Icebreaker

by Deirdre Martin

  “We try not to talk about it when we’re on ‘our’ time.”

  Anthony nodded approvingly. “Makes sense.”

  Adam yawned. “I need a break. I really do. I’m thirty-five years old, Anthony. That’s about ninety in hockey years. Some nights I come home from playing and I can’t even move, I’m so crippled.” He took a sip of beer. “I’m going to talk to Sinead about us finding some time to spend a whole weekend together.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Now, what do you want to watch: season one or season two?”

  Sinead arrived in the office bright and early Monday morning. She checked Oliver’s office. Empty.

  Despite it being the early days of their relationship, she missed Adam incredibly when the team played out of town. Tonight she planned on staying late at the office, not only to keep her mind off Adam, but because she was desperate to get a leg up on her work. She’d just taken on a major class-action lawsuit against Joyce Toys, one of the largest toy manufacturers in the world. High levels of lead had been found in toddlers’ toys. One of the senior partners, Jeff Kaplan, was originally going to take the case, but he was too busy. That he handpicked Sinead to take it instead meant a lot to her, but then he lowered the boom. “Are you sure you’ll have the time? I hear you’re quite close with one of the clients.”

  “I treat all my clients equally,” Sinead said smoothly.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  When he left, Sinead sat at her desk with her head in her hands. How the hell could he know about her and Adam? Shit. She made herself a huge mug of coffee. Oliver would know what to do.

  He rolled into the office at around eight in the evening. “Hey.” Oliver loosened his tie, kicked off his shoes, undid his belt, and stretched out on his couch, fingers laced behind his head. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up at home with your honey, learning what a five hole is?”

  “If you bothered to check your messages,” Sinead said crossly, “you’d know that I was going to be here tonight. Honestly, Oliver. I don’t understand how you function professionally when you only check your phone twice a day.”

  “Because I’m magic,” he whispered, flashing his eyes dramatically. He took one hand out from behind his head, fluttering his fingers in the direction of the mini fridge across the room. “Be an angel and get me the bottle of tequila in there, will you?”

  Tequila and coke. That’s all the fridge was filled with. Sinead pulled the bottle out and reluctantly handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks, cutie pie.” Oliver lifted his head, taking a swig from the bottle. He lay back down with a sigh. “You look zonked.”

  “I am.” Sinead nervously twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “I think the seniors might know I’m seeing Adam.”

  “How?”

  She told Oliver what Jeff Kaplan had said to her.

  “This is so not a problem, Sinead.” He took another swig. “Jeff is a clueless fuckwit, so I doubt he knows anything. But just in case, here’s what you do: you go to Adam. You tell him that the big kahunas suspect something, and that you two need to split up temporarily. You split up. Then, if Jeff and the lads call you in to ask if you’re screwing your client, you’re not. Integrity intact. The end.”

  Sinead made a sour face. “The double standard really pisses me off.”

  “Understandably. It’s even worse for you because you’re the only female partner here.”

  Sinead’s shoulders sank. “Thanks for reminding me of that, Oliver.”

  “Anytime.” He heaved himself upright. “Trust me: it’ll all come out right in the end.”

  Sinead was skeptical. “If you say so.”

  18

  Sinead was confident as she made her way to Adam’s apartment. He’d be in a good mood since the Blades had swept their road trip, and Oliver’s plan was solid. When Adam heard why they needed to split up temporarily, he’d understand. Adam took his job as seriously as she took her own, and he had to know that given her high-strung personality, there was no way she could keep seeing him without being constantly worried about being caught.

  A couple of blocks from Adam’s door, Sinead realized she’d never been to his apartment before. In fact, she’d never been in this part of the city. Adam’s descriptions of his surroundings were on target: the area was fairly nondescript. Still, there was a neighborhood feel to it that reminded her of the old Hell’s Kitchen before the real estate brokers started calling it Clinton. People were walking their dogs, hanging out on stoops talking, doormen chatting with apartment residents. She wondered if Adam ever stopped to chat with anyone. Probably not.

  The lobby of his building was pretty nondescript as well: a few well-placed plants, two black leather sectional couches for waiting guests, and a pile of magazines on a small cherrywood sideboard.

