Digging through a bazillion boxes in my parent’s garage looking for where my formal wear had wound up during the catastrophe that was losing my job wasn’t the way I planned to spend my Saturday. I had been such a hot mess of anger, embarrassment, and fear that week I was packing, that I wasn’t even sure if I had, in fact, packed it. For all I knew, it was sitting in the middle of a landfill somewhere making some rodents’ home extra luxurious.

I’d managed to label exactly zero boxes, and so far, I had opened and closed six boxes of books, three boxes of kitchen items, and a box of garbage. Yes, in my haze, I had managed to box up the bedroom waste basket, unemptied. Thank goodness for small favors—it only contained a few tissues and the wrapper from a new set of pens, not the kitchen trash complete with egg shells and who knew what.

The next box started off benign enough. A few DVDs of Dr. Who, a dictionary, and a stuffed dog I’d had since I was a small child and couldn’t bring myself to part with. But below those, I came found my I’m a Lawyer – What’s your superpower? mug. It was a cheap novelty item, yet the impact of coming face to face with it would’ve brought me to my knees had I not already been on the ground.

I wasn’t a lawyer now, though I had put all my time an energy into being one. It had been the thing that gave me my worth after my world crumbled. Any good psychologist will tell you that attaching your worth to something like a job only led to instability, but I couldn’t help it. I was a lawyer. Except I no longer was. Now I was an almost-paralegal working a sort-of-kind-of job for my dad as he waited to marry me off.

I remembered the day I got that silly mug. Mr. Fips had left it on my desk while I was still an intern waiting for my bar results. He had some connections, and knew I had passed before I did. Mr. Fips was the most amazing mentor one could ask for, and it had hurt that he had believed them over me. Not that he’d ever say that to my face. He was a kind man, even if he hadn’t stood up for me when it all went down. Not that he’d had much of a chance; he’d been working on a high profile case that included a sequestered jury and a media circus. I’d almost called him a couple of times since things went south, but chickened out every blasted time. Nothing good could come of that. Some dogs were best left lying.

I slammed that box closed and pulled out three more before hitting the jackpot… or so I thought before I pulled out my once lavish suit. Packed in the box with my king-sized sheets, it sat neatly folded on top, but as I reached into the box a high pitched squeak filled my ears. It didn’t take long for me to discover not just a mouse, but an entire nest of babies. The box was at the curb within moments and I was in the shower boiling away the nasties. I could handle a lot. I’d even captured a centipede in a canning jar with ease, but mice—they were a big old nope.

A half hour later, I was in my car headed to a rental place, hoping it didn’t take too much of my savings to rent a decent tux. It wasn’t like I could back out now. Not only had I declined a date, but I’d declared that I miraculously had one. Mother was going to be ripping mad when I showed up without a hottie on my arm, but I’d face her wrath over going out with McCreepster any day.

The rental place was oddly crowded and I took my time looking over their options. I knew what I was going to pick before walking in, but waiting there just standing felt odd.

“I like the purple one, personally.” My head snapped back as a voice from my past filled my ears.

“Jace. I haven’t seen you since—” I didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Since our friendship dissolved after some stupid test results because that was how it went down and it wasn’t something I’d been proud of.

“Since we were young asshats?” He winked. Good old Jace, always so forgiving of everyone, except himself.

“Yeah that. You look—pregnant.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. What was wrong with me? For all I knew he could have a beer gut—or worse, a tumor. You never mention a pregnancy unless you are darn tootin’ sure.

“It’s why I’m here. The stupid gala equals formal wear and there is no way I’m buying a paternity tux.” He was practically glowing, the happiness radiating off of him. It did my heart good to see him like this. We might not have stayed in contact, but he always held a place in my heart and I would always love him.

“I had a mouse nest in mine.” I shrugged and he burst out laughing.

“As if fate was all, ‘He best not wear that thing again.’”

I couldn’t help but join in with his laughter. He wasn’t wrong. If there was one way to assure I’d never touch something, it would be to have a mouse guard it.

We spent the next two hours catching up, mostly on his amazing new life as a mate and a father, trying on over the top tuxes before settling on the basic ones we both knew we’d end up with, and laughing. I needed that. Maybe the mice were a good thing. Never mind. That was plum crazy talk. But seeing Jace again after all these years, especially doing well, eased the ragged edges of my heart.

Now if only I could make the rest of my life flow as easily as the conversation between Jace and I, then life would be good. Scratch that. It would be amazing.