by Vivian Ward
“No, please. Come in. I was hoping I’d get another chance to talk to you,” I say, waving my hand for her to come in. “Would you like me to order you something?” I offer after she reluctantly comes inside.
“Actually, I came over to see if you wanted to eat with me downstairs.”
“Oh?” I ask, sitting on the bed and pat the mattress for her to sit next to me.
“Look,” she begins, sitting next to me. “I know I might’ve come off as a little abrasive earlier and I wanted to apologize.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Hold that thought,” I say, getting up to answer the door. I grab my tray and place it on the table near the TV. “Would you like me to order you something?” I offer again.
“No, I’m good. I just wanted to come apologize. I know you’re busy so I’ll leave you be,” she says, getting up off the bed.
Shit! She thinks I’m blowing her off.
“Fuck the food, Amy. You don’t need to apologize. Tell me what’s going on,” I say, grabbing her arm. “It’s all right. You can talk to me, you know?” I want her to know I’m interested and that I do care. I’m not some typical asshole whose main goal in life is to get women in the sack.
Bursting into tears, she completely breaks down. I don’t know what’s going on but I feel awful for her. “Amy, Amy,” I coo, wiping her tears away with my thumbs. “What’s going on?”
She reaches for me and I instinctively pull her to my chest, holding her there to heal and protect her from whatever is upsetting her. “My s-s-sister, Karen, went and cleaned out our mom’s house last night. She t-t-took everything,” she sobs into my shirt.
“What? Why would she do that?” I ask.
“Because she’s a bitch. She’s always been like this, and when mom died, she didn’t leave a will and she thinks she’s entitled to all of it—like I don’t exist.” She draws in a deep breath, “And I was always the one who took care of mom! She was nowhere to be found when mom was dying. No, that bitch was always up our dad’s drunk, cheating ass, saying he could do no wrong as he ran around on our poor mom and drank all of the money away. Of course, this was all before she found her ‘amazing’ husband and ran off and got hitched. She didn’t even invite us to the wedding! Can you believe that?!”
“Amy, I’m so sorry,” I say, rubbing her back.
“Yeah, and I guess she heard or found out that I was out of town this weekend and went over there to clean the place out, even though I am working with an attorney! I asked my roommate to keep an eye on it and gave her the key, and when she drove by there last night, she texted me right away. That’s why my phone was buzzing all night.”
As I listen to her go on her tangent about her sister, it raises more questions than answers. “Wait,” I stop her. “You said you’re working with an attorney and she did all this?”
“Well, sort of,” her eyes cast down at the floor. “I’ve been trying to work with an attorney. We haven’t actually done anything yet or filed with the courts.”
“Why not?” I ask. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. When you’re dealing with a mourning family, time is of the essence and her lawyer should’ve jumped on the ball from the moment she hired him or her.
“I told you, I work and go to school. I don’t have a lot of time and I had to save up to pay the retainer fee. Unfortunately, I had to go with an attorney that I could afford and he’s backed up because he takes on so many clients because his rates are cheaper than most.”
“Uh-uh,” I shake my head no. “From here on out, I’ll take care of your case.”
“No,” she cuts me off. “I don’t need your pity or charity. I’m capable of taking care of things myself. I’ve always done it so I’m used to it,” she shrugs.
Fuck, I hate that she’s had such a rough life and is dealing with all of this. Even though we just met, I can feel her hurting, and it makes my chest heavy. I want to lift that burden away from her. Someone needs to take care of Amy for a change—someone besides herself.
“It’s not pity or charity, Amy. I’m going to help you out here and you don’t have to pay me a cent.”
Her jaw drops open. “You can’t do that! We had sex together. Isn’t that illegal or something? Having sex with your clients?”
Chapter 9
Amy
Greg isn’t listening to one word that I say. Instead, he just keeps insisting that he’ll represent me in court and make sure that I get what I’m entitled to so that Karen doesn’t get it all while I sit back with nothing to remind me of mom.
“There are some code of ethics that we take when we become an attorney but there are also some exceptions,” he retorts. “And this is a case where there is an exception.”
“No,” I wave my hand. “As soon as Karen finds out that I fucked my lawyer, she’ll bring it up in court to make sure that I lose. No thanks.”
“How would she know if we had sex?”
“I don’t know, she has a way of finding out everything! I’m not sure how she does it, but she does. I can’t risk losing everything of mom’s,” I insist.
“Amy, baby, calm down. Take a deep breath and listen to me. Okay?” He says, putting his hands on my arms as he sits me down on the bed with him.
“What?” I say, trying not to lose my shit. My emotions are running so high right now that all I want to do is leave and cry.
“Listen, there is a code saying that a sexual relationship cannot exist between an attorney and client—under certain circumstances,” he points out .”Now, before you start spouting off again, just listen. A lawyer cannot represent someone as a client and then start fucking them after they’ve been hired. That is not allowed, but,” he says, emphasizing the but, “an attorney can represent a loved one, including someone they’re already in a relationship with. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I think about it for a moment. “So, you’re saying that you can represent me even though we’ve had sex because we’ve already had sex?”
