Mark was studying me with interest. “What made you choose family law? Most law students go for corporate or criminal.”
“I—” I paused, deciding whether to give the polished answer or the real one, finally landing on the painful truth. “I watched my parents’ divorce destroy both of them when I was seventeen. It was ugly and expensive and nobody won, especially not me. I thought maybe I could help other families not go through that.”
Mark’s expression softened. “That’s a good reason.”
“The good guys don’t always win, but I try.”
“Finn said you negotiated a modified partnership track at your firm. That’s impressive. Most associates don’t have that kind of leverage.”
I was a bit stunned; not that Finn would’ve told Mark about my track, but that he knew what a modified track meant. “I got lucky. Guess my bosses didn’t want to lose me.”
“Or you’re just that good,” Finn said, not looking up from the grill.
I felt my face heat.
Mark’s grin was instant. “He’s defending you already. That’s so sweet.”
“I’m not defending him,” Finn protested. “I’m just stating facts.”
“Sure you are,” Mark chuckled.
We fell into easier conversation after that, with Mark asking about my work, whether I enjoyed family law or if I’d consider switching practice areas, and a dozen other questions. He was smart and direct, asking questions that felt genuine rather than performative.
And through it all, Finn kept glancing over from the grill, checking on me, making sure I was okay.
“You know,” Mark said at one point, following my gaze to where Finn was flipping burgers. “I’ve known Finn for years, worked with him every day since we opened Barbacks, and I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like what?”
“Happy. Really, genuinely happy.” Mark took a sip of his beer. “He loves the bar, but there’s always been this edge to him—this stress or worry that it might all fall apart. But lately? That’s gone. He’s lighter, and I think that’s because of you.”
I was so stunned I didn’t know what to say. “He makes me happy, too.”
“Good, because if you hurt him, Priya’s not the only one who knows how to hide a body.”
He said it with a smile, but—
Thank God, the doorbell rang.
Finn called from the grill, “Chase, can you get it?”
I headed inside, Mark following, and opened the door to find the gang’s massive barback—easily six-foot-two, broad shoulders, the build of someone who’d played serious football—standing there holding a six-pack of craft beer and looking almost comically nervous.
“Hi,” he said, raising a hand and waving as though we weren’t standing two feet away. “I brought, uh—” He held up the six-pack. “I didn’t know what to bring, so. Beer. Everyone likes beer, right? Or is that too basic? Should I have brought wine? I don’t know anything about wine. Benji said to bring wine, but I was like, I’ll just look stupid trying to pick wine, you know? So, beer.”
“Beer’s perfect,” I said, stepping aside so the gentle giant could make his way inside. “Just drop that on the kitchen counter. Finn’s out back.”
Chapter 41
Finn
Through the sliding glass door, I could see all the way to where Chase was opening the front door. Even from where I stood, I could tell he was still nervous. His shoulders looked tight and his smile a little forced.
Then Jacks lumbered in. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Chase gaping as our beefy barback rambled on, something about beer and wine, while Chase tried to get a word in edge-wise.
“Beer’s perfect,” Chase managed.
I watched them disappear toward the kitchen and, a minute later, emerge into the backyard. Jacks was still talking. Chase looked overwhelmed but also amused. Mark was eating up every moment.
