Legal Affairs - Affirmation: Legal Affairs Serial Romance, Page 3

  “Enough, Mac,” he says, his voice getting louder as he steps around the desk toward me.

  “He was really, really drunk… on the verge of passing out. In fact, he thinks he did pass out for a little bit, but when he came too—”

  “Get the fuck out,” Matt yells at me. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  I sidestep around the other side of his desk to buy myself time. “Tough titties, you chicken shit pansy. You’re going to listen. Cal sort of woke up, and Marissa was in bed with him… giving him a blow job. He tried to push her off at first, but he admits… he didn’t try hard. He was drunk and didn’t have much control. She climbed on top of him, Matt. He let it happen, for a while. Then he came to his senses a bit and stopped it. I mean, the act had still been done… but he stopped it.”

  I expect Matt to yell at me again or advance on me further, but he just closes his eyes as if he’s in pain and his head hangs down low. I keep going before he tries to stop me again.

  “If you’re honest with yourself, Matt, you know it’s true. He didn’t make the move. Otherwise, why would he have been the one to confess it to you? He came to you to let you know, and you never even gave him a chance to explain. You beat the crap out of him and kicked him out of your life, without even giving him a chance.”

  Matt turns away from me, walking back behind his desk. I decide to let him hear the last of my mind, and then it’s over.

  “I’m not justifying what he did, Matt. Cal doesn’t try to do that either. He was wrong, and he knows it. But he did not instigate it and, although he was weak at first, he did stop it. But you already know that’s true, because I understand Marissa wasn’t stingy with her charms.”

  Out of breath and out of stamina, I watch Matt as he stares out the window over downtown Manhattan. His shoulders are hunched, and he looks defeated.

  I turn and walk to the door, but before I leave, I swing back around. “I only told you this, Matt, because your pain and bitterness are holding you back. I only wanted to show you that it might be a little easier to forgive Cal than you originally thought. Carrying that bitterness is not good. It’s already turned you into someone that is destined to lead a lonely life, because you can’t let it go. That’s fine… that’s your choice. But remember this… you teach Gabe by example. What is he learning from watching you? What are you teaching him about love and forgiveness?”

  Matt doesn’t respond. He just stares out the window, and it’s clear he has nothing to say. Unfortunately, neither do I. I said my piece, and it’s time to move on.

  Opening the door, I walk out, hoping that Macy is at home with a huge carton of ice cream for me. I’m feeling a massive, crying meltdown coming on.

  I’m slogging through every workday at Connover and Crown, and it’s getting harder and harder to get through it because I’m depressed. I watch the clock constantly, waiting for it to be 5:30 PM so I can go home. I don’t work late at the office anymore, preferring to work from home instead.

  Anything to avoid seeing Matt.

  It’s been a week since we broke up. This past weekend was brutal. I spent countless hours obsessing over whether I did the right thing, or if I should have given Matt more time and patience. Now I obsess over whether I have already been replaced by another numerical match through One Night Only. I pull my phone out time and again with the intent to call him, or even to send a short text, just to see how he’s doing.

  But my common sense always prevails. I’m no dummy, and I’m not one to keep attempting the futile. My gut tells me that Matt doesn’t have it in him for anything further, and it’s time for me to move on.

  The only way I know this is affecting Matt is because I’m getting daily ratings from Bea. She always greets me each morning with a Matt Report, and he hasn’t dropped below a ten since we parted ways. I know this should give me some comfort, but it doesn’t. Matt’s not missing me. He’s just missing the convenient and stellar sex. I’ve heard lack of those things will make men grumpy.

  Fortuitously, Matt had been out of the office a great deal this week with court hearings, and I didn’t really need his help on any of my stuff. We both were doing a great job of avoiding the other, and I was starting to believe that this might actually be workable. I’m sure with time, my hurt feelings and his surliness would just naturally ease, and then maybe we could have at least a polite working relationship. I mean, I might have some major issues with Matt, but I really love the type of work I’m doing for him.

