“But if you must know, I called up to the firm and was told you had court today.” He kisses my forehead. “Do you have any more cases, or was that it for today?”
“I have two more. Lucky for you, these cases are open to the public. So, you’re more than welcome to sit in on them.” I still find it baffling that the courts allow the public to sit in on divorce cases, hell even some family court cases.
He grins, showing just enough teeth to edge on wolfish. “I’ve always wanted to heckle an opposing counsel. Consider today my training montage.”
“Please don’t. You’ve already been spotted with me. Try not to bring any attention to yourself. Just sit in the back and be quiet.”
“I was only kidding, I’ll behave.” He nods earnestly, almost convincing me he’ll behave. But I see the glint in his eyes and the hidden smile. He’s already plotting clever ways to outsmartthe judiciary, perhaps with a cough, a shuffle, or a perfect double thumbs-up from the gallery. “But let me give you a little good luck charm.” He leans forward, kissing me.
I melt into him, even though we’re standing outside the courthouse where anyone could see. The kiss is soft, gentle, and I can’t help but smile against his lips. When we break apart, I notice a few onlookers quickly averting their gaze.
“Now that’s what I call a good luck charm,” I tease, straightening my blazer. “But seriously, I have a reputation to maintain. I can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft.”
“Heaven forbid,” Aaron says with mock horror. “The great Minji Lee, caught experiencing human emotion in public. The scandal!”
I roll my eyes but can’t suppress my smile. “Come on.”
He’s like a puppy among dobermans: frustrating yet oddly intoxicating. I open the courthouse doors; he follows, hands in pockets, eyes scanning the fluorescent halls with the excited confusion of someone who has lived in stories and now steps into one. I like watching him see things for the first time… so to speak.
He shivers off the rain with a quick flick of his head, sending droplets arcing onto the tile. The security guard glances at us both, seemingly thinking: why is a supermodel here, and why is he with Minji Lee, who usually has the company of angry ex-wives and the ghosts of her ambitions? I want to roll my eyes, but I let Aaron take the lead as we slip into the security line, which is moving slowly thanks to the early-afternoon rush. The guard grumbles, the woman ahead mutters about being late for her divorce, and Aaron just stands there, smiling at how absurd it all is.
We navigate through security, badge in, and I head towards the elevators alongside Aaron, who floats at my side. He doesn’t inquire about the day’s cases or try to motivate me like a coach;he simply stays present, humming softly and off-key while I check my phone for courtroom assignments. I’m accustomed to working alone, wearing a shield of competence that warns,don’t get too close, I might hurt you. Yet today, that armor feels unnecessary. Perhaps it’s because he keeps smiling, or because he observes everything like a kid in a candy store.
I do a quick mental inventory: the first case is a custody hearing at 1:15, low stakes unless the father’s lawyer tries something stupid. Second is a procedural, which should take about as long as it takes to say ‘denied.’ There’s a third one in the afternoon, but that’s technically optional since I’m only there to observe some attorney, so I can blow it off if the rest of the day goes to hell.
We camp outside the first hearing room; Aaron is perched on a bench like a bored but well-mannered teen while I trade last-minute texts with Eliza. Across from us, the other parties start to arrive. I brace myself to switch on, to tap into whatever icy current keeps me upright in these situations, but when I look over, Aaron is watching me, attention laser-focused, like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing.
“What?” I snap.
He just shakes his head with a soft smile. “I like watching you work. I can see you about to transform before my eyes,” he says, and it’s so earnest I have to look away.
“Just remember, don’t draw any attention to yourself,” I remind him.
The hearing blurs together, as they often do. My client, a thin art teacher, faces an ex-husband who hasn’t paid the mortgage in three years but suddenly talks about “stability” for his child. The judge, a woman with a deep voice and a fondness for legal puns, manages the proceedings efficiently. I present my arguments, counter the opposing counsel’s weak claims, and remain unfazed when he alleges my client is ‘emotionallyerratic.’ The hearing lasts twenty minutes, but I already sense the outcome before the judge finishes. We win; my client grips my hand so tightly that I lose sensation in three fingers. As I stand to leave, Aaron is waiting in the corridor, hands in his pockets, humming theLaw and Ordertheme.
“One down,” he says, falling into step next to me.
“You really sat through the whole thing? I mean, it was only twenty minutes, but still. I thought you would’ve snuck out.”
He shrugs. “You’re a natural. Also, that other guy was the worst. Is it legal to boo in court?”
“Not unless you want to be held in contempt.” I can’t hide my smile.
We move on to the next room, which is smaller and has a mostly paperwork-and-posturing crowd, just as expected. The other lawyer—who looks like he still gets haircuts at SuperCuts—attempts to introduce new evidence without prior notice. I find his laziness almost offensive. I object, and the judge agrees with me, resulting in a quick exchange, and I secure the point. By the time we’re finished, it’s almost three, and I’m borderline hangry.
Aaron is waiting, as always, by the door, arms folded and a look of delighted awe on his face. “That was hot,” he whispers. “It’s something about you taking control that gets me going.”
“We are in public,” I mutter.
“Shall we make a detour to the restroom?” he jokes. Well, I hope he is joking.
Maybe it’s just the endorphins of winning, maybe it’s the knowledge that I didn’t have to perform for him, not really, but I catch myself wanting to be around him for a little longer. We walk out into the lobby, past the metal detector, and out of the courthouse.
Aaron stops just before we head out into the rain again. “What’s the next move, Counselor?”
I’m about to say ‘office’, because it’s my default, but the word tastes sour. I look at him, at his hopeful, ridiculous face, and I decide to try something that isn’t work for once.
“Lunch,” I say. “And then I don’t know? A nap? Your choice.”
