He ignores me. “We have IIED cases in this state. But none where the woman broke up with the fiancé first. I need to figure out an angle to help her claim.”
I flip through some of his other papers, reading snippets here and there. “I thought you did employment law. Or wait, you said something about trying to keep someone out of prison too?”
“I do it all. Criminal law, I mainly do for free. Other cases like this and the Evadon one pay the bills.”
“Ahhh, so that’s why you took this lady’s case.”
“No.” Jack’s voice is surprisingly firm.
“Oh. I can help you. If you want?” I have so much of my own work, but this feels a bit like peeking through the keyhole of who someone is—who Jack is. I can’t help myself.
He hands me a file. “Flip through her statements and texts and emails, look for anything we can use to suggest her ex was cruel, manipulative, that sort of thing.”
I page through the file, taking in all the printouts, adding sticky notes to items I think might make sense for Jack’s filing. An hour into my hunt, a scrap of paper wedged in between two documents becomes visible.
Thank you, Jack. You’re the only one who didn’t laugh.
-Sophie
I hold up the note, a question in my eyes.
“She went to tons of lawyers and got laughed out of offices across the city. She deserved to have her pain treated with dignity.” He shrugs.
“You think you can win?”
“No. This case is virtually unwinnable. IIED is hard to prove. It’s a four-prong test. Even if we can meet the criteria for all four prongs—the severity of the treatment, the intent or reckless disregard for her feelings that caused the distress, the direct link between that conduct and her harm, and all the verifiable harm including physical symptoms—New York’s threshold of evidence for this stuff is super high.”
“Why would you file if you can’t win?” I cross my legs more fully and pull his blanket over my shoulders.
“Just because you can’t win doesn’t mean the case shouldn’t be filed. Sometimes people sue just to be heard. I want to get past summary judgment so that the case isn’t tossed and she can force people to listen.”
He wants her to feel heard. I stare at him, slack-jawed, warmth I can’t explain spreading through me.
“What?” he asks, staring back at me. It feels like a strange spell has been cast.
“You have glitter on your ear.”
His lip twitches, and he shakes his head.
We work through the night, side by side in a strange little apartment cocoon. And in some small way, helping him with his work—helping Sophie be heard—feels like a balm for the guilt I’ve been carrying today.
22
Wendy has a notepad on her lap. I find my eyes drifting toward it, wondering what she’s written about me so far. Neurotic? Fixated on a dude? Boring? Winning smile and killer balayage?
“So, what’s going on, Penny?” Wendy asks with a smile.
My mind is a blank. “Ah, nothing much. I’m feeling pretty good.”
“Okay, great. Anything you want to talk about today?”
“Um, sure… You know the actor Lucas Webb? Well, he fell through the hole in my wall and broke his jaw.”
Her eyebrows fly into her hairline, and her mouth hangs slack for just a moment before she collects herself. Part of me feels like I’m winning at therapy. If I can shock a professional…
I tell her all about the mishap with Lucas and Jack, which leads to the disclosure that Jack isnot, in fact, with Yelena. Which leads to talking about the warmth that has infused every look Jack and I have shared in the days since Jack fought the sheet. Which leads to talk about the work on his case.
“Will you tell him you’ve developed feelings for him?”
