Page 26 of Legally Ours

Chapter 6

The next several days progressed similarly. While my injuries healed, I was alone, spending a few meals a day with Bubbe, but by myself in the empty apartment until night fell and sleep came. After a few days of watching everything on HBO (reading still made my head hurt), I was bored out of my mind.

Brandon was a ghost, leaving around sunrise each day for workouts with his trainer, and returning most nights after I was already asleep. He had one more nightmare, but woke before I could limp into the room. He met me with a look that was a cross between pain and desire, but then shook his head and asked me to leave. It felt like I was tearing myself in half, but I did what he wanted and stayed in my room.

By Friday, when I called Kieran to beg for some work files to be sent over––just to have something to do––she had given me another unequivocal "no" on the matter. When I'd argued I could prove I was fine by coming in, she had just snapped that no one needed to scare off clients with a face full of bruises. She had a point. Although the bruising had faded considerably, there were still several purple and yellowing spots, not to mention the angry scar over my eye.

In the end, Kieran agreed to allow me to work from home the following week, and said she'd bring over case files I needed to get started, as well as a laptop to attend meetings remotely. It wasn't the start I wanted to make at my new job, but I was grateful for the flexibility.

Jane had gone back to Chicago once it was clear I was going to be okay and was in the capable hands of Brandon and Bubbe. She had felt guilty that she couldn't stay, but I had insisted she go––there was no reason her career should suffer along with mine. Being a new lawyer was brutal under any conditions.

So it was to my surprise when the elevator rang open Saturday morning, and Jane walked in with a giant bouquet of flowers.

"Hey!" I greeted her from the couch, where I had my foot propped on a pillow. "What are you doing here?"

My best friend grinned as she dropped her messenger bag and the flowers on the foyer table and raced to sit next to me on the couch.

"Hey," she said with a quick embrace. The leather and silver bracelets stacked on her wrist clinked in my ear. Then she pushed me back to get a look at me. "It's my day off. I found a cheap flight. You look good, babe. Better. Less Night of the Living Dead. How are you feeling?"

"Better. I'm mostly off crutches, and the stitches fell out, so no more Franken-face."

Jane nodded, then released my shoulders. "Good. Are you off the Percocet? Because I brought mimosas."

She stood up and walked back to retrieve the bag she'd left in the foyer, then went to the kitchen to start making our drinks. I pushed myself up from the couch and limped into the kitchen to join her.

"Where's Richie Rich?" she asked, looking around the apartment.

I shrugged and held up a hand. "Who knows? He doesn't spend much time here these days."

Jane quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Wasn't the point of having you here so he could keep an eye on you?"

I shrugged. "I thought so...but I don't know. He has the security team for that––they have a whole office downstairs that monitors everyone who comes into the building. And he has Bubbe to cook and Ana to clean. He's been avoiding me."

I accepted a drink from Jane, and we went back to the couch to sit down.

"So how's the job?" I asked. I wasn't in a hurry to start talking about Brandon's and my standstill. Sometimes it felt like it was all I ever thought about.

Jane took a long drink of her mimosa, then poured another tot of champagne into the glass.

I watched. "That good, huh?"

She took another long drink, then smacked her lips. "It's...fine. Busy. Interesting. The hours are long enough that I don't have to answer my mother's phone calls."

"But..."

She didn't answer for a moment, then finally shrugged. "I miss it here," she admitted. "There, I said it."

"Just the city?" I wondered suggestively.

A few months ago, Jane and Eric, my other good friend and recent roommate, had restarted the fling they'd had during our first year of law school. I'd watched as it had turned progressively more serious over the summer, to the point where they'd even gone to Brandon's last political event together, the one that had turned so disastrous. Neither of them was willing to admit they were a couple, but it was obvious to me that was exactly what they were.

Jane gave me a dirty look. "Don't start on that." She sighed. "The truth? I'm not just here to see you."

"I see how it is," I teased. "My broken bones are just an excuse for your booty call."

"No, no," Jane said. "It's..." She sighed despondently. "I have to break up with him. Not that there's anything really to break off. But I have to do it."

"Oh." I held my glass and looked at my friend sadly. It had taken her a lot to admit she even liked Eric at all, and that wasn't very long ago. This was a massive step backward. "Can I ask why?"

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