Page 74 of Love Is an Art
Up on the firm’s roof terrace, a few other employees are hanging out, smoking or enjoying a coffee in peace. I call Tessa back.
“I’m calling because Brooke left me a message about a potential internal investigation with you, and I wasn’t sure,” she says. “Well, I thought you probably don’t want to work together, so I should tell her that I’m too busy.”
I stare at the towering buildings of midtown, all clustered together, and the open, blue sky. So many buildings crowd the city, but it also feels empty up here because so few people are visible. It’s such a different view from my brownstone rooftop. There, it’s all the flat, horizontal roofs of buildings at the same height as mine—some with terraces or chairs. There are so many facets to this city. So many different viewpoints. And if not for my history with Paisley, I might have been able to brush off the artist lie.
“Do you think we can work together as work colleagues?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says.
Huh. She’s kidding herself. She leaned in for a kiss when I held her. And I wanted to pull her in and kiss her senseless. And feel her melt against me again.
“You’re not too busy?” I ask. “Bartending?”
Tessa clears her throat. “No. Although I do sometimes bartend when Miranda can’t pick up her shift if I have time. And now that I’m only working on one litigation other than my pro bono case, I am seeking work. And it will look bad for me if I don’t get your next case, if the partnership finds out.”
It will look bad for her. I should definitely tell Brooke we can’t use her.
But that’s also a big admission. She’s basically telling me, “Here’s your chance for revenge.”
“I understand if you don’t want to work together,” I say. “Brooke seems to think you have some expertise in this area. You have to make a presentation, obviously, but I think we’re grown-ups.” There’s no way I’m going to come off as the weak, hurt party in this. I mean, I am the hurt party. But for sure, I can act like we’re strangers. If she thinks we can be work colleagues. I’m over her.
Or I’m not over her, and I’m a fool who wants to spend more time with her. In a safe, protected setting.
I’m a fool, aren’t I?
I better tell Brooke we also need some other firms to pitch. It would be much better if I worked with someone else.
Chapter twenty-three
Tessa
Ismoothdownmyskirt as Paul and I wait to pitch for the Comidas en Canasta investigation in the Capital Management conference room. The room is small, with a white table, brown, modern chairs, and a view of midtown buildings. On the wall is a photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. But a very different view from what we saw on our date biking across it.
Please, Zeke, don’t be setting me up for failure as some sort of revenge.
What a stupid move to admit that it would look bad for me.
Way to fail Life Lesson #1: Don’t reveal your vulnerabilities to guys, especially those who may wish you harm.
It’s not like Iwantto work with Zeke.I’m not over him.I’m afraid I’ll reveal that. I still want us to get back together. It’s silly because it was only three dates. And I know, more than anyone, not to date someone who doesn’t like lawyers or respect the hours I work.
But I do love internal investigations. Uncovering corruption makes me feel like I’m on the side of the good guy.
Zeke enters the room with Brooke, and my stomach flutters. He looks good in a suit. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him in person. And my memory didn’t do him justice. I was hoping my memory was exaggerating—that I wouldn’t find him as attractive as I remembered. He doesn’t look at me. I can’t stop staring at him. Hungrily. And my stomach is doing those little flips. I shake my head and shuffle my papers.
He’s a client.
Focus. This iscritical.
Paul stands, as do I.
“Great to see you again. We were very impressed with your work on our last case together,” Brooke says. Her glance is close, more inquisitive than normal. As if she knows.
No way. Zeke would never confess to her that we dated.
They take their seats across the table. My PowerPoint is already up on the screen on the wall. I pick up the clicker and flash a glance at Zeke. Please let this be a real chance. Please don’t screw me over in front of Paul.
I walk through my experience on internal investigations and then click on the slide describing my plan for the investigation based on what we’ve received so far. Zeke is staring at me, stone-faced. Not a good sign.