“Exactly!”
“This isn’t going to work,” I sigh. “I’m sorry for bothering you tonight,” I try to get up but he pulls my arm back down.
“Why won’t it? What’s the problem here? I’m an estate attorney who can also handle probate and you’re in need of representation.”
“Yeah, but you live in Illinois, right? And I’m in Missouri, plus I already hired a lawyer. I know there’s a state bar exam that you have to pass, which I presume you did for Illinois,” I say.
A smile spreads across his face. “Yes, that’s true. There is a state bar exam, but guess what? Since I live and work right on the Missouri-Illinois border, I took it for Illinois and Missouri so I could work on both sides of the river. Problem solved,” he acts like he’s dropping a microphone and just defeated his competition. It makes me laugh for a second—but only a second.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It sounds tempting but I don’t want to be indebted to you or have you feeling like you owe me one or something.”
“You won’t be indebted to me,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Amy, I see a smart, beautiful girl who’s a damsel in distress. I don’t get to play the hero role very often, so it’d be my honor to help you in your time of need.”
His kind words melt my heart. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“Positively, sure!” He stares at me for a beat. “Don’t make me beg.”
“How much would you charge per hour?” I ask. I want to make sure I can work enough to pay his rates.
“While most of my clients find me affordable, your money is no good to me. Zero dollars.” I cock my head in protest but he instantly shuts me up by planting his lips on mine.
Our lips crash together, consuming one another but my mind won’t shut off. I break the kiss, “I can’t let you do that,” I say. He instantly withdraws from me and begins to apologize for kissing me. “No!” I laugh. “Not the kiss. I mean that I can’t let you work for free. It wouldn’t be right. That would give me some s
ort of advantage or something. Wouldn’t it?”
He thinks about this for a moment. “Absolutely not,” he finally replies. “First off, nobody would know what you were or weren’t paying, and second, it’s never wrong to help a friend in need. In fact, I do several pro bono probate cases each year—on both sides of the river.”
“You do? Why?” I ask.
“Because, Amy, I believe in karma and being a good person. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have the funds to hire an attorney nor are they wealthy enough to set up wills in advance. Sadly, that’s most often the case—that people don’t have the money to plan ahead or the time to do so.” I’m in awe of his answer. “Your mom was right about you going to school. If you didn’t get some type of degree, you might end up spending the rest of your life working two jobs. She was looking out for you.”
Tears fill my eyes as the truth from his words sink in. He’s completely right. She was always watching out for me. “What do we need to do?” I whisper.
Chapter 10
Greg
With our mini vacation over, Amy and I quickly got to work on her case to present it to the court. Working with her over the past few weeks has been amazing. We’ve had several dinner dates and a few sleepovers, but I’d like to spend more time with her. She’s been on the fence about spending too much time together since I’ve taken her on as a client and it’s been driving me crazy to wait for the judge to make a final ruling so I can see her more.
Of course, her sister hired an attorney to argue her rights in this case but their arguments won’t hold up in court. Today is the day and I’m so ready for this to be over so Amy can finally put this ugly chapter behind her and we can start focusing on us while she gets on her with life.
When I see Amy walking up to the courthouse, I wave at her so she can spot me through the crowd of people occupying the cement steps.
“Are you ready?” I ask her.
“I’m so anxious,” she confesses. “My stomach has been in knots all morning—I almost threw up as I was getting ready. Out of all the things she took, what I want most is the pictures of our mom. I hope the judge awards them to me.”
“I know,” I say, putting my hand on the small of her back as we climb the stairs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get those and then some.”
Walking into the courtroom, her hateful sister glares at us but Amy does a good job appearing unnerved by her. I know she’s dying inside and wants to beat the living hell out of her for the torment she’s put her through but she stays focused.
After the judge calls us up to the bench, we make our opening arguments and present our cases. Her sister’s defense for stealing everything is implausible—she said her mom would’ve wanted her to have everything since she was the oldest. Their claim doesn’t hold a chance in hell.
We take a short recess for the judge to review the pictures of her mom’s house that Amy was able to supply before and after her sister took everything, as well as her old calendar book with all of her mom’s chemo appointments that she’d taken her to. While Amy could’ve asked for at least half of everything, she only asked the judge to award her the pictures, a couple of the family heirlooms, and the rights to her mom’s house so she can live in the home where she took care of her mother for so many years before she passed away.
Karen, on the other hand, asked for the house, the jewelry, the heirlooms, and most of everything else. She and her attorney believe they can use the pictures that Amy wants as a bargaining tool to show that she’s willing to give Amy some of what she’s asking for. It’s sick if you ask me.
“Court is now in session,” the judge smacks his gavel. “Would all parties please rise?”
All of us do as asked and await his final decision. Amy is practically holding her breath while Karen is carefree with an evil smirk on her face.
