I stand in the elevator, watching the numbers climb toward the forty-seventh floor, my stomach twisting into increasingly complex knots. My reflection shows a woman who looks perfectly fine which is a complete lie. My stomach clenches as the doors slide open. I straighten my spine, forcing my legs to move forward into the reception. One foot in front of the other. Professional smile fixed in place. Maybe he won’t show up today? Maybe after Friday night, he’s done with me entirely.
“Good morning, Minji,” Rosalyn chirps. “Mr. Singleton arrived early. He’s been sitting in conference room A.”
“Good morning, Rosalyn. Thank you… I’ll go check on him.” I head straight there, because honestly, there is no reason for me to avoid him. Each step brings me closer to a confrontation I’m not prepared for. I can see him, through the glass walls, bent over a notebook, pen moving across the page. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow between his brows. Is he upset about Friday? Or is it something he is writing about?
For a moment, I consider turning around, but he glances up. Our eyes meet through the glass, and everything else fades away. The bustling office, the ringing phones, and the colleagues rushing by with coffee and files all become mere background noise. I force myself forward, pushing open the conference room door. It’s too late to turn back now.
“Good morning.”
Aaron sets his pen down. “Morning, Counselor.”
“I have a consultation at ten. A potential new client. You’re welcome to observe as we discussed.”
“Actually,” his deep voice sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine, “I was thinking of skipping that one.”
“Oh? Is everything okay?”
“I’ve gathered enough material on initial consultations.” His eyes are steady on mine, revealing nothing. “I thought I might work on organizing my notes today. And I’ll speak with some paralegals about their day-to-day.”
“I see.” The rejection is professional and reasonable and shouldn’t hurt at all. But it does anyway. “That makes sense.”
“Since you need the conference room, if you don’t mind, I’ll be in your office finishing up my notes.” He slowly stands, gathering his things.
Aaron pauses at the threshold, his hand resting on the doorframe. For a moment, I think he might turn back, might say whatever it is that’s clearly weighing on him. Instead, his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he continues into the hallway without another word.
The moment he’s gone, I sink into a chair, allowing myself five seconds of weakness.One, two, three, four, five.Then I force myself back into the armor of professional detachment. I knew having sex with him was a bad idea, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I let my own selfishness cause unnecessary drama. I guess this is what Axel was trying to warn me about.
By the time my ten o’clock arrives, I’ve reviewed the case notes twice and buried my personal turmoil beneath layers of legal strategy. I greet Mrs. Calloway with a firm handshake and my most reassuring smile, guiding her to the conference room. Throughout the consultation, I find my attention drifting toward the door visible through the glass walls. It remains firmly closed; there is no sign of Aaron emerging. I force myself to focus on Mrs. Calloway’s tale of her husband’s suspected infidelity, but part of me remains hyperaware of that closed door and the man behind it.
When the consultation ended, I felt more emotionally unstable than I did when I first arrived at the office. My nextclient isn’t for another hour, leaving me with nowhere to hide from the inevitable.
I approach my office slowly, rehearsing neutral, professional phrases in my head. Because let’s face it, I don’t know what the hell to say to him. This man has fucked me to the point of oblivion, and I kicked him out without a second thought. When I push open the door, Aaron is exactly where I expected—seated in the guest chair, his laptop open, fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard. He doesn’t look up immediately, but I know he’s aware of my presence from the slight stiffening of his shoulders.
“How’s the writing going?” I ask, aiming for casual, as I move behind my desk.
“Fine.” He continues typing for a moment before finally meeting my eyes. “How was the consultation?”
“Standard infidelity case.” I settle into my chair. “Nothing you haven’t heard before.”
“I think I’ll have enough material for my book before the three weeks are up. So, I’ll be out of your way sooner than we both expected. I’ll also be making my rounds to see if other employees will let me tag along on their day-to-day tasks.” His gaze locks with mine, revealing nothing, and that concerns me. I can always tell how Aaron is feeling for the most part through his eyes, but today he is giving me nothing.
“Oh.” I want to ask if it’s because of what happened Friday night, but we both know the answer is yes. “I have a mediation in an hour if you would like to sit on that?”
“Well.” His eyes drop back to his screen. “Umm sure. I’ll let Katia and Cindy know I’ll have to reschedule.” He picks up his phone, and I watch him go to his messages.Since when did he get their numbers?
His fingers fly across the screen, typing a message I can’t see. The silence between us stretches, uncomfortable and heavy. This isn’t how we were just a few days ago. This isn’t the man wholooked at me like I hung the moon, who touched me like I was something precious. It’s ridiculous for me to want to go back to the way things were after whatIdid, but people make mistakes, right?
“You’re staring,” Aaron says without looking up.
“Sorry,” I shift my gaze to my computer screen, though I don’t actually see anything on it. My heart pounds in my chest. What have I done?
“So, you’re really cutting your shadowing short?” I try to keep my voice neutral and professional. “I thought you needed more material.”
Aaron finally looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Let me clarify. I’m not leaving the office; I’ll still be here, but I won’t be shadowing you as much. I did speak with Caleb regarding shadowing a few junior associates and paralegals.” His voice is clipped. “It makes no sense to take up more of your valuable time, and if I have any questions, I’ll come find you.”
The words sting more than they should. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? Professional distance. Boundaries. No complications. So why does it hurt so fucking much? Could I still have feelings for him? After all these years?
“Aaron, about Friday night?—”
