Page 135 of The Lonely Road

I’ve reconstructed it from the public record, from the timing of the recess request, from the interim order Judge Colbeck issued eighteen days later.

She recovered—filed a supplemental brief that I’ve read three times in the public docket.

It’s remarkable.

She took the thing I handed Jessup’s team and used the historical record to reframe it so thoroughly that the judge is now reconsidering whether the procedural defect is even material.

Forty-seven pages from Aldridge in response, which tells you everything.

And every second of every Goddamn day—I miss her.

I ache for her.

When I sleep, I forget she’s not in my life any longer and dream about her. I wake up and then…I go for a run because missing her is a physical pain.

Also, my phone has zero missed calls from Taya Morningstar.

I check this more than I should.

It’s seven-forty on a Tuesday evening, and I’m on my third bourbon, staring at a ballgame program I couldn’t tell you about if asked at gunpoint, when there’s a knock on the door.

I frown.

Can’t be food delivery. I haven’t ordered anything.

I was, and have been thinking for an hour, that maybe today is a good day to actually step out and enjoy June in New York City, as everyone seems to be doing so through my window. But then the bourbon beckoned, and I…just gave up.

I open the door.

Kaz Chase is in the hallway in jeans and a blazer despite the heat, which I can bet my apartment is hiding his badge and weapon.

“How the hell did you get up here?” I have a concierge.

“Flashed my badge.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, I know.” He glances at the bourbon in my hand. “Put that down and get your wallet. We’re going to dinner.”