Page 179 of Letters From A Stalker

I stayed long enough to see Daniel grab her around the shoulders the second court adjourned, then slipped into the hallway before she could come looking for me. Her colleagues deserve their moment with her. Her client certainly does.

I have already had mine. I had it when she stood in our bedroom this morning wearing navy trousers, a cream blouse and the expression of a woman trying very hard not to throw up, while I tied my watch and pretended not to notice she had reapplied her lipstick three times.

“You’re staring,” she said through the mirror.

“I’m admiring.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“You’ve been nervous since five-thirty.”

“I was not nervous at five-thirty.”

“You put salt in your coffee.”

She had stared at me. Then at the mug. Then back at me. I “I was aware of that.”

“Of course.”

She dumped the coffee down the sink while muttering something about me being deeply unsupportive, and five minutes later I had her sitting on the edge of the bed between my knees while I rubbed my hands over her thighs and reminded her that she had been doing most of this job for years before anyone gave her permission to put attorney after her name. That was all I said. She didn’t need a speech. She needed me to look her in the eye and tell her she was ready because she fucking was.

A burst of laughter reaches me through the courtroom doors, followed by Daniel’s unmistakable voice, and my mouth curves before I can stop it. I check my watch. Another minute passes before the doors finally open. Two attorneys come out first, followed by a clerk carrying a stack of files. One of Julia’s senior partners appears behind them talking to Michael, and both men give me a brief nod when they see me.

Still a fucking asshole.

Then Daniel comes through backward because apparently doors are merely suggestions when he is mid-conversation.

“You are buying drinks,” he tells whoever is still inside. “I don’t care that this happened during business hours. There are laws protecting me from working sober after emotional events.”

“You just invented that law.” Her voice reaches me before she does.

Everything in me responds to it and then Julia finally steps into the hallway. She is holding a folder against her chest, her hair slightly mussed from running her hands through it all morning, and there is still enough adrenaline in her expression that her eyes look brighter than usual. She sees me, stops and smiles.

Fuck.

There are still moments when I look at her and feel the same violent pull I did the first day she walked into my office, except now I don’t have to bury it beneath a suit and professional distance or turn it into something uglier because I am too much of a coward to ask for what I want properly. Now I get to want her openly and it is a privilege I have no intention of forgetting.

Daniel looks between us and sighs theatrically. “There it is.”

Julia doesn’t take her eyes off me. “What?”

“That face you make when your scary boyfriend is nearby.”

“I don’t make a face. And he is not scary.”

“You absolutely make a face. And he is scary.”

Michael passes behind him, patting Julia once on the shoulder. “You were excellent in there.”

I inhale at the same time the voice in my head chimes in again — dickwad.

“Thank you.” Julia smiles but her eyes are still on me and I celebrate that small victors.

“We’ll see you Monday. Do not open your laptop this weekend.”

Daniel points at him. “See? Leadership.”

Then he turns back to Julia and lowers his voice loudly enough for everyone within thirty feet to hear. “Go have sex with your terrifying man. You earned it.”