the nature of reality
OliviaGrayhadneverbeen fond of legal conferences, but they were a necessary evil in her line of work. Earlier today, she’d attended a panel on supporting juror impartiality, with Judge Jaime Lachlan as the speaker. During her five-year tenure at Farkas, Ariete & Kemeny, one of the biggest law firms in the southeast, she’d clashed several times with thehonorableJudge Lachlan.
Olivia had one of the highest win rates in her firm, yet most of her losses had occurred in Judge Lachlan’s courtroom. The woman was infuriating—smart, detail-oriented, exacting (her grandma would have called her persnickety), unable to perceive any shade of gray, unimpressed by status or riches, and, most vexing, incredibly attractive.
Olivia tried not to be shallow, and to be honest, Lachlan’s pretty face alone would never be enough to make up for all the headaches she’d given Olivia in the courtroom, but well, she had eyes.
The talk had been informative, and one of the few Olivia didn’t fear nodding off during without constantly taking a sip of her coffee. At the end of each day, people met in the hotel’s bars and restaurants to network, and while Olivia had done her due diligence over the last two days, the thought of enduringanotherevening lost in schmoozing and talking shop set off a jackhammer rattling in her skull.
Instead, she left the hotel, sighing when cool, fresh air blew in her face. She headed down the busy street in search of a place to drink a glass of wine in peace and perhaps eat a little something. All the caffeine she’d consumed over the last few days had left her in a state of near constant agitation, making it hard to pick up a pen without her hand trembling. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes.I really shouldn’t be so tired.
After a ten-minute walk, she halted in front of a bar tucked in a corner between a bookshop and an art atelier. She opened the door and stepped inside, inundated by a woodsy smell intermingled with the scent of fried food reminding her of home. This would do nicely.
Her gaze trailed across the dimly lit room and its patrons—an eclectic mix of college students playing pool and darts in the back, and older generations sitting at the bar or congregating at the various booths and tables, deep in conversation or busy eating. An ideal place to get lost in. The low hum of music, something folksy, played in the background, more white noise than anything else, but it still added…something.
Olivia settled on a barstool, ordering a Merlot and fries—not really dinner or her usual combination, but it would hit the spot. She sipped her wine when she noticed an attractive dark-haired woman sitting at a corner table by herself, her head bent over a spread-out set of papers.
Olivia traced a finger over the glass’s rim, considering drawing closer. It had been a while since she’d permitted herself any kind of…distraction, not that it would be a sure bet, but she was sorely tempted.
She picked up her glass and nodded to the bartender to indicate where she was heading before striding to the corner table.
The woman wore dark-framed glasses, her long, glossy hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She neither noticed Olivia’s approach, nor how Olivia froze after a few steps upon realizing that the woman was none other than Judge Jaime Lachlan. Earlier in the day, her hair had been pulled into a tight bun, and she hadn’t been wearing glasses. Contacts, perhaps?
Olivia contemplated withdrawing but straightened instead.Nothing gained and whatnot.
“May I?” Olivia asked, one hand on the remaining empty chair.
Jaime looked up, and Olivia forced her shoulders to relax. She needed to act nonchalant, as if none of this mattered to her. It didn’t.
Jaime stared at her, blinking rapidly. “Yes, you may take the chair.”
“No, no. I just…” She gritted her teeth. The woman clearly didn’t recognize her, and why should she? Their last encounter in court hailed back half a year. “I’m asking if I may join you.”
Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She glanced around. “All right.”
A small smile flitted over Olivia’s lips, and her fingers tingled. She sat down, placing her wine in front of her.
Jaime eyed her expectantly while dread doused Olivia’s anticipation.What are you doing here?
“Was there something you wished to discuss, Counselor?” Jaime finally asked, leaning back in her chair.
Olivia swallowed her surprise and put on an easy smile. There was no way she’d admit to not having recognized Jaime at first or confess her original intentions: to sit down and flirt with a beautiful woman. Contemplating the smartest reply, Olivia cleared her throat. “Do you think anyone can be truly impartial?”
Jaime toyed with the pen in her hand. “No, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for it.”
“Spoken like a true judge.”
Jaime raised one manicured eyebrow.
Olivia didn’t understand how Jaime could still be so put together—even her makeup looked impeccable—while Olivia felt like a wrung-out washcloth after these last three days. Of course, looks could be deceiving. She didn’t look how she felt, and Olivia preferred it that way. Appearancesshouldbe deceiving, considering people’s tendency to take advantage of vulnerability. “Your professional goalisimpartiality, so it makes sense you’d believe that.”
Jaime hummed. “What doyoubelieve?”
Olivia drank from her glass, the mouth-drying liquid settling heavily on her tongue while she contemplated how to phrase her answer. “It’s a futile endeavor.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Olivia tilted her head. “We can never escape our biases, even when we believe we do. In fact, you could have the bias ofbeingunbiased.”
