She pulls back, her eyes immediately landing on the document spread across my desk. “Don’t tell me you’re still looking at that thing.”
“I can’t help it.” I sigh, sinking back into my chair. “There has to be something I’m missing.”
Penelope perches on the edge of my desk, knocking a stack of files with her elbow. She doesn’t seem to notice as I right them. “Judge Matthews is driving me insane today. He keeps changing his mind about the admissibility of the evidence. I swear, he’s more indecisive than my teenage niece choosing what to wear to prom.”
I manage a weak laugh. “At least your problems have solutions.”
“Yours does too,” she says, her expression softening. “Go home, Sara. Get some rest. You’ve been staring at that will for a week now.”
“I can’t,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “There’s something about it that doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Maybe you need fresh eyes on it?”
I nod. She does have a point. There’s no one I trust more than my boyfriend, anyway. “Is Richard around? I haven’t seen him all day.”
Penelope shakes her head. “Still in meetings. That merger case is taking up all his time. I’m supposed to pull more files for him before he gets back.”
“He’s lucky to have you.” Richard has been gushing over how happy he is to be working with my best friend. She’s the best paralegal in Denver, after all. “Tell him to text me as soon as he gets back, will you?”
“Sure thing,” she says, standing up. “But you need to go home. Get your rest in.”
I nod, the exhaustion suddenly hitting me full force. “Thanks, babe.”
I begin organizing my files, stacking them neatly according to case number and date. It’s a habit I can’t break—everything in its proper place. Penelope watches with an amused expression as I align my pens perfectly with the edge of the desk and wipe away a smudge on my computer screen.
“You know,” she says, “most people just leave their offices messy.”
“I’m not most people,” I reply without looking up.
“That’s for damn sure.” She laughs.
Once everything is in order, I grab my purse and follow Penelope out of my office. We walk down the hallway, our heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The building is mostly empty now, the rest of the firm having left hours ago.
“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a drink?” Penelope asks as we reach the elevator. “I know this new cocktail bar that just opened downtown. Their espresso martinis are to die for. That could help you take the edge off.”
“Maybe another time,” I say, pressing the button. “I really need to sleep.”
“Alright,” she says, pulling me into another hug. “But don’t stay up all night reading that will.”
“No promises,” I joke.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside. “Goodnight, Pen.”
“Night, Sara.”
As the elevator descends, I check my reflection in the mirrored walls. My dark hair is pulled back in a severe bun, my makeup minimal. I look professional, put together. Nothing like the wild girl who used to ride bareback through fields of wildflowers.
The lobby is quiet when I step out, only Franklin, the night watchman, sitting at the security desk.
“Ms. Cruz,” he says, looking up from his newspaper. “Working late again?”
“Just wrapping up,” I say with a smile. “How’s your wife, Franklin?”
“Better,” he says, his face lighting up. “The physical therapy is really helping.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. Have a good night.”
“You too, Ms. Cruz.”