  “Can I help you?” asked the doorman, a slight, balding man in his early fifties. Sinead wondered how long he’d been working here. One of the doormen in her building, Alan, had been there thirty years.

  “I’m here to see Adam Perry.”

  The doorman nodded, buzzing Adam, while Sinead’s eyes strayed to the security camera mounted high in one corner of the ceiling. She saw herself standing there in black and white. It was odd.

  “Go on up,” said the doorman pleasantly.

  Sinead smiled. “Thanks.”

  Adam’s apartment was in keeping with his personality: spare, the home of someone who had no patience for excess. A small, apartment-sized leather couch, an ottoman, and one end table. No rug yet. There were crates of what she assumed to be artwork leaning against the wall that hadn’t been opened. And, of course, there was a television. She’d never known a man who could survive without a television.

  Adam looked so happy to see her she was tempted to toss Oliver’s advice out the window and go with the damn flow. But the flow had become a fast-moving, perilous torrent that could sweep her career away. She had to be careful.

  Adam drew her up in his arms, kissing her full on the mouth. “Mmm. Missed you.”

  “Me, too.” She wished she’d changed out of her work clothes before coming over. Here he was, in jeans and a well-worn sweatshirt, casual and comfortable. And here she was, Ms. Corporate. She slid out of her shoes, wiggling her toes. God, she hated wearing heels. She was going to be one of those old women with mangled feet; she knew it.

  “You want to rest up for a few minutes, then go grab some dinner?” Adam asked.

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  Adam shrugged. “Okay. We can just order in later.”

  “That sounds good.” Sinead sank down on the couch wearily. Adam sat beside her, rubbing her shoulders.

  “Hard day?”

  “You could say that.”

  “What’s up?” He sounded concerned.

  She told Adam about her conversation with Jeff Kaplan. The more she talked about it, the more emotional she got, fighting off tears.

  “Anyway,” Sinead continued as she pulled herself together, “Oliver helped me figure out a way around it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You and I need to split up temporarily.”

  Adam looked uncomprehending. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s simple. We split up. That way if they flat-out ask me if I’m seeing you, I won’t be lying when I say no. In the meantime, I win the case. Then you and I get back together.”

  She smiled at him as if to say, “See? Easiest thing in the world.” But her smile soon faded as she took in the look on Adam’s face. He looked mildly offended.

  “What’s the matter?” Sinead asked.

  “And what happens in between? We keep in touch via e-mail?”

  “Adam.”

  His sarcasm threw her.

  “You handled this wrong. You should have fought back and said, ‘Hell yeah, I’m seeing Adam Perry. Why is it all right for all of you to date clients, but not me?’ ”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  �
�It will if you speak up for yourself, rather than put us through some cloak-and-dagger caper. I’m not surprised this was Oliver’s idea.”

  “It’s not cloak-and-dagger,” Sinead said defensively. “And what’s wrong with it being Oliver’s idea? He knows how things work there better than I do. His plan is absolutely what needs to happen to make sure I don’t get fired.”

  Adam shook his head obstinately. “I repeat: I think you need to stand up to them on this. Don’t you see? If you let this double standard continue, they’ll think they can cow you when it comes to other things. Plus, they’ll do it to every woman after you who works for them. It’s bullshit, Sinead.”

  Sinead blinked. This was not how she expected him to react. She thought he’d be annoyed that they had to break up temporarily, but that he’d see it made sense for her politically as well as emotionally.

  Adam looked pained. “I’m disappointed in you.”

  Sinead felt her blood pressure spike. “What?”

  “I thought you were someone who stood up for herself, no matter what.”

  “I am standing up for myself!” she said heatedly. “What if your job was on the line? You’d—”

  “My job is on the line!” Adam snapped. “But you don’t see me giving in, changing who I am to please others.”

  “You’re not getting this,” said Sinead, her frustration mounting. “This is a completely different situation. My reputation could be ruined if I rock the boat.”

  “Then don’t let it happen. Call them on their hypocrisy.”

  Sinead’s mouth fell open. “You’re clueless.”

  “And you’re gutless.”

  “How dare you? You have no idea what it’s like to be the sole female partner in an all-male law firm, no idea at all. I’ve had to work twice as hard to get where I am because of my gender. I’m always working twice as hard. You think I’m going to risk everything I’ve fought for?”

