The guy next to me with the chest hair planted a furry paw on my back and patted me like I was one of his cubs who’d just performed a particularly cute trick.
Finn pulled back, his face now bright red, his eyes wide as though he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.
I didn’t care about the guys or giant next to me or even the teasing from Finn’s gang.
I just smiled.
I couldn’t help it.
“Text me later?” I said.
“Yeah. Yes. Definitely.”
“Good.”
I winked—actually winked, like I was in a bad Lifetime rom-com and had lost control of my facial expressions—and turned to leave. The crowd parted, people grinning at me, a few guys calling out encouragement as I made my way to the door. Even more clapped me on the shoulder like I’d just scored the winning goal in the Lightning game.
I stepped out into the Tampa night, grinning like an idiot, my lips still tingling from Finn’s kiss with the sound of Benji’s chaos still echoing behind me.
Tomorrow I had work and meetings and then more work. I had the Patterson mediation that I’d overprepared for. But tonight, I’d been kissed by a beautiful Irish bartender in front of a building full of witnesses, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy.
Monday morning came way too early. As promised, The PK stayed with me, reminding me of my evening’s misadventures—and the evils of alcohol.
I arrived at my desk by seven-thirty, coffee in hand, going over my notes one last time. The mediation itself was in Conference Room A—the big one with the long table and uncomfortable chairs that made everyone want to leave as quickly as possible. The Pattersons arrived at 8:55.
Mr. Patterson looking grim.
Mrs. Patterson looking grimmer.
Bob and Catherine handled the introductions while I set up my notes, organized the documents, prepared for the worst.
The first hour was what we’d expected, a tense, uncomfortable exchange with both parties dug in on their positions. Mr. Patterson wanted to keepthe investment property in Austin. Mrs. Patterson wanted it sold and the proceeds split. Both had valid arguments. Neither wanted to compromise.
I’d seen this dance a hundred times.
“What if,” I said during a break, “we looked at this differently?”
Both Pattersons turned toward me.
So did Bob and Catherine.
It was the first time I’d spoken since the true conflict had begun.
“The Austin property is worth approximately $400,000,” I continued. “Mr. Patterson wants to keep it for investment purposes. Mrs. Patterson wants liquidity. What if we structured this so Mr. Patterson keeps the property but compensates Mrs. Patterson with $200,000 from his retirement account? That way she gets liquid assets now, he keeps the property, and we avoid the capital gains tax hit from selling.”
Silence.
Then Mrs. Patterson said, “I would . . .considerthat.”
Mr. Patterson frowned. “That’s a significant portion of my retirement—”
“But you’d keep the property,” I pointed out. “Which you’ve said multiple times is important to you. The retirement account is pre-tax, so the actualimpact is less than $200,000 when you factor in tax implications down the road.”
More silence.
“I need to think about it,” Mr. Patterson said.
“Of course. Take your time.”
