shifting his ass to someone else's office first thing.
"Nothing," I grumble as I wave my hand at him. "Go back to your office."
He doesn't take offense at how gruff the words are. "Call me if you need anything."
By his tone, you'd think that I'd suffered a personal loss this morning. I guess in a way I had. My girlfriend has pushed me into a corner. She's made it crystal clear that she's never going to share the secrets that have defined her past.
The ringing of my desk phone jars me back into the reality of the moment. I reach for it.
"Mr. Moore, Mr. Ryan is here."
"Let him in."
I'd called Garrett this morning on my way into the office. I'd walked. Normally I'd take the subway but I was up early and knew that both the exercise and fresh air wouldn't hurt my mood. It was a wasted effort though. After trying to weave my way through a host of tourists on Central Park South, I almost lost it. Bad moods and pedestrian traffic don't mix in my world.
"Sorry I missed your call." He walks through the open door of my office. "Do you want this shut?"
I nod. "Close it and sit down."
"You're chipper," he jokes. "What the fuck is going on with you?"
Confiding in Garrett isn't my first choice. My first choice is my sister, Sandra. When I called her this morning she wasted no time in informing me that both her kids were down with the flu. She was stressed, at her wit's end and completely preoccupied. I couldn't dump anything else into her lap.
"You sounded pissed on the phone," he continues. "Is it Jessica?"
I nod. This is the point where I tell him that I have doubts about the woman I've been begging to marry me for the past six months. I have to swallow my pride if I'm going to get his input. I need to let go and just spill it. "It's her."
"Is it about Governor Lane?" he asks, doing little to cover his know-it-all attitude. "I thought there was something going on there."
I knew this was a bad idea. What the fuck was I expecting when I called Garrett? There's no way in hell I can tell him what's going on with Jessica without him throwing it all back in my face. He's never believed we were a good fit. He knows I love her but he's told me more than once that I can do better than her. He's wrong. "We just had an argument," I try to sound nonchalant. "I overreacted when I called you."
He eyes me up from across the desk. "That's bullshit."
"Bullshit?" I crack a smile as I toss the word back at him.
"You were torn up on the phone." He taps his index finger on the edge of the desk. "You didn't call me because you two argued. It's more than that."
He's right. We both know it. The problem is that I feel like I'm betraying Jessica. I can't do that. Regardless of how much she shuts me out, I can't start sharing what's happening between us with just anyone. I can't do that to her. "It's more than that," I lie. "I lost a client this morning."
"I don't blame them," he chuckles. "I'd fire you too if you were my lawyer."
"Not fired." I shake my head. "My client died."
"Fuck." He pulls in a heavy breath. "That's rough man."
I turn my chair so I facing the bank of windows that overlook the city. He knows Mr. Wilkinson. Garrett is the one who recommended me to him. I don't want to get into the details of his death right now. "You never know when it will be the end. One day you're making phone calls, meeting with people, and living your life and then you go to sleep and never wake up."
"How old was he?"
"Older," I toss the word behind me. "He had great grandchildren."
I hear him shift in the chair. "He lived a long life. Not everyone can say that."
"You're right," I acquiesce. Mr. Wilkinson had lived longer than most people can expect to. He lived a life that was filled with love and family. He'd worked hard to provide for the people he loved and then at the end he died with the worry that it was all stolen from him.
"What happens to his case now?"
I stare straight ahead, my eyes locked on the streams of people filling the
"Nothing," I grumble as I wave my hand at him. "Go back to your office."
He doesn't take offense at how gruff the words are. "Call me if you need anything."
By his tone, you'd think that I'd suffered a personal loss this morning. I guess in a way I had. My girlfriend has pushed me into a corner. She's made it crystal clear that she's never going to share the secrets that have defined her past.
The ringing of my desk phone jars me back into the reality of the moment. I reach for it.
"Mr. Moore, Mr. Ryan is here."
"Let him in."
I'd called Garrett this morning on my way into the office. I'd walked. Normally I'd take the subway but I was up early and knew that both the exercise and fresh air wouldn't hurt my mood. It was a wasted effort though. After trying to weave my way through a host of tourists on Central Park South, I almost lost it. Bad moods and pedestrian traffic don't mix in my world.
"Sorry I missed your call." He walks through the open door of my office. "Do you want this shut?"
I nod. "Close it and sit down."
"You're chipper," he jokes. "What the fuck is going on with you?"
Confiding in Garrett isn't my first choice. My first choice is my sister, Sandra. When I called her this morning she wasted no time in informing me that both her kids were down with the flu. She was stressed, at her wit's end and completely preoccupied. I couldn't dump anything else into her lap.
"You sounded pissed on the phone," he continues. "Is it Jessica?"
I nod. This is the point where I tell him that I have doubts about the woman I've been begging to marry me for the past six months. I have to swallow my pride if I'm going to get his input. I need to let go and just spill it. "It's her."
"Is it about Governor Lane?" he asks, doing little to cover his know-it-all attitude. "I thought there was something going on there."
I knew this was a bad idea. What the fuck was I expecting when I called Garrett? There's no way in hell I can tell him what's going on with Jessica without him throwing it all back in my face. He's never believed we were a good fit. He knows I love her but he's told me more than once that I can do better than her. He's wrong. "We just had an argument," I try to sound nonchalant. "I overreacted when I called you."
He eyes me up from across the desk. "That's bullshit."
"Bullshit?" I crack a smile as I toss the word back at him.
"You were torn up on the phone." He taps his index finger on the edge of the desk. "You didn't call me because you two argued. It's more than that."
He's right. We both know it. The problem is that I feel like I'm betraying Jessica. I can't do that. Regardless of how much she shuts me out, I can't start sharing what's happening between us with just anyone. I can't do that to her. "It's more than that," I lie. "I lost a client this morning."
"I don't blame them," he chuckles. "I'd fire you too if you were my lawyer."
"Not fired." I shake my head. "My client died."
"Fuck." He pulls in a heavy breath. "That's rough man."
I turn my chair so I facing the bank of windows that overlook the city. He knows Mr. Wilkinson. Garrett is the one who recommended me to him. I don't want to get into the details of his death right now. "You never know when it will be the end. One day you're making phone calls, meeting with people, and living your life and then you go to sleep and never wake up."
"How old was he?"
"Older," I toss the word behind me. "He had great grandchildren."
I hear him shift in the chair. "He lived a long life. Not everyone can say that."
"You're right," I acquiesce. Mr. Wilkinson had lived longer than most people can expect to. He lived a life that was filled with love and family. He'd worked hard to provide for the people he loved and then at the end he died with the worry that it was all stolen from him.
"What happens to his case now?"
I stare straight ahead, my eyes locked on the streams of people filling the
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