Hailey choked on a piece of ice, which was a good thing because it gave her brain a little time to catch up. “Two girls. Gigi and Mabel.” Why was she telling him their names?
“Ah yes, I remember. From the magazine article. Three is a magical age,” he said. “And actually, so is six. Nothing sweeter than a kindergartner.”
“Eight isn’t sweet?”
“It’s still pretty sweet. Ask me again when the twins are thirteen, though.” He laughed, and Hailey felt Rebekah’s presence looming over them like a specter.
He must have sensed it. “They’re in New York now, with my family.”
She tried not to make a mental note of this for the custody battle. It was just habit; therewasno custody battle anymore. She could be a human being. “You must miss them.”
He nodded. “I don’t like being away from them. They’ve had a hard time.”
Hailey and David Rainier were walking a fine line. As pleasant as he was to talk to, as nice as he was to look at, as much as Hailey sympathized withanyonewho had to spend even five minutes in a room with Rebekah, he wasn’t worth getting disbarred over. She couldn’t sit here and trash-talk her own client. This was still a divorce, even if it was delayed, and in two weeks he might be screaming at Rebekah about how even her own lawyer had called her a rapacious bitch and—worse—a terrible mother. She steered the chat into neutral waters.
They ordered a second round. He went for whiskey; something called a Midnight Haiku. Hailey ordered the Royal Highness, tropical again, but this one promised to be “smoky and spicy.” He was talking about spending two months traveling, trying to distract his kids from the divorce, trying to work at the same time. Telling her how he’d found some amazing places in Europe, out-of-the-way gems. How sexy the French countryside was, how he’d loved traveling with his children but sometimes you wanted a grown-up, especially one that wasn’t his ex-wife, which made them both laugh. Hailey countered, told him about her time in Europe as an undergrad, three months in Paris, but when she found herself cutting Mack out of the narrative, she realized that this could be edging toward inappropriate. She listened to a story about how David’s daughter was a pro at hailing a New York taxi, and then she took control.
“I might order some food. I didn’t have much lunch.” As soon as the waitress approached, Hailey asked for the most substantial thing she could find on the menu: a pulled pork sandwich that came with a pile of fries. Greasy, messy, stick-in-your-teeth food that would form a barrier against this strange flirtation. Then it was David Rainier’s turn to counter; he ordered a bottle of obscenely expensive red and a plate of meat and cheese. Hopefully he wasn’t trying to change the mood—probably he ate like a European playboy all the time. He certainly had the money for it. All she needed to do was to stay on track, to remember why she was here.
“So, David, now that we’ve had a few drinks, gotten to know each other a little, indulge me with a question.” The rum held her hand, made her bold.
“Shoot.”
“Are you planning to pay us, or is this just a long, slow fuck-you?”
He gave her a sheepish smile; there were those long lashes again, curling down on his face, something sweet and babylike about them. When he looked up, his eyes locked on Hailey’s.
“There’s nothing I’m better at than a long, slow fuck...” He smiled, wide and wicked, and then finally said, “you.”
Then he laughed and looked away. “Too much?”
Hailey took a sip of her fresh drink; it tasted like Tabasco and suntan lotion. “Just a touch. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Okay then. Yes, I do intend to pay you, Hailey Evans. It will break my cold dead heart to bail my wife out of this, but I will pay you. Please don’t spend any more time worrying about it. I’m sorry for the stress my hellhole of a marriage has caused. I never thought I’d be here, honestly. I’m a careful guy.”
Hailey felt the permanent painful tangle in her stomach loosen, felt oxygen reach muscle fibers that had been starved for weeks. It was going to be okay. He would pay. She could relax.
“I understand,” she told him. “No one gets married looking forward to the divorce. Or the—the breakdown of the relationship, in your case.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
“I’ll bet you’ve seen some things. It must wear on you, all that hatred people can have for each other.”
“You must’ve been in some difficult negotiations too. Those are some pretty epic real estate deals on your résumé.” Hailey had read about people being pushed out of their homes as David’s developments went in, about objections over wildlife and local character and an outsider swooping in, and yet it sounded like the man was unstoppable.
“You’ve done your research,” he said.
“It’s my job.”
“Right. Of course.”
He had been inspired, he told her, by time spent working as a contractor in war zones. He talked about entire cities destroyed, and how he had passed the time thinking about exactly how he would rebuild them, if he could, and how that had led to his career. His plans for the Cleveland lakefront could not have been more ambitious.
“This could be a great town,” he was saying. “Itwillbe great. It gets a bad rap, but the lakefront, the river—”
“You mean the river that caught on fire?”
“Hey,” he said, palms in the air. “It’s your city, I’m not going to try to sell it to you. But I like the place, genuinely. It’s a workingman’s town, and to me that’s a good thing. New York, London, Paris—they’re so far removed now from actual industry. Fromgrit. But Cleveland’s still working its ass off—or trying to—and for me, that gives it character. Besides, the river on fire makes for a great comeback story.”
“And you’re going to single-handedly orchestrate that comeback?”
