“—get naked with someone who—”
“Gideon.”
He holds up his hands. “I’m just saying. Maybe delegate some of this workload. Take a long weekend. Get a massage. Find a nice woman who—”
An image flashes in my mind. Poppy. Her bare feet on the grass. Hair falling in her face as she laughs. The way she bit her bottom lip when she was thinking.
I clear my throat. “I’m fine.”
“You just twitched.”
“I didn’t twitch.”
“Your left eye twitched. Like a tell.”
This is why I hate people.
I sit down, open my laptop, and start typing. “The Morrison brief needs to be filed by five. The deposition notes need to be organized. And I’ve got a conference call with opposing counsel at two.”
Gideon leans against the doorframe. “Dean.”
“What.”
“You sure nothing’s going on at home?”
Home.
Where she’s probably reorganizing something. Singing to herself. Making lists in that careful handwriting. Where Muffin’sprobably following her around like a furry stalker, and George is… God, I hope George is gone by now.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Because if there was—say, a woman—I’d understand why you’re acting like someone stole your favorite pen.”
I stop typing. “There’s no woman.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There isn’t.”
“So you’re just naturally this tense?”
I lean back in my chair and give him the look that usually makes junior associates apologize for breathing.
It doesn’t work on Gideon.
Damn him.
“Okay,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “Well, when you’re done pretending you’re not thinking about whoever she is, Feldstein wants to see you. Conference room. Now.”
He walks away before I can argue.
I stare at my screen. The cursor blinks back at me, mocking.
There’s no woman.
There’s a wedding planner who’s temporarily disrupting my life. There’s a problem I need to solve. A distraction I need to eliminate.
That’s it.
