Page 54 of About That One Night
“See you soon, Lora.” I end the call and lean back into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.
Rising from the couch, I move to the fridge and grab a bottle of cold water, taking a long swig. As Ilower the bottle, I catch sight of the magnetic calendar stuck to the door, tomorrow’s date circled in red. My meeting with the life coach is in the morning. Do I still need it? I kind of know what I’m doing with my life and how to get this started.
I can always move it to another day, or replace it with a real estate agent who can help me find a place where I can set up the offices of Harper Law. That has a ring to it, doesn’t it?
Well, it doesn’t matter what I decide to do, I need to focus on the next case and then I’ll figure out next steps.
With a resigned sigh, I head to the kitchen and start brewing a pot of coffee. The aroma of freshly ground beans fills the air, offering a small comfort. As the coffee brews, I rummage through the pantry for something to eat, settling on a granola bar. It’s not much, but it will have to do.
I take my makeshift meal to the bathroom and start the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. Stripping off my clothes, I step under the warm spray, letting it wash away the fatigue and stress clinging to me. As the water cascades down, I try to shake off the feeling of dread creeping up on me.
The reality of my situation settles in: I’m back in Boston, already pulled into work, and facing major life changes. As I rinse off, I steel myself for the challenges ahead, determined to make my dreams a reality, no matter how daunting they may seem.
Why did I agree to take on the Endicott file? Oh, right, because I have a terrible habit of saying yes toeverything. Well, it doesn’t matter why. It’s time to get to work.
After a quick shower, I towel off and put on a comfortable yet professional outfit. I gather my laptop and everything I need to pick up the files at the office, making a mental note to ensure that any time I put into this week is billed—and goes toward my monthly bonus.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I step out of my apartment and head to the office.
The moment I push through the revolving doors of Hoffman, Roger & Associates, I’m enveloped in an atmosphere of power and prestige. Gleaming glass and polished steel stretch skyward, the building’s sleek exterior a perfect prelude to what awaits inside.
I step into the lobby, my heels clicking against imported Italian marble floors that definitely cost more than my annual salary. The space exudes quiet sophistication, with modern art pieces adorning the walls and a water feature that whispers gentle ambient noise.
At the center of it all stands a massive reception desk, its surface a slab of gleaming onyx. Behind it, a perfectly coiffed receptionist gives me a practiced nod. I return a polite smile, trying not to feel like I want to quit and live the rest of my life in Fiji.
As I make my way to the elevator bank, I catch a whiff of expensive cologne and freshly brewed artisanal coffee. The firm spares no expense, not even for the morning caffeine fix. I step into the elevator, its mirrored interior reflecting my slightly tired expression back at me. “I feel you, girl,” I tell myself. “Ineed another two days of sleep, but . . . let’s just get to work.”
Taking a deep breath, I press the button for my floor, ready to dive back into the world of billable hours and legal jargon.
I unlock the door to my office and step inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh paper welcoming me. My desk is already piled with documents, and the Endicott file sits ominously at the top. I set my bag down and power up my computer.
Before I start, I make sure Lora knows I’m here. If I’m going to give up my vacation time, it’s going to count. With everything in order, I take a deep breath and open the file, my mind shifting gears from the serene beaches of Fiji to the cold, hard reality of corporate law.
As I dive into the work, I can’t help but daydream about what my life coach would say—ifI had gone to my first appointment. Probably something about setting boundaries and prioritizing my own needs. Maybe someday I’ll actually follow that advice. Will I even be able to quit my job?
Instead of grabbing the files, I choose to stay at the office so I can get this done faster.
Bad idea.
Hours pass in a blur of legal documents and caffeine. I glance at the clock—nearly midnight already. The pizza box that’s been my source of nourishment since lunch is empty, and I’m out of granola bars. The sensible choice would be to pack it in and start fresh in the morning, but I’m too wired now, my mind racing with all the things left to do.
As I stare at the mountain of work still ahead, I can’t help but wonder how long I can keep working myself to the bone for some wealthy man who wants to take over a company and destroy it.
Coffee. I need coffee.
I pad into the corporate kitchen and approach the state-of-the-art coffee machine. After fumbling with a few buttons, it whirs to life. As I wait, I catch a glimpse of my reflection on the machine. Tired eyes stare back at me, dark circles hinting at my exhaustion.
I brush my fingers over the delicate skin there, remembering how Max traced the same path almost a week ago. It feels like only last night and forever since we were together. Thinking about him upsets me. Seriously, why do I feel these ghost pains when it comes to Max? It’s like I lost a limb or something. I don’t even know why though. The guy is nothing to me.
Nothing.
The coffee machine finishes its cycle, and my mug is now filled with dark, steaming goodness. I yawn but head back to my desk, determined to push through the fatigue.
As I settle back into work, I take a sip of coffee and refocus. There’s still a lot to do, even when I have nothing else to prove. In fact, by next month I’ll be handing in my resignation and starting my future.
Goodbye long hours and hello . . . Well, I don’t even know what my workload is going to look like but hopefully it’ll be a lot different than this one.
Chapter Thirty-Three
