Page 51 of Atlas
“You weren’t too concerned about that when you called Axel for help.”
“He owed me then. It was one favour.” I stand. “Thanks for everything. I’ll have Kasey cut your hair soon, I promise.”
He stands too. “I kissed Anita,” he blurts, and I inhale sharply. “Or she kissed me,” he mutters, with a shrug, “I’m not sure.”
I recover quickly and laugh. “So?”
“I wanted to be honest.”
“There really is no need.” I take a breath. “Look, maybe I let myself get carried away for a minute and—”
“It felt right, didn’t it?” he asks, cutting me off.
“What did?”
His finger hooks around mine, and he steps closer. “The other night . . . that kiss.”
My mouth opens and closes, lost for words again. “You’ve just come out of a relationship,” I try.
“Just give us a chance.”
“I think you need to work out whatever unfinished busin—” He kisses me, cutting off my words and stealing my breath as his hands cup either side of my head and his lips caress my own.
He pulls back. “Me and Anita are finished. It’s you I’m interested in.”
“Awww.” We both look to find Jen staring at us with a smile. “You guys are too sweet.”
He throws a twenty on the counter and slips his hand in mine before leading me from the shop and back out into the street. “Say you’ll go on a third date with me?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You want me to beg?” he asks, glancing around and starting to bend at one knee.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Okay, okay, I’ll go on another date with you.”
He grins. “That’s all I’m asking for . . . for now.”
Anita
Rejection feels like a slap to the face, but the kind you didn’t see coming. It’s the sudden realisation that the person you thought was a sure thing, your safe place, your answer, isn’t even looking in your direction anymore. It hits hard, deep in your chest, a stinging ache that spreads outward. There’s a hollowemptiness that settles in your stomach, like you've been knocked out of orbit and you weren’t prepared for the fall.
I rub my temples, pushing the thought of Atlas aside, desperate to focus on the task at hand. As much as I want to avoid it, the custody battle looms, and I need to find a way to fight.
A soft tap on the courtroom door breaks my concentration. Before I can respond, it swings open and Tom’s head pops in, eyes locking with mine.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, his tone more teasing than concerned.
I force a smile, gathering the scattered papers in front of me and folding them neatly. “I have to get these to the clerk before five.”
He steps inside, confident, leaning casually against the wall. I can’t help but notice how effortlessly he exudes authority. He might be a lawyer, but he could easily be mistaken for a mafia boss in that tailored suit.
“Y’know, I’ve branched out into family law,” he says, flashing a grin that’s crooked enough to suggest trouble.
I glance up, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.”
He shrugs, unbothered by the casual dismissal. “And a little birdie told me you’re . . . in a bit of a situation.”
I freeze for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of the stack of legal documents between us. The papers, usually so professional and cold, now feel like a weight on my shoulders. I glance up at him, my gaze lingering just a second too long. “Oh?”
