smiled, my joke not lightening the mood as much as I hoped. I placed my hand on his biceps, doing my best to suffuse him with comfort like he’d done to me when I arrived. “Hey. You’re only one person, and that’s why you have a team. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, because I’ll make it work.” He grumbled, folded his pizza slice in half, and shoved the rest in his mouth. Then he wiped his fingertips on a napkin and lifted another file.

I nearly asked what I could do to help, but we’d already been through that before. I didn’t have the skills or the clearance. As I sat there, wondering if I’d come over just to watch him read files, the doubts I was sure I’d ridded myself of jabbed at me, growing sharper and doing more damage the longer I held back.

I understood he was busy, but so was I, and I was the one putting in all the effort. He hadn’t asked about my work or my music, or anything other than ask if I could pick up the food so we didn’t have to wait so long to eat. Was I his girlfriend or his personal assistant he occasionally fucked?

Maybe I was too needy, but that didn’t stop me from needing certain things from our relationship. I’d already been down this path before, and it was one I promised to never even dip a toe into again.

“Hey, remember how I told you I’d finished my song?”

“Shit. I totally forgot that you asked if I’d get on the piano and help you with the melody. Will you take a raincheck? I just don’t have it in me to deal with that tonight.”

Ouch. My heart splatted as my chest seemed to cave in on itself. No time to “deal with that.” No follow-up questions, like he’d ask me if I were a witness in court. Was that the only way to get his attention?

I’d poured my heart and soul into my music, along with a lot of the emotions I’d experienced while falling for him. While I already figured out how to fix the part of the melody he’d been too busy to help me with, I’d wanted him to hear the song, as the mood of the piece and lyrics pertained to him. But he couldn’t read my mind or know that without me telling him, so I did my best to bury my hurt and try again. “That’s not exactly?—”

His phone rang, and he lifted a finger and answered it without even checking who it was first. Good to know I was on the very bottom of his list when it came to importance.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Nate replied to whatever the caller had told him. “There’s no way they don’t have any files on the matter. They’re trying to bury evidence. Call the judge right now.” Pause. “I don’t care if he’s at dinner with the pope, asleep, or screwing his wife. You get him on the phone. The less time they have to destroy files, the more information we’ll have to hang them with.”

Nate tapped his AirPod again and turned to me. “Sorry about that. Those bastards are trying to give us the run-around, and they’re about to find out who exactly they’re dealing with.”

“Nathan Fox, Esquire?”

“Damn right. The fact that they’re claiming they don’t have any files means what’s in them could be the huge break we need.”

“I hope it works out in your favor, and I’m sure you’ll use what you find to take it to ’em. Speaking of huge breaks?—”

“Of course, it means dozens, if not hundreds, more files I’ll have to sort through myself, since my paralegal just skims important paragraphs, missing pertinent information, right and left.” He tossed aside the file he’d been flipping through, and I thought, Finally, I’m going to have his full attention.

But then he stood and stretched. “Want something to drink? I’m gonna just grab a beer, since I only have about an hour to spare before I have to dive into the next file, but I have a fully stocked bar.”

“Yeah, I’ll have a glass of wine.” At the sinking sensation that tugged wider at the void that’d begun to form within me, I debated choosing something stronger. What was going to be an already difficult conversation was about to turn into a two-pronged one, barbed and hard to traverse on both sides. “Actually, can you make that a gin and tonic?”

“Anything you want, you got it.”

While I certainly hoped that was true, he’d told me similar the last time my news about the things happening in my career had been overshadowed by his. He’d added I had him as well, but I didn’t. Not all of him. Part of me wished I could settle, but I was too familiar with the pain caused in the wake of that, and again, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t play second fiddle to a man ever again.

Even if that man were the Beyonce of lawyers.

Chapter 30

Willa

Nate returned with the drinks, and as I studied him, a tight band made of longing and fear constrained my lungs. If he cared about me—truly cared, the same way I did for him—surely, he’d understand.

Not that this was a test, but at the same time, it’d been since college since so much had been on the line in that space between pass or fail.

Within a couple of minutes, he returned, drinks in hand.

I took a sip, letting the warmth coat my throat and chest. “Ooh, nice and strong. Just the way I like it.” Here goes nothing. “So, earlier today?—”

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