She rests her forearms on the arms of the chair, just as our waiter returns with our wine.
We pause while I taste the wine. It’s zesty and rich flavour resting perfectly on my tongue. I nod, and we wait while our waiter fills our glasses, placing it in the cooler next to the table.
Michelle lifts hers and holds it forward.
“To old friends.”
Our glasses sing as they chink together, and we both take a sip.
“You were going to say?” I say, placing my glass on the table.
Michelle smiles, but it is followed by a scowl.
“My firm is tied up in the Simone Asher case. It seems her murder was the tip of a very large iceberg.”
I nod. Sir Leonard Crawley may be dead, but he was not working alone in his sick and twisted world. The files uncovered implicated many unsavoury people involved in numerous nefarious crimes.
“Do you think you can win?”
“You know I can’t talk about it.”
I shrug.
“I hope you nail the bastards,” I say, earning myself a smile.
“Me too.”
“So why are we really here?”
I drop back and steeple my fingers.
Michelle grins. “There’s only one woman I know of who can send Jaxson Lockwood into a tailspin.”
“Am I that obvious?” I say, grimacing. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Michelle reaches over and pats my arm. “We’re friends first and foremost. Although I never complained about the benefits.”
Michelle is one of the few women who know about Kat. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s why we’re here. When we worked together, Cal left to go home. We carried on drinking, and during that evening shared our pasts, among other things. She doesn’t know who, but knows there was a woman. The same way, I know she lost the love of her life.
“Is she back?”
“It’s complicated,” I mumble.
Michelle laughs, the sound warm and gentle. “When isn’t life? It doesn’t mean you should give up.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Ah, but my situation is different,” she says, with a weary smile.
Michelle fell in love with her ex-fiancé’s father. Messy doesn’t come close.
“Don’t try to distract me. I’m a lawyer, it won’t work. What happened?”
I fill her in on some of the details. Michelle’s hand comes across the table and pats mine.
“It sounds to me like there’s hope, and remember where there’s hope?—”
I groan. “Don’t say it.”