“After reviewing everything that has been submitted to the court, I have made my ruling,” he announces. “The court finds that Ms. Baker has sufficient evidence to prove her claims of caring for their ill mother while Mrs. Ross has no supporting evidence of why she’s behaved the way she did nor why she should receive the items that she stole from the mother’s residence.”
Oh, it’s so good that he’s using the word ‘stole’, I think to myself. This ruling is definitely going to go in our favor.
“Based on these findings, I’m awarding Ms. Baker all of the things requested in the original filing—including the residence of their deceased mother—plus half of everything else that Mrs. Ross took from the home.” The overweight judge scowls over the rim of his glasses as he looks straight at Karen. “Mrs. Ross,” he addresses her directly. “I’m ordering you to return these items to your sister within 30 days. If you do not comply with the court’s ruling, you will be found in contempt. Do you understand?”
Her mouth hasn’t stopped hanging open since the judge began his ruling. “But, your Honor,” she begins in a hasty tone.
“Mr. Fieldhouse,” the judge turns his attention to Karen’s attorney. “Please advise your client that my ruling is final and she may lose more than what she already has if she wants to continue her charade in my courtroom.”
Karen’s attorney faces her and shakes his head, ordering her to shut her mouth if she wants to keep what the judge has agreed to give her. Anger storms her eyes and if looks could kill, everyone in the courtroom would be dead.
“Ms. Baker, I find it rare that younger children like yourself take care of their sick or dying parents these days. I would like to commend you on solely providing your mother with the quality of life that she had before her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
That’s all it takes—someone recognizing how much she cared for her mom and saying they’re sorry for her loss—and the tears begin trickling down her cheeks. “Thank you, your Honor. My mom meant everything to me and I was glad to help her and provide her with some level of comfort during her last days.”
The judge strikes his gavel once again and kindly smiles at Amy. “Court is adjourned!”
Chapter 11
Amy
Since Greg is no longer my attorney, our relationship has taken on a whole new life. I’m so grateful that I let him talk me into representing me. Karen returned everything within two weeks of the hearing and once I regained possession of everything that the judge had awarded me, I safely stored it at mom’s house.
Carrying a box inside, I ask him, “Are you sure you don’t mind living here with me?”
“Of course, not! We’ve been over this a million times, baby.”
He kisses me on the forehead as we stand on my mom’s front porch. “I still feel bad that you’re giving up your house to live here with me. I know it’s not nearly as nice as what you’re used to living in.”
He drapes his heavy arm around me, pulling me close to his chest. “Baby, I’d live in a box with you if that’s what you wanted. All I want to do is be close to you and it doesn’t matter where it is.”
I can’t stop myself from smiling like an idiot. “Greg,” I say. “You’re the best.”
While we’re busy organizing the boxes in the living room, Sierra lets herself in the front door. “So there’s the guy who stole my roommate,” she teases him.
The two of them hit it off as soon as I introduced them to each other which makes me extremely happy. They trade snide comments like an old brother and sister.
“And there’s the girl who kept this amazing woman hidden away from me all my life,” he counters.
“Hey! I did you a favor by making her go that weekend! I practically handed her to you on a silver platter,” she laughs.
“That, you did. Thank you!” He says. “Actually, while you’re here, I have a question.”
Sierra and I both look over at him as he makes his way over to us. Dropping down on one knee, he fishes a small box out of his pocket.
“Amy,” he begins and my eyes immediately tear up. “We’ve been through a lot together this past year and now that we
’re starting a new chapter in our lives, I wanted to start the first page off with a bang. Will you marry me?” He asks, opening the ring box.
If I wasn’t already emotional enough, I look down at the box and see it’s almost identical to the wedding set my mom had that Karen kept since I didn’t ask for the jewelry. My heart nearly jumps to my throat, rendering me speechless.
“How did you?” I ask, unable to get out the full sentence.
“You answer my question first,” he beams up at me.
“Oh! Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”
He slips the ring on my finger before standing up. Taking my hand in his, he says, “I called your sister a few months ago when we started talking about living together.”
I can’t even process what he’s saying because it sounds so absurd that he called her and that she actually spoke to him.
“Karen helped you?” I ask.
“Not really,” he admits.
“What’d she say? What’d you say?” Sierra chimes in.
“I explained what was going on and told her that I’ve known from the moment we met that we’re supposed to be together and that, one day, I’d like to marry you. She was annoyed with me but I asked her if she could text me a picture of your mom’s wedding band. I know you wanted it, even though you didn’t ask for it—and while I couldn’t give it to you, I wanted you to have something similar to it.”
“Oh, Greg,” I wipe the tears away from my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he says, helping me. “I took the picture to a local jeweler and had them recreate the design but make it look more modern.”
“For fuck’s sake, I hope to God I find a man like you one day!” Sierra runs over to us, squeezing us together in a group hug.
We all get a good laugh for a minute out of her comment. “Thank you, babe,” I lean up and kiss him. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
