Her lips linger on mine, and then her tongue slips inside and mingles with mine for a second, just enough to tease. “That can be done. I’ll go open a bottle.”
She pulls away. The absence of her body leaves me with a cold feeling of abandonment, the same one my parents left that I’ve been chasing to replace for years.
When will it ever be my turn to feel completely loved for who I am? Not defined by my success or my bank account. I know it’s not Jessie’s fault that we’re in this predicament, but it still hurts nonetheless.
I pull out the dinner that Mrs. M left in the oven. Steak and potatoes with a salad in the fridge.
“Okay, here we go.” Jessie hands me a glass of wine, filled to the rim.
I look down at the glass, then back at her. “You trying to get me drunk?”
“Nah, I don’t need you drunk to get what I want from you,” she says with a wink.
I laugh, and for the first time since Bradly walked into my office, I can breathe a little easier. “I can’t argue with that.”
We place our glasses on the dinner table and get our plates ready. Mrs. M seems to always cook for two. I never told her I’dbe feeding another adult each night. It’s strange, her picking up on something I never told her.
“How was your day?” I ask as I cut into the juicy steak.
She ponders over my question as she chews. “In comparison to how bad it could be, it was pretty good.”
I turn my head to the side as I study her. “Do you often have awful days?”
“It’s hit or miss. Depends on if my cases are going as planned. If they’re not, if I have to hand a child back to an abusive parent because of the legal system”—her eyes turn down—“those days are the worst.”
“Jessie,” I say more sharply than I meant to, “you know that’s not your fault. Do you hear me? Not even a little. That’s on the system, not on you.”
She shrugs her shoulders, not seeming convinced by my words. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”
I nod my head in understanding. “You’re incredible—you know that? These kids are lucky to have someone like you fighting for them.”
A twinge of jealousy hits me in the gut. She’s doing exactly what she wanted to do. Me? I’m a traitor to the highest degree. I wanted to fight power and corruption; instead, I’m adding to it. Acknowledging the truth leaves a bitter taste in my mouth—the taste of shame.
It remains with me throughout the rest of dinner and while I put Eli to sleep.
I walk back into the family room, where Jessie is now cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and the remote. I fall down next to her, then rest my hand behind my head as my legs sprawl out.
I feel her eyes on me while I watch the show she has on in the background.
“Can we talk about it now?” she asks hesitantly.
I look over at her. “Talk about what?”
“What happened at work today. Whatever has you acting so weird tonight.”
I let out a long sigh, the weight of the day pressing heavier on me. This isn’t the conversation I wanted to have tonight, but there’s no escaping it now.
“It’s just a partner at my firm, the one who got the pharmaceutical case; he was talking to colleagues of mine about how I haven’t been a very good partner, leaving early the last couple of weeks. My assistant overheard him.”
She looks at me without much of an expression. “He sounds like a prick.”
I nod my head. “Yep. That’s Pierce for you. A prick.”
“So,” she continues, “who cares what he says? As long as Decker and Maxfield understand, then it doesn’t matter.”
My eyes shift down to my lap, where I pick off an imaginary piece of lint from my sweatpants. “I haven’t told them about Eli yet.”
The stillness in the room feels sharp, Jessie’s quiet eyes saying everything I’m too much of a coward to admit.