  Today, however, Matt makes it clear to me that there’s no room for a polite working relationship between the two of us. There is an email waiting for me as soon as I get in. It reads:

  Mac,

  In an effort to help with the burgeoning increase in complex business cases, you are being transferred into that division under the general supervision of Bill Crown. Obviously, you will still work on the Jackson case since the clients are attached to you, but John Casting will act as your co-counsel and immediate supervisor. You can direct any and all questions to him. Finally, with the addition of Kylie Wynn to the Pearson appeal, I will not need your help on that case further.

  I wish you the best of luck with these new endeavors, and I’m sure you’ll be a successful member of the complex business litigation team.

  Sincerely,

  Matthew Connover

  Is he fucking kidding me?

  Is he mother fucking kidding me?

  He sends me a formal email telling me that I’m no longer going to be doing injury litigation, which is what I love doing? He’s transferring me to the hell of business law? And more than that, he “wishes me the best of luck”?

  What a fucking asshole coward.

  I wait for the anger to well up further and overtake me, but it never gets above a low simmer. In fact, I feel sort of a cool calmness. I suppose the fact I have been telling myself over and over again that there is no hope of a relationship with Matt has led me to believe, deep down inside, that it would be impossible to go backward to just an employer/employee relationship.

  There is no second-guessing, and I don’t have even an ounce of doubt over my next actions.

  I pull up a blank Word document, and I start typing.

  When I’m finished, I print it, sign it, and put it in an envelope. I handwrite the words “Matthew Connover” and place it in my outbox. A gopher boy comes around several times a day and takes all the stuff from the attorneys’ outboxes and distributes it. Matt will get my notice sometime soon, but I don’t give it another thought.

  Instead, I pick up the phone and call Cal. He knows Matt and I broke up, and we’ve talked a few times. He’s been a very good friend to me and provided me with an open ear. He’s not been judgmental, and he’s been strangely quiet as to taking my side over Matt’s or vice versa. I invite him for lunch the following day, and we make plans to meet in the cafeteria that’s in our building.

  I lose myself in the Jackson case, writing up a detailed summary memorandum of it so I can give it to Cal. His help is going to be instrumental to me.

  The details of the memorandum are so engrossing that I don’t even realize there is someone standing in my office doorway until he clears his throat.

  It’s Matt, and he’s holding my letter of resignation in his hand.

  Without invitation, he walks in, closes the door, and takes a seat. He throws the envelope on my desk. “What the hell is this?”

  “Come on, Matt. You know what it is.” My voice is gentle, without harshness or even bitter feelings. It doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t there, but I’m choosing not to bring them into this. I want to keep this professional.

  “You’re resigning?” he asks, as if he can’t believe what my letter says.

  “Yes. I’ll give you two weeks’ notice or, if you want me to leave immediately, I’ll do that. I’m taking the Jackson case with me though, so please don’t think about fighting me on that. My clients won’t stay here if I’m not involved.”

  Matt looks at me w
ith exasperation and waves an impatient hand at me. “I don’t give a fuck if you take that case. I just can’t believe you’d quit. I mean… I moved you out of my section so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. I thought it would give you want you wanted.”

  Cocking my head, I try to gauge what Matt is really feeling. He looks agitated and nervous. He looks confused… lost. I’m not sure what it means, but none of it changes my decision to leave.

  “I’m sorry. I appreciate you trying to make my work environment easier. It’s just… it’s just too hard for me to be here. Too many memories. Some right in this office,” I say with a little smile, and I’m surprised when Matt even smiles a little over my reference to the times we’d gotten down and dirty in here.

  “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” he asks. His eyes peer hard into mine, trying to determine if there is a loophole he can work his way inside of.

  If he could really read my thoughts, he’d see that my heart is screaming, Yes. You can tell me you’ve made a huge mistake—that you miss me, love me, and you’ll die without me.

