Eva
As much as it tore me to fucking pieces, I had kept my promise. I had stayed away from Jamie. I had even gone to Target and bought a coffee machine so I wouldn’t be tempted to go to Saxby’s and stare at his church . . . and hope to catch a glimpse of him.
Work only had the capability of distracting me a little. I would find myself sitting at my desk and thinking about Jamie and our last night together. How we had both come apart. And how it had finally sunk into my thick skull that what I was doing to him wasn’t fair. He had a parish to care for, a promise to uphold. And it killed him every time he betrayed that promise. I had seen it in his eyes that night, felt it in his embrace as he held me, his heart pounding against mine. I cared about him too much, so much that I had to let him go.
“Is it soda withdrawal or food deprivation that’s causing that blank stare?”
I looked up to find Justin in my doorway holding a white plastic bag and a six pack of Pepsi. “You didn’t say no to a dinner in.” Justin held up the bag and soda and smiled. I didn’t want to have dinner with him, even if it was just in my office where nothing could happen. But my traitorous stomach growled, making that smile of his grow. “I will take that grumble as a yes.”
I waved my imaginary white flag. “I am hungry and I did just drain the last of my soda,” I conceded, gesturing to the table opposite of my desk.
“Well, for once my timing is spot on.” He unloaded the bag and set several Chinese food containers on the table. The aroma coming from them made my mouth water, and my stomach rumbled once again.
“When was the last time you ate something?” Justin asked. He proceeded to scoop brown rice onto two paper plates while I struggled to remember.
“Not sure. This morning, I think. Who knows? All I want to do is wrap this case up so I don’t have to think about it over the holiday.” I took a seat at the table and peered into the containers. “How did you know that I love Chinese food?”
“I didn’t. I was taking a risk,” he grinned as he winked at me.
It was a swoon-worthy wink. One that should have turned my insides to goo. But it didn’t, and that made me both sad and angry. I wanted to like Justin. I also wanted to know what it was like to wake up in the morning not missing Jamie. Feeling defeated, I piled the Mongolian beef and sesame chicken onto my plate.
“So how’s your case going?” I asked. Talking about work was safe and made for easy conversation. I dug into my dinner—or late night snack, as it was—and savored the flavors both dishes offered.
“Could be better. A few of my witnesses have bailed out on me. Pretty soon it’s going to be solely a he-said-she-said, and we all know how that can go.” I did know the possible outcome for that scenario. Justin’s client was a twenty-three-year-old woman who claimed that her parish priest had sexually assaulted her. The priest’s claim was that although it was wrong to have pursued her due to his vow of celibacy, what they had done physically had been completely consensual.
“What do you think? You think he did it?” I asked.
“Well, he is a Catholic priest. So that’s a nasty strike against him right there.”
My appetite suddenly went to shit. The rice rolling around in my mouth felt like tiny, tasteless pebbles. “Are you alright?” Justin asked. “Does the food taste okay?”
I forced the food down and chased it with a gulp of Pepsi. “Oh, it’s fine. Great, actually. I think I just swallowed a hot pepper or something,” I said, lying out of my ass.
Justin’s smile faded and I found him staring at me, studying me. “I offended you, haven’t I?” he asked.
“No. Why do you think that?” I asked, pushing my food around with my fork.
“My jab at the Catholic priest. That bothered you,” he said.
I didn’t look up from my plate and continued to set up separate camps for my beef and chicken. I told myself to stay quiet or better yet, to lie and deny. But by doing that . . . well, I felt like I was abandoning Jamie. And I couldn’t do that. “Not all Catholic priests commit grievous sins. Yes, they are men, which means they are not infallible. But I do believe that most men who join the priesthood are good men who just want to do good work.”
“Like your stepbrother Jamie?” he asked. I wanted to think that I was being paranoid but I swore I heard suspicion in his voice. I looked up and locked eyes with him. The suspicion in his voice seemed to have migrated to his eyes, causing those knots in my stomach to twist every which way.
I urged myself to take a deep breath. To calm down. All the while I told myself that Justin couldn’t know about Jamie. There was no possible way. My emotions were in total disarray. That was all. “Yes. I do think Jamie joined the priesthood because he wanted to do good work and help people.”
“Sounds more like a saint than a man,” he said, chuckling.
The sound hurt my ears. I wanted this conversation to end. I brought up a topic that I knew interested Justin. “So what will you do if you become partner?”
Justin’s eyes lit up. “Oh. Are you throwing in the towel? Have you seen the writing on the wall?” he asked, scooping out a second helping of sesame chicken onto his plate.
“No, just trying to be polite to the man who saved me from starvation tonight.” I was quickly shoveling food into my mouth at this point. I wanted to get back to work. But mostly I was tired of pretending to be nice.
“Do you seriously want this? To become partner? To take on a level of responsibility that you know can be daunting and often unmanageable? I know you brought in some huge numbers at your previous firm and were lured here by Banks and Lowenstein because of it, but do you really think you’re up for the challenge?” His eyes scanned my face, reminding me of the way he primed jurors in the courtroom.
I no longer dreamed of being made partner. But I could easily see what Justin was doing and it pissed me off. So much so that it made me want him to sweat it out even longer. “I would consider it.” I kept a smile on my face the entire time, but my heart thumped loudly in my chest as adrenaline pumped through my veins. “Does that scare you, Justin?”
Who the hell did he think he was? Yes, he was a good attorney and had raked in a lot of money for Banks and Lowenstein, but so had I. And I wasn’t going to sit here quietly while he tried to discourage me or worse, coax me into second-guessing myself.
“No,” he said. He stood and tossed all our trash into the plastic bag he’d carried in. Again, that annoying smile of his was back.
“No? Then why try to dissuade me? Or are you pulling a Michael Corleone from The Godfather?” I asked, matching his smile perfectly.
Justin raised a brow. “A Michael Corleone?”
“Yes. How did he say it exactly?” I thumped my finger against my chin as I sat back in my chair. “He said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I believe that was the quote.” Justin’s eyes darkened and his lips curled. He looked like he wanted to pounce, but to hurt or play, I couldn’t tell.
To play and then hurt.
I didn’t know where that thought came from, but all of a sudden I was happy that we weren’t the only people left on the third floor.
“Then I guess I prefer us to be enemies. Because I would definitely enjoy getting closer to you, Eva.”
What the hell had happened? This wasn’t our typical flirtatious banter. Somewhere, somehow it had taken a turn down some path that gave me the fucking creeps. “Thank you for dinner, Justin, but I have to get back to work . . . which means so do you.” I didn’t look at him but I knew that he was staring at my ass as I walked back to my desk. And it made me want to heave. I stared at my computer screen and pretended to be engrossed.
“You’re welcome, Eva.”
I only looked up when I heard his footfalls fade out of earshot.