I looked up to find Paige standing in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light. She was wearing one of my old t-shirts, her hair messy from trying to sleep, and she was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“How did you get her to stop?” she whispered, moving closer.
I grinned despite my exhaustion. “I explained contributory negligence in tort law. Riveting stuff.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she said with a sleepy smile.
“Hey, it worked.”
She reached out and touched my arm, her hand warm even through my t-shirt. “You’re a natural at this.”
We stood there in the dim light, her hand on my arm, Lily sleeping peacefully between us. Paige looked up at me, and I saw golden flecks in her hazel eyes.
She leaned closer to check on her sleeping daughter. Her finger lingered against my arm, and I felt my breath catch.
Our faces were inches apart. Close enough that I could count her freckles, see the exhaustion still lingering around her eyes, feel the warmth of her breath.
For a moment, neither of us moved and the world narrowed to just us. Me, Paige, and the sleeping baby in my arms. I could have kissed her. I’d been wanting to taste her lips for days.
Then Lily snuffled against my shoulder, making a small sound of contentment.
Paige stepped back, clearing her throat. “I should… let you put her down.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice coming out rougher. “Yeah, okay.”
After carefully transferring Lily to her crib and creeping out of the nursery, I found Paige still awake in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked.
“No.” She patted the couch beside her. “Want to watch something mindless until we pass out?”
I should go to my room and maintain some distance. I should remember Sean’s warning.
But fuck it.
So, I sat down beside her.
It felt like we were teenagers again. Watching a movie in her room way past her bedtime because I sneaked into her room after dinner.
After the opening credits, she turned to me.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you become a lawyer? You’re brilliant at it, but... was it always what you wanted?”
I was quiet for a moment, processing her words, and maybe it was my exhausted and drowsy mind that kept my voice sincere when I said, “I almost didn’t go to law school. You knew I have—had dyslexia. And a stutter. Reading took me twice as long as it should, and law school was basically drowning in reading.”
Her hand found mine in the darkness. “You were very resilient,” she said.
I was but only because of her. She cheered me on during our library study sessions and brought me home-cooked meals so I wouldn’t starve myself with one ramen a day.
“Thank you. I was convinced I was too stupid for it and that I’d fail out the first semester.” I looked down at our intertwined fingers. “But I was also angry. At everyone who made fun of my stutter, angry at the teachers who thought I was lazy instead of struggling. I wanted to prove them all wrong. Especially my dad… you know how he was. He kept berating me that—anyway, I wanted to prove him wrong.”
“And you did, didn’t you?”
“Top of my class, baby!” I said, squeezing her hand. “Turns out spite is an excellent motivator.”