  But that’s too much wishful thinking. So I say, “I’m sorry. This is for the best.”

  He stares at me for a long moment. I can practically see the wheels and cogs spinning in his brain. But then I see the moment when resignation takes over his face, and he accepts what I say. “All right then. I’ll accept your resignation, and I’ll take the two weeks’ notice. That’s very professional of you to offer that. Since you’ll only be here two more weeks, obviously I won’t be transferring you over to Bill. You can help me wind up some stuff.”

  “Okay,” I tell him, not sure if I’m relieved or sad that he didn’t beg me to stay. “Sounds like a game plan.”

  “You resigned?” Cal asks with astonishment as we move through the cafeteria line. He pulls a turkey sub onto his tray, and I make a grab for one of the last Caesar salads left.

  “Yup,” I tell him, also grabbing a cupcake. I think I’m entitled since I’m eating rabbit food for lunch.

  When we get to the cash register I open my wallet, but Cal beats me to it by handing his credit card over to the cashier.

  “Hey,” I say in exasperation. “I’m supposed to be buying. I invited you.”

  Cal glares at me, and I close my wallet. “I’m buying because you’re getting ready to be a poor, unemployed lawyer. You need to be saving your money.”

  We take our food and easily find an empty table. The lunch rush is starting to wane, but that’s because we didn’t get here until about 1:30 PM because Cal was running late. The crowded nature of this cafeteria is one of the reasons I try to avoid it. Yes, it’s super convenient having it in our building, but I hate having to battle for a table.

  We sit down, and I pull my cupcake toward me. I love eating my dessert first, although, sometimes I feel self-conscious about it. I don’t feel that way with Cal, which is again a testament to what a good friend he’s become to me.

  “I can’t believe you just quit,” he mutters. “You know the job market sucks out there for attorneys right now.”

  “I know. But I have an idea.”

  Raising his eyebrows at me, Cal takes a bite of his sub and waits for me to explain.

  Licking a chunk of frosting off my finger, I say, “I’m going to open my own firm. And I want you to be my partner.”

  Cal pauses chewing and just stares at me. I hold his stare, so he knows I’m not kidding. He quickly swallows his food and wipes his mouth. Pushing his sandwich aside, he leans across the table toward me. “Are you serious?”

  Okay, at least his tone isn’t mocking me but he is in disbelief, so I need to convince him. “Yes. My mom was well insured when she died. I’m willing to put some of that money into opening up my own firm. And you are always telling me how you want to switch from doing defense work to plaintiff’s work. So, now is your chance. Plus, I have a really huge case, and I need help with it. If we win it, it will be worth millions. And if we lose it… well, I’ll need someone’s shoulder to cry on.”

  Cal takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, his lunch completely forgotten. “Let’s say I even entertain this idea. When would you want to do this?”

  “In two weeks… I’m ready to start as soon as I leave Connover and Crown.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Cal mutters, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “This case you’re talking about… tell me about it.”

  I do one even better. I hand over the typed memorandum and eat my cupcake while he reads it. When he’s done, he looks up. “Well, the good news is, if I were to help you on this, at least my firm doesn’t represent this particular insurance company so there would be no conflict of interest for me to be involved in this case.”

  Laying the memorandum down, he reaches over and picks his sub back up. “There’s a lot to consider. I mean, what type of firm would we have, where would we locate it, what do we need to do to go about setting it up? I mean… we need bank accounts, office space, equipment…”

  Reaching down into my briefcase, I calmly hand over a thick document that I stayed up all night working on. The cover says, “Business Plan, Carson and Dawson, LLC”.

  Cal glances down at it, and his eyes widen in disbelief. “You got to be kidding me. When did you do this?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “It’s just a little something I whipped up last night.”

  Giving a huge bark of laughter, Cal sets his sub back down again and picks up the business plan. He starts reading it and, because it will take a while, I go ahead and get to work on my salad.

