NEVER STOP DREAMING
New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t do.
~ Empire State of Mind
Hunter
“ARE YOU STILL working?” Fitz pokes his head into my office.
Looking at the time, I shake my head, save my document and close my laptop. “No, I can continue tomorrow. What’s up?”
“We haven’t talked since we came back from Brazil.” He saunters inside, closing the door behind him. “You said that you wanted to make some changes.”
Our practice focuses on corporate law. Mainly because our own corporation needed lawyers we could trust. Who better than Fitz and myself? From time to time, I’ve stepped out of corporate law and practiced some family and worker’s compensation law. While traveling, I began asking myself questions. What do I want to do? Who do I want to be? Law is broad, and not many can pay someone three hundred dollars an hour for legal advice or to defend them.
“I want to add lawyers who can handle family law and civil litigation.” I cross my arms, clamping my emotions down. He shouldn’t know that I’m already raging as I expect his continuous condescending tone. Fuck, I’m scared he might kick me out because he’s been doing all this shit all by himself for the past months. “We are a strong firm, and it wouldn’t be hard to gain clients in those areas.”
“Okay.” He takes a seat on the chair in front of my desk, leans back and waits for me.
“With new lawyers joining, we can also add pro bono cases.”
His jaw twitches, and his eyebrows knit together. “Who is going to work those cases?”
“Everyone working in this firm should be required to work one a month—at least,” I respond, opening my computer back up and printing the plan I had been working on for the past couple of months. “We can make it a condition to earn their monthly bonus.”
I turn around to grab the papers from the printer and hand them to him. Fitz takes them, going through each one. The time ticks, his eyes scan through the pages. He shakes and nods every few seconds. At least it feels that way to me. Once he finishes, he stacks them and sets them on top of my desk. His eyes narrow. Fuck, the last lines. He didn’t like them. Well, I don’t fucking care.
Bracing myself for his reaction, I grab the edge of my desk. There are plenty of law firms that would hire me. I can start my own practice and do whatever the fuck I want. He either starts seeing me as his partner, or I’m done.
“So he either accepts, or he can fuck himself?” His brow arches. “Not very professional, little brother. I admit, up until last year we’ve been treating you like a kid. For that, I apologize.”
Blood pounds in my temples as I process his words. Not what I expected to hear from him. “What are you saying?”
“You worked your ass off with our international clients,” he says, tilting his head. “I expect you’ll keep working the same, because this is your firm, too.”
“We’re good then?” I point at the papers. “You are telling me that as early as tonight, I can recruit new lawyers.”
“As long as you’re the one in charge of that side of the firm.” He nods in approval. Then, he lifts his finger. “We have to discuss the new hires, though, and we can add anything, but criminal law.”
Fitz appears sincere, but after all these years, he’s just giving in without a fight? “Are you for real? Just like that, no questions asked. What’s the catch?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re babysitting the new lawyers. That’s the only catch.” Standing up, he points at the door. “Join us for dinner.”
“Us?”
“Scott, Harrison, and Hazel. You didn’t answer the invite.”
Pulling my phone, I check all the miss calls and texts.
HAZEL: Dinner at Gramps tonight.
HARRISON: I’m in.
SCOTT: What time?
FITZ: Who’s cooking? Please, say not you.
HAZEL: I prepare a killer lasagna, but tonight, it’s takeout.
FITZ: Most of what you prepare is food to kill. I almost died of food poisoning the last time you cooked.
SCOTT: What time?
HAZEL: I arrive home around 7. Should we say, 7:30?
HAZEL: The meat you brought was bad, Fitz. We almost died because of you. Not my cooking.
HARRISON: I vote for Tacos. Heck, I’ll bring them.
HAZEL: Yes! Let’s do Mexican Monday.
Willow didn’t respond even though she’s part of the group chat. Is she not going because of me? Yesterday morning, when I dropped her off, she asked for a little space. She needed time with her grandfather and her therapist. Too many things had happened at once. Our week had been intense, and we were both too demanding of the other.
“As much as I need to be in your arms, I also know I need time to myself. Too much happened at once.” She kissed me; it was soft, loving. “I want to make sure this is something I can handle now. You mean too much to take a step without being sure of it.”
I hate it. But I understand, and I promised not to pressure her.
“Take your time, gorgeous.” I cupped her face, kissing her lips lightly. “I warn you, once you’re back home, I won’t let you leave again.”
She stared wide-eyed for two full heartbeats and smiled. Extending her hand, she said, “Sounds like a good compromise, Mr. Everhart.”
I shook back. “We can seal the deal before I leave. One last time for the road.”
“That’s what you said in Brazil, then at the airports, and on the planes.” She showed me three fingers. “What did you call it after the third time?”
I winked at her. “The platinum mile-high club.”
ME: Are you not going to dinner?
WILLOW: I am, why?
ME: You didn’t respond to the texts on the group chat.
WILLOW: I didn’t see the point of saying yes. I’ll be eating at home.
HUNTER: Is it okay if I join?
WILLOW: Do you want to join?
ME: Only if it’s not weird.
WILLOW: It shouldn’t be weird. We are keeping things friendly.
ME: Friendly?
WILLOW: As in you keep your hands and your dirty thoughts to yourself.
ME: I can do that, just don’t try to read my mind. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I had you. They are getting dirtier by second.
WILLOW: KEEP THEM TO YOURSELF!
“I’ll join,” I say, closing my computer. “Harrison should be arriving with the food soon. Might as well head there now.”
“Are you planning on talking about you and Willow?”
I shake my head, locking my door.
“Everyone is aware of what’s been happening the last few weeks,” he continues, not dropping the subject. “I just don’t get why she didn’t stay with you last night.”
“Drop it, Fitzhenry. Get a life. Maybe you should try to settle down.” I call the elevator and look at him.
“Settling down isn’t in my vocabulary.” He steps inside as the doors slide open. “I never settle. That’s how I win the big bucks.”