It turnsout that they were ready. Or rather, they thought they were.
I’d expected this to be a bluff. Kevin’s been a piece of shit throughout this entire process, and while I didn’t expect him towantto retreat, I hoped that his counsel would have been smart enough to force him to. The email I received at ten o’clock last night proved otherwise.
The affidavit they submitted to the judge is garbage, and I spent two hours typing out a rebuttal, detailing every single lie that should throw this entire case away. We’re wasting everyone’s time and money with this battle when both sides are well aware that Lydia is the only option for guardianship. This is a last-ditch effort from yet another absentee father to try to feel less like the fuck-up he is.
If he won, it would only be so that he could say he did. His little boy wouldn’t matter, and eventually, he’d be back in Lydia’s arms, anyway.
My eyes burn from exhaustion as I pull up the latest report from the visitation centre, reading through Kevin’s last few hours spent with his son. He’s put on a good show; I’ll give him that much. The AA statement was just as phony as the ex-girlfriend’s letter, but he’s passed every single Breathalyzer thus far. If he’s drinking, he isn’t doing it on the days he’s set to see his son.
I tap my desk, considering the idea of requesting more frequent, random testing. My gut tells me he’s still drinking, even if he’s being smart about when. I just can’t prove it this way. Closing out of the latest report, I open my calendar and find the date of our next court appearance. Next week is still too far, but it’s close enough. I’ll have enough time to prepare what I need to.
The tiny clock on the corner of my screen tells me I’ve been here for far too long. Even Victor left without bothering me. If he’d tried, I’d have thrown my pen holder at him and gotten fired, so that’s for the best. His little minion didn’t pay me a visit, either, which may be the only reason I didn’t work faster.
This is exactly the type of case that has Spencer’s resentment for me spiking. The little sneak has plotted to steal it from me more than a handful of times, but between Rowena and Lydia, he’s failed each time. I’m too far in now for his arguments to be heard, even by Victor.
Spencer is the lawyer everyone in the firm thought would make junior partner first. He’s smart enough to have succeeded had it not been for me. He’s two years older, with more cases under his belt and a tight-knit relationship with the name partner with the most say in the firm. Yet I still yanked the golden rug right out from under him and stepped over his sprawled body to take the title for myself. I’ve never regretted that. This business is cutthroat, and when I was offered the promotion, I took it without a second thought.
He doesn’t share the same feelings despite knowing he’s next in line.
Dropping my head to my desk, I blow out a long breath across the sleek wood. My condo is an almost ten-minute drive from the firm, but even that feels like too long. I’ve slept in myoffice more times than I can count. It wouldn’t be out of place for me to crash on the couch . . .
With a groan, I push my chair back and snag my purse. I lock up behind me, not trusting Spencer to respect my privacy like the weasel he is. My assistant’s desk is directly across from my door, as neat as it always is. I smile to myself at that, knowing I chose well.
Without traffic, I make it home in nineteen minutes instead of twenty—a small win. The elevator is silent sans the hum of the motor as it climbs floor after floor before dinging on the eighteenth. As soon as the doors open, I take heavy steps into the hall before pausing.
“Do you know what time it is, Finn?”
The boyish grin my best friend shoots my way from his place at my door is a dead giveaway that he doesn’t care. Exhaustion lines his bright blue eyes as he leans back against the wall, two thick arms crossed at his wide chest. The Vancouver Havoc MLB hoodie he’s got on is the same green as the uniform he was wearing during the game I caught glimpses of earlier.
“Do you? I figured you were working when you didn’t text me back earlier. I’ve got food.”
Closing the gap between us, I shake my head and grin, eyeing the white bag of takeout he’s got resting between his feet. He pushes away from the wall and drops his arms before reaching for the purse I’m almost too tired to carry.
“You’re putting a lot of faith in there not being ants on the carpet. If I find crawlers in my chow mein, I’m going to tell on you for eating this shit in the first place.”
“In this building? They’d be of the gold variety. I’m sure you’d survive.”
I snort, letting him take my purse while I unlock the door and then shove it open. With a swipe of my hand, I flick on the lights.My heels go flying when I kick them off and sigh at the ache in the soles of my feet.
“Did you win tonight?” I ask, moving through the condo.
It’s a very nice place. I closed on it only two months after my promotion. Maybe it was a bit impulsive to purchase something so nice so soon, but my lease was up at my old place, and Finn is the worst for peer pressure. He makes more in one year than I’ll make in my entire working career. Still, I let him sway my decisions as if I have the same sum in my accounts as he does.
The sleek dark wood floors gleam under the white lights before turning into expensive marble in the kitchen. I rarely cook, but I’ve been inclined to give it the old college try every time I take in this space. The appliances are top-of-the-line, which I’m sure would have sold this place to someone else. For me, it was the living room windows that convinced me this was my place.
The view is everything I wanted, with two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the harbour and the boats docked there. Coal Harbour isn’t cheap—shocker. My single-bedroom condo cost as much as a three-bedroom home anywhere else in Vancouver, if you’re lucky. Without my hefty bonus, I wouldn’t have been able to afford the down payment, but I swung it, and here I am.
“Iwasthe starting pitcher, Aubrey,” Finn teases, bypassing the kitchen entirely to set the food down on the coffee table. “Played a full seven innings, too.”
“Right. Silly me.”
“Do you think you’ll have a chance to come to my next game? The guys keep asking about you.”
I sit beside him, accepting the food container as I relax my shoulders. He waits until I’ve popped the top before offering me a fork.
Taking it, I lean into the couch. “When is that?”
“I’ll circle the date on your calendar before I leave.”