  I amuse myself by people watching, but amusement turns to sadness when I see Matt walk in… with Kylie Wynn right behind him. She’s talking animatedly toward him, and yup… there goes the classic laying of her hand on his arm. Apparently, that move never gets old for her.

  After they pay for their meals, which I take a small measure of glee in noting that they paid separately, I watch as Matt scans the room, looking for an open table. His eyes pass over Cal and me, not giving much of a glance since our table isn’t empty.

  But then his eyes snap back to me, and our gazes lock.

  We stare at each other a moment and, for just a brief time, it’s like nothing bad ever happened between us. There is still a palpable connection, and our eyes hold all of those secrets. But then Matt’s gaze flicks over to Cal, and his face hardens a tiny bit.

  I expect Matt to try to find a table as far away from us as he can, but he surprises me when he walks over to us. When he’s only a few feet away, I kick Cal under the table. He looks at me, and I nod over his shoulder so he knows someone is approaching.

  Cal turns slightly and sees Matt and Kylie.

  “Matt,” Cal says with a nod of his head.

  Matt is ever polite, because he has to be since he and Cal deal with each other in the professional world. Matt nods back and introduces Kylie. While Cal makes small talk with Kylie for a few moments, I see Matt’s eyes glance down at the business plan I had just handed Cal. He sees the words Carson and Dawson, LLC clear as day. I watch his face carefully so I can gauge how this will affect him. I mean, it’s truly none of his business, but I imagine this would piss him off royally.

  He does nothing more than bring his eyes up to mine though. They look sad for just a flash, and then he gives me a small smile.

  I’m not sure if that is approval or just general acceptance, but he didn’t react the way I expected him to.

  After some quick goodbyes, Matt and Kylie seek out their own table and Cal and I return to talking about logistics.

  Matt and I are flying back to New York from Atlanta. He had me, once again, attend some depositions with him so I could take notes, while he meticulously picked apart witness after witness. He sprung this trip on me at the beginning of the week, telling me three of the last four days of my employment would be spent with him in the Peach State on a medical malpractice case.

  We just finished a long day of depositions and made it to the air
port with a little bit of time to spare before we boarded the eight PM flight into JFK.

  I’m not angry to be here. In fact, it gave me another few days to observe the legal brilliance of Matthew Connover. And yes, I got to observe the hotness of him, too, which is always nice, although it made me a little nostalgic. Just looking at Matt in a custom-made, tailored suit was worth the trip.

  While leaving his firm is truly the best decision for my own peace of mind, I am going to miss being able to see his gorgeous face.

  And that magnificent body.

  And that brilliant mind.

  And fuck, that just makes me sad, but it is what it is.

  Matt has been strange since I gave my notice. I expected him to be cold and aloof. Rather, he treats me with the utmost respect, and I even see flashes of his easygoing humor. Sometimes, there will be brief moments when we are talking about a case, and I will forget how badly I’m hurting. I can see he forgets it too, because sometimes I see warmth in his eyes. Sometimes, I’ve even seen lust, which affects me on a whole other level I’d rather not think about. It doesn’t help that I have dirty dreams of him almost every night, and my poor vibrator is just not measuring up.

  While we were in Atlanta, he was very professional. We worked each day together, spending seven to eight hours straight in depositions. We usually had dinner together at night in the hotel restaurant, where we would continue to work… going over my notes for the day and strategizing on how to best attack the next day’s deponents. We would say goodnight in the elevator, and we both went to sleep alone.

  It was truly the employer-employee relationship we should have had all along.

  But I’m not gonna lie… it was extremely unsatisfying, knowing what I used to have.

  Now, as wait for our flight to board, there is no work to prepare for the next day so we have to rely on general conversation to get us through. I’m nervous, because so far, Matt and I have been able to get along by keeping things on a professional level. I’m trying to think of something interesting to say when Matt takes the lead.