Page 83 of Tides That Bind

Harper bounces excitedly, her face masked with a smile that runs cheek to cheek. We head down the hallway and she adjusts the posterboard she’s got tucked under her arm. I try to ignore the stares that come.

“Did you have to bring that inside?”

“Yes,” Harper says adamantly.

When we arrive at court room nine, I reach for the door, pulling open so she can enter. “It’s a little embarrassing.”

Harper giggles. “You sound like Lucas.”

Maybe I sound like him, but as soon as I step into the room and see the other dozen soon-to-be attorneys, I feel the exact opposite of Lucas.

Old. I feel really fucking old.

“Give me those,” Harper hisses, motioning to my sunglasses sitting on top of my head. I pull them down, pushing back the strands of hair they were holding in place.

I’m directed to take a seat next to the future gang of overgrown, toddler-litigators and Harper heads to the back of the courtroom to sit with the other supportive patrons who were roped into coming today.

For fifteen minutes, I fidget, twiddling my thumbs, picking pieces of nearly invisible lint from my suit jacket. I peak over my shoulder, finding Harper staring, practically bouncing in her seat. She holds a thumbs up and scowls when I roll my eyes at her ridiculous enthusiasm, but it’s only half-hearted. Maybe I like having an audience, even of just one.

Even if it is Harper.

I’m tempted to loosen the tie Harper had secured before we left the house when the judge enters and we all stand.

The entire process is as anticlimactic as I imagined it would be. One by one we’re called up, standing in front of the judge for no more than a minute and half as we swear and sign ourselves in.

“Riley Monroe.”

I’m relieved by the time my name is called because my legs are about to fall asleep and I can only rock and fidget in my seat for so long before someone notices and calls my credibility into question.

I don’t even make it to the aisle before Harper is on her feet, clapping. “Go, Riley! Bravo!”

As if it wasn’t bad enough to be the only one in this group old enough to grow a proper beard, I’m the only one who brought a one-woman cheer squad.

My cheeks burn as I make my way up to the judge. But do you know what they also do? They fucking hurt from how hard I’m smiling. And I could give two-shits about this entire process.I could give even less about saying,My name is Riley and I’m officially a licensed attorney.

I’m smiling so fucking hard because now I know what it’s like to have someone proud of me. And I’m smiling extra hard because it’s Harper.

“Move to your right. I want to get more of the courthouse behind you.”

I take a step to the side, but Harper lowers the phone.

“What?” I exclaim. “I moved.”

“The sign is crooked,” she points out, using her free hand to make a lifting motion.

Looking over the posterboard, I shake my head at what’s written on it.

ADMITTED TO THE BAR ASSOCIATION

Harper stamps her foot. “Please?”

“Is this what you put Lucas through every year on his first day of school?” I do my best to level the sign.

“And last,” Harper corrects me. “He’s usually a hair more cooperative, but not by much. Come on, one more.”

“Hey, man, congrats,” a stranger tells me as he makes his way up the stairs. “Took the bar twice and never passed.”

Harper beams.

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