“Lydia Cain?” Jaime blinked. “She’s on my docket.”
“Yes. That’s the problem.”
“I see.”
“So, I’m thinking, since it hasn’t started, and I’ve not looked at the paperwork or anything, we could just… There’s no conflict of interest.”
“Not yet.”
“Right. That’s why I think we should…maybe take a break?”
“Why?”
“Conflict of interest?” Olivia frowned.
Jaime waved her off. “No, I got that. Why bother with a break? Perhaps it’s a sign that our…association has run its course.”
“What?” Olivia’s stomach turned. “Are you serious?”
“We knew it would happen one day, and we were never serious. Just a bit of fun to pass the time.”
Olivia clenched her fists—her nails digging half-moon imprints into her palms. A million thoughts bombarded her, most in protest, some full of anger and insults, while a few urged her to storm out and cry.
None of the words made it to her vocal cords, though, so she just stood there, staring at Jaime, who seemed to tower in the middle of the room, still as a statue.
“So that’s it then?”
Jaime shrugged, a grimace flitting across her face. She ducked her head. “What other option is there?”
“A pause, like I suggested.”
“We’d just be deluding ourselves. This is easier.”
“For whom?”
Jaime’s head jerked up, and she found Olivia’s gaze. “For you,” she whispered. “This can never… I’m not what you need.”
Olivia inhaled sharply, then nodded, more to herself than anything. If she was honest with herself, her anxious fretting before the meeting showed she’d seen Jaime’s reaction coming on some level. Sadly, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. She straightened. “I think you should leave.”
Jaime flinched. “As you wish.” She hesitated for a split second before pivoting and leaving, closing the door behind her with a low thud.
Olivia gritted her teeth, clutching the remote control at the foot end of the bed and hurling it against the door.
“AsIwish? You clueless asshole,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands as she leaned forward. She’d not cry.
Olivia had cried, though she couldn’t quite tell if they were angry or sad tears, likely a miserable conglomeration that still clung to her like tar, even weeks after their acrimonious parting.
She sniffed, pulling Lily, her newest and, well, only niece, closer to her chest and smelling her tuft of curly black hair. Olivia hummed. Baby scent was calming.
Her boss had been quite unhappy when Olivia had informed her that she couldn’t take on the Cain case.
Her line of, “I have a personal history with Judge Lachlan, and I believe it’s in the best interest of everyone if I were to step away from the case,” had almost made Maria’s eyebrows fly off her forehead. Considering her boss’s approach to work, perhaps she couldn’t imagineeverfinding herself in such a position.
Olivia had struggled a little with what to do, both options had seemed equally terrible at first glance, but safeguarding her, well, both their professional reputations took precedent. Not to mention, she knew Jaime enough, and sitting in court day in and out facing the cool detachment of Judge Lachlan seemed utterly unbearable.
On the evening of the first day in court, Jaime had sent a text, asking: “Are you sick?” to which Olivia had replied, “No,” andthat had been it.
She hadn’t heard another word from Jaime in the following two weeks, nor had she contacted her either. Olivia had little pride in personal relationships—too often it wrecked what you wanted to keep—but she had enoughnotto run after someone who made it clear they weren’t interested. Olivia would beg no one to be in her life—either they wanted to or not. She’d survive either way.
