Page 57 of The Wedding Situation Romance

But as I lay in bed that night, my bags packed for a flight that I didn’t even know about thirty-six hours ago to a place I am only just now researching for the first time, I’m not so sure. I’m not sure if I can pretend I’m not his date. I’m not sure I can convince myself that these weddings have been strictly business, especially considering most of them have ended in pleasure (glorious, heated, jaw-dropping pleasure). And I’m not sure we are going to play by the rules considering we never have.

But there is one thing I know for sure.

I need his money. I need to stick to the contract. For my clients. For Ashley specifically. Because for some reason, her marriage feels personal to me. Something about her whole case, knowing they both have lawyers, my father being one of them, I can’t fail her. I just can’t. If ever I had a client that I wanted to succeed, it’s them. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. Even if it means resisting sex with the hottest guy I’ve ever gone out with.

Chapter 24

Reid

I would absolutely be lyingif I said I wasn’t a bit on edge about this next wedding.

For one, I have a lot of loose ends flying about on the work front for a casual trip south for a wedding for a man whom I just met. Unfortunately, networking comes with the territory in this industry. Same firm or not, anyone who is not your friend is your competition. And while I am not intimidated by anyone else (no clients have ever chosen me second) the rumor mill is a busy one, and I can’t have people talking shit about me behind my back. Especially in a world where most people dislike you.

All of that said, the wedding is mandatory, and so is this trip, inconvenient or not. Still, it doesn’t stop me from staying in touch with my clients. Michael Overholt specifically. And not just because he can actually afford me (a task that is not a small one). But because his wife’s lawyer is one of my biggest rivals. And because his mouth has a way of making him look very stupid, which can make me look stupid if this case doesn’t go seamlessly in my favor.

So I use the five minutes my driver is stuck in airport traffic to call Michael.

“Reid. Hello. I was actually going to call you today. Have you left for the Carolinas yet? I hear the weather down there is amazing right now. And here we are about to get hit but a storm,” he chuckles.

He’s talking too much.

Rambling.

And in my experience, rambling can only mean one thing. Something is up. Something that, if I had to guess by the nervousness in his tone, is not good. Not for me, or the case, or my mood.

“Where are we on the therapy thing, Michael?” I ask, cutting right to the chase. “She’s not going to budge on it, and unless you want this divorce to cost you athirdmortgage, I suggest we make it as short as possible.”

I put emphasis on the word third. Because I’m still not cool with the fact that he didn’t mention the vacation home, a distant and yet very important asset in a messy divorce. Hidden assets make lawyers look like asses. And nobody is going to make me look like an ass.

“It’s funny you should mention that,” he chuckles. With every word, I dislike the direction of this conversation more and more. “We went to our first therapy session last night.”

“OK… And?” no I can definitely tell where this is going, and I absolutely do not like it. There is an optimism in his voice that wasn’t there before, an optimism that never works to my benefitas a divorce lawyer. Because optimism usually means hope. And hope means that he is second-guessing things.

“And I guess I’m surprised how well it went,” Michael tells me. And my jaw clenches even tighter than it was before. “I always thought that therapy, specifically couples therapy, was just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo.”

“That’s because it is,” I tell him flatly.

“But now that I’ve gone to one of the sessions with Ashley, I’m kind of having second thoughts.”

And there it is. The bomb that I hadn’t thought about detonating. My worst fear. That my client would actually listen to the therapist and his wife and come to his senses, as I’m sure they put it. In reality, the most sensible thing he possibly could’ve done was walking in my office to start with.

Of course, at this point, he’s been brainwashed enough not to believe that anymore.

“You know they’re fucking with you?” I ask, and I know that isn’t the most professional way to talk to a client. I don’t wanna go as far as to say that I’m desperate, but there’s no way I can win a case if my client is on the same side as the opposing client.

“What do you mean?” Michael asks, and I let out a heavy sigh. I make no point of hiding it. I’m finding that with this particular person; I have to talk the way I would talk to a teenage boy.

“That was Bowen’s plan all along. It was your wife’s plan all along. She’s pissed off about the vacation home and the fact that if I have it my way, and mind you, I usually do have it my way, she will get a lot less out of the divorce than she wants to. Because I do think we have a strong case if we play ourcards right. And at this point, I’m not convinced that you’re even playing the same tune as me at all.”

Are my words manipulative? You could say that, but also the man is switching teams right in the middle of the game. A game that I refused to lose. Not just because I believe that these two should not be together and that they are barely towards a divorce at some point, whether it’s now or in the future. But because I never, and I mean never, raise a white flag in a courtroom with Grant Bowen. That doesn’t mean that I have never lost a case against him. He is skilled enough that I can’t make that claim. But I have never surrendered.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, and I can tell that he is rubbing his temples and frustration. “There was something about this therapist. About the entire program. It just made me think that maybe divorce isn’t the answer.”

“Of course divorce is the answer!” I boom as my driver slams on his brakes. Airport traffic really is a nightmare, especially in the overcrowded, overpopulated fine state of New York. “They are brainwashing you. The therapist, your wife, and her lawyer.”

“What is it with you and that lawyer?” He questions. “There definitely seemed like there was some beef between the two of you in the conference room the other day.”

I grit my teeth. “Of course there was beef between the two of us,” I tell him impatiently. “He’s the opposing lawyer.”