I eye him down until he’s back in his vehicle and driving away. Only then do I reach down to look at what legal trouble has just found me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lorien is flipping pages on her front stoop like she’s engrossed in a thriller she can’t look away from.
I, on the other hand, wonder if a sack of snakes would be more concerning. Slowly, I pull the bound papers from the legal envelope to see I’m being sued.
“The fuck.” The words are spit from my chest.
“They’re suing me. Those lowlifes are suingme,” my neighbor says in a higher pitch and with more disbelief in her tone than I thought possible for her.
And they’re suing me too. An act of aggression, the paperwork says.
“Get me the name of your attorney,” I bark. “And your insurance company.” I turn and head inside, closing the door with more force than strictly necessary.
No good deed ever goes unpunished.
Me: I need Sherman’s personal cell.
Christian: Everything okay?
Me: No.
I flip through the pages again before my phone lights up.
“Yeah?” My tone is softer than it would be with anyone else. My sister doesn’t deserve my wrath.
“Liam.” She exhales a sigh that can only say relief.
“Yeah.” My sigh matches hers. What a clusterfuck.
“What’s going on? Christian said you need Sherman.”
“I’m being sued. I might not need Sherman. I may need someone with more teeth.”
“Sherman’s a shark. And we trust him.”
“We’ll see.”
“Need me to come over? Want to come here?”
“Do you have any heretofore unknown legal prowess?”
“Don’t be rude. Whatever this is, it’s not worth taking out on me.”
“You’re right.” I draw in a huge breath.
“I’m on my way. And I’m bringing coffee.” She disconnects before I can say I have coffee here and that I’m in no mood for company.
I throw on a pot, mostly to keep my hands busy and because it’ll annoy Ayla, and start a load of laundry. I’m not domestic, but I need to stay busy.
By the time I finish wiping down the counters—God help me, I’m channeling my inner Cian—my sister has arrived, Sophia in her carrier and a tray of coffee in her other hand.
“Why are there three? You’re supposed to be on reduced amounts due to…” I nod at my godchild in her seat as I lift her from my sister’s dangling arm.
She drops her purse with a thunk on my dining room table and follows me into my living room, carrying the coffees with her. She lifts one and hands it to me.
I shake my head. “My niece needs a snuggle.”
“Your niece has been grumbly and, if you wake her up, I will be too.”
