Ryker
Eighteen months later
“Where are we going?”
I’m leading Justine down a sidewalk, but with the blindfold over her eyes, she can’t see a damn thing. I turn her in the direction I want her to be facing, and pause. I really fucking hope she likes this.
I pull the blindfold away from her eyes and point across the street. “There. That’s where we’re going.”
She blinks twice and confusion is clear on her features—until she sees the sign.
PORTER LAW CLINIC
Justine’s head jerks around toward me. “What is that? Did you do that?”
I nod. “Yeah. I did that.”
She looks from me to the sign and then back to me again. “Are you serious?”
The surprise and excitement and disbelief on her face is everything I wanted to see. As a matter of fact, it’s the same expression she had when the university’s mail room tracked her down to let her know they’d been holding a letter for over a month that was sent to the dorm she lived in during our first year of law school—the last address her Gramps had for her.
The life insurance check wiped out everything she owed my father and enough to cover the rest of her tuition for the year. She graduated debt-free, summa cum laude, just like she and her gramps had dreamed about. I was proud as hell of her.
I was also proud when she got her job at Legal Aid after we both found out we passed the bar exam, and I started clerking at the court of appeals. But three months ago, budgets were slashed and Justine’s position was cut. I expected her to be brokenhearted, but that wasn’t the case. She finally admitted she’d been frustrated for months because of all the bureaucracy involved in her job, and she wasn’t making the difference she’d hoped to make.
She told me about her new dream—to have her own firm. To help clients who didn’t qualify for low-income assistance but couldn’t afford to pay for big-firm help. She wanted no rules except for the ones she put in place herself.
So she started working out of our condo—the one she’d moved into with me shortly after my father’s press conference. However, meeting clients at Unwired wasn’t exactly the most glamorous option.
So I decided to make her dream a true reality.
“You want to see the inside?”
“Are you nuts? Of course I do.” She presses both hands to her face and looks from the sign to me again. “I can’t believe it’s real. You did this. I can’t believe . . . I don’t know what to say.”
I thread my fingers through hers and pull her across the quiet street to the front door of her new office. Fishing the keys from my pocket, I hand them to her. I even picked out the keychain specifically for her—it’s a small Wonder Woman Pez dispenser.
Her laugh echoes down the street, and it’s my favorite sound.
“Really?”
“You think that Wonder Woman costume was forgettable? No way in hell.”
Her hand shakes as she pushes the key into the lock and turns it. The glass door opens, and we step inside the small waiting area.
“If you hate the furniture, they’ll let us swap it out for something different.” I picked simple chrome-and-black chairs with a matching receptionist’s desk.
She’s practically bouncing with excitement when she unlocks the door to the interior office and peeks into the two small conference rooms and two offices. The biggest office has two desks facing each other.
Justine looks at me in confusion.
“I thought you might want a partner in crime.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
I nod. “There’s no one I’d rather work with, baby.”
“But you don’t want to work at a firm.” She’s only half right.
“I didn’t want to work at a big firm, but you sold me on making a difference. Let’s do it together.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
Justine throws herself at me and I lift her up in my arms.
“I love you so much. Thank you for this.”
“I’d do anything for you.”
When I finally set her down, she goes through the office, opening every door and drawer. Her squeals of excitement reassure me that I made the right decision.
Now, I just can’t wait to see what she says when she finds the bride Pez dispenser with the ring box . . .
The End
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