Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“So this is a proper date,” I muse.
He nods and says, “Don’t you think so? Or would you have rather gone to Fore Street?”
I shake my head adamantly. Not just because this is a beautiful view, but because that restaurant is a favorite of my co-workers. If anyone saw us there, it would be all over Foster & Foster by morning. Most of them already don’t like me, so I can just imagine what the rumors will be when they see us together.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, as if reading my mind.
“Easy for you to say. Everyone loves you. If anything negative is to be said, it will be on me.” I raise the pitch of my voice, impersonating them. “She made him give up the promotion. She insisted he bend over and take it. She knows she’s not nearly as good as him. It’s all her fault.”
He gazes at me. “Are you kidding? First of all, I never cared what any of the people in the office said. And secondly, you’re twice as good an attorney as I’ll ever be.”
“Oh, please,” I argue. “You’re—”
“No. Listen. Yeah, I wanted the promotion, sure. Mostly to prove to myself I wasn’t a complete fraud.”
I stare at him in shock. “What?”
He nods. “I think that goes with the territory of being abandoned as a kid. It doesn’t really matter how high you soar—it’s never enough. You never get over the fact that the person who was supposed to love you most… left.”
I nod sadly. I know that feeling. So deeply, I feel a stab of pain in my chest for him. I put a hand on his and squeeze it. “You are not a fraud. Everything in your life, all the things you’ve done… how can you think that?”
He shrugs.
“If anything, I’m the fraud. I’ve always had imposter syndrome, like I needed to prove myself. You know the first thing that happened to me when I stepped inside my very first law classroom? I cried.”
He looks at me. “You cried?”
“Yes. The professor put me on the spot, and I couldn’t think, and I ran out, crying. After that, I thought I’d never be a lawyer. But then I talked to my mom, who told me something Ruth had told her—that it’s business. Women can’t be emotional in this business, or they will get torn apart. Strike first, my mother said. Put them on the defensive. So I buried my emotions. I steeled myself. I told myself I wouldn’t let anyone get too deep inside me to see that weakness. That’s why no one likes me at the firm. I’ve been so devoted to getting that partnership at any cost… I guess I forgot… like you said. Tact.”
He gives me a small smile. “I was wrong to say that. You wouldn’t have won so many cases if you couldn’t win the judge. I was just envious over your record. And how you’re always so perfect and right.”
“Of me? I hated how everyone loved you. The partners love you most, you know. I was sure they were going to give you the promotion,” I say. “Are you sure you—"
“Absolutely. Look. I had it in my head I’d be able to afford a better life for Jace. But I realize that what he needs right now isn’t a bigger bedroom or for his uncle to be some big, high-powered partner at a law firm. He doesn’t give a shit about that. What he needs is more time with me.”
I stare into his eyes, wondering if that could be true. He’d seemed too ruthless before, so wholly devoted to getting that partnership, whatever the cost. I remember those words he’d said to me as we left Lisa’s office. Good luck. You’re going to need it.
“Really?” I squeak out.
He nods. “That partnership… it’s just not the ideal time. Besides, I love working at Foster & Foster, doing what I’m doing. It might not be a lot of money, but you know what? There are other things more important than that. It’s a good firm. I’m happy there. They like me. It’s… all right.”
All right. But not ideal.
In that moment, I can see it so clearly.
He wants more. He wants his chance. But he’s letting me have this one.
“You know, you’re a lot nicer a person than I thought, Mr. Brooks Gentry,” I say, kissing his cheek. “Mr. Stranger88, Esquire.”
His arm is around my shoulder, but he shifts slightly so he can dig into the picnic basket. Then he pulls out a white container, sets it on his lap, and pulls off the lid. He holds something up to my lips and I smile against it before taking a bite.
Strawberries.
34
Turns out, the picnic wasn’t strictly necessary. We don’t do much eating on our date, save for the strawberries.