Page 18 of Shades of Grey & Gold

I close my eyes.

The last thing I think before I finally fall asleep there on the couch, wrapped in a throw blanket with my cold tea on the coffee table, is that I don’t actually know what I’m going to do about any of this.

But for the first time in a long time, I feel excited. Because I think I might want to find out.

Chapter Seven

Max

Mondaymorningarriveswiththe cruelty of all Monday mornings that follow a Friday night you didn’t expect, and a weekend spent recovering.

I’m at my desk by eight-fifteen, which is earlier than usual, which tells me I’m trying to outrun my own thoughts. But they cannot be outrun.

I sigh and look at Bart, already asleep under my desk, and the coffee from Gabby’s next to my laptop is already half gone, and I am absolutely, completely, not thinkingabout Callan Reed standing outside Wildhorse with his hands on either side of my face telling me he came back for me just days ago.

I’m not thinking about it.

“Max!”

Carla’s voice carries down the stairs with the energy of someone who has been awake since five and already conquered part of the world. Just like every other day with Carla.

But I look up from my laptop, happy for the distraction.

“Can you come up here for a moment?”

I look at Debbie from across the room. Debbie looks at me. Neither of us says anything.

I take my coffee along for the ride.

Upstairs smells like Carla’s perfume and the slight cedar of old law books she keeps on the shelf behind the desk in her office more for atmosphere than reference. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her open one. She’s standing when I step in, which means whatever this is, she’s been pacing. And pacing is never good news. It’s either bad news in general or bad news for me because I will have to solve the problem.

“Sit, sit,” she says quickly, waving me into the chair across from her desk and sitting herself, folding her hands on the surface in the way she does when she’s about to deliver something she’s rehearsed. “So. I have some news and I want to get ahead of it before you hear it from someone else.”

I wait. She rolls her lips together. This is her tell. I noticed it fairly quickly when I started working for her, and she does a pretty good job of reining it in when we are around opposing counsel and clients, but here in the office, she rolls her lips and we know she’s holding something back.

I brace myself.

“Richard Ellison came to see me on Friday, as you know.” She pauses. “He made me an offer. A good one. He wants to fold our firm into Ellison and Parker—location, caseload, clients, the works. His firm takes the overhead, we keep our cases, I get a senior partnership arrangement that is, frankly, very generous, no name on the wall or anything, but you know that’s not my thing.”

She says this last part in the careful tone of someone trying not to sound as excited as they are, but talks fast in the way that tells me she’s trying to push through the news rapidly.

I put my coffee down very slowly. “And you’re telling me this because…”

“Because you’d be included in the arrangement, obviously. You’d have a full-time position at E and P, proper salary, benefits, the whole thing.” She leans forward slightly. “Max, it’s a significant step up from what I can offer you here. The cases alone—the scope of what Richard’s firm handles—opportunity for promotions, travel—”

“Where.” The word comes out flat because I already know the answer.

She blinks. “Oh!” She sounds excited, and my stomach turns as she points out the window. “The new offices. End of Main, just right down the block.”

I look out the window. I look back at her.

“I know there’s history,” she says it carefully. “With Patrick.”

“With Patrick,” I repeat, not looking at her as much as through her.

“And I want you to know that any concerns you have about the arrangement, I’m happy to advocate for you. You could come to work in the Wilmington satellite office with me, maybe? I can speak to Richard directly about your role, about boundaries, about whatever you need—”

“That’s very kind.” I stand up, done with the conversation, my mind already racing. “But I know Richard. I’ll handle it myself.”