  “So you don’t care if they maintain their double standard, as long as it doesn’t affect your job. You’re willing to sacrifice us.”

  “It’s temporary! Why don’t you get that?”

  “And what happens when we get back together, huh? We hide it? We meet clandestinely?”

  “We won’t need to hide,” Sinead reiterated, trying not to sound impatient. “Your case will be over. You won’t be my client anymore.”

  Adam wasn’t buying it. “And what if the case drags on for months? We’re going to be apart all that time?”

  “I guess.” She hadn’t thought of that.

  Adam shook his head obstinately. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Sinead felt like she’d been punched. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “What are you saying? That we’re not worth the wait?”

  “I’m talking about integrity.”

  Sinead rubbed her temples. “You don’t get it. This allows me to keep my integrity and not lie. We’re going around in circles. I don’t know why you can’t wait this out with me.”

  “Because I shouldn’t have to. Because if you called them on their shit—”

  “I’m not risking my career, Adam. Sorry.”

  “Then I guess we’re done here.”

  “Yes, I guess we are.” Sinead rose, struggling to quell the shaking she felt inside. “I’ll be in touch about the case.”

  “Yup.” Aloof Adam had returned.

  “I can see myself to the door, thank you.”

  Adam disappeared into the kitchen.

  Sinead slid her feet back into her pumps and walked to the door. She hated the sharp, hard tapping of her shoes on his bare wooden floor. Ironic, she thought. What she was now thinking about Adam was what he’d thought about her in the beginning: that she was sharp. Hard and brittle.

  He was wrong. He didn’t know what he was talking about. It was different for women. And if he couldn’t get that through his excessively thick skull, well, that was his problem. She had to do what she had to do.

  19

  “Someone’s got a puss on.”

  Sinead ignored her mother’s comment as she dug into her mashed potatoes. It was the O’Brien Sunday dinner, and though she hadn’t wanted to come, she thought it might make her feel better after what happened with Adam. It didn’t.

  “Work trouble?” Quinn asked, even though the inquiring look in his eyes told Sinead he was really asking something else.

  “Work overload,” said Sinead. “As always.”

  “Don’t know how you’re ever going to find a man if all you do is work, work, work,” her mother said under her breath.

  “Ma, please,” said Sinead.

  “What’s going on?” Maggie mouthed.

  “Later,” Sinead mouthed back.

  Her gaze drifted to baby Charlie, sitting in the same high chair she and her siblings had all used. Puréed carrots were smeared around his mouth, and he was kicking his legs happily. Sinead smiled at him tentatively. He smiled back, a big, gummy, baby smile that made Sinead happy. Maybe a connection was being made after all.

  Quinn and Natalie left before dessert; they had to catch a flight to Paris. Sinead felt guilty; she still hadn’t made it to the restaurant Natalie was managing. She never seemed to have time for all the things she wanted or intended or needed to do. You don’t make the time, a small voice in her head accused. How her head hadn’t exploded yet from all the voices packed inside was a mystery to her.

  Charlie began whining to get out of his chair. Maggie took a washcloth to his face, wiped the mashed carrots off, and lifted him onto her lap. Sinead dipped her head tentatively.

  “Mags? Maybe I—?”

  Maggie smiled. “Sure.”

  She handed Charlie off to Sinead. He was squirmy in her arms, all restless energy. What now? Sinead thought, mildly alarmed.

  “Hi, Charlie,” she cooed. “Hey, there.”

  Charlie stared at her a moment, then turned back to Maggie, his chubby arms held out imploringly as he burst into tears.

  “C’mere,” said Maggie, wincing apologetically as she took Charlie back. “Don’t take it personally. He’s going through a big Mommy phase.”

  “I can attest to that,” said Brendan. “Takes one look at my mug and starts to howl.”

  Sinead hoped they weren’t just saying that.

  “You okay?” Maggie asked.

  Sinead smiled weakly. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “No worries. Anyone want more coffee?”

  “All right, what’s up?”

  Sinead and Maggie were in the kitchen, cleaning up. After dessert, they’d told their mother she looked exhausted, and that she should take a small nap. It was true; she did look tired. But getting her out of the kitchen also gave them a chance to chat privately.

  “Nothing’s up,” Sinead said miserably.

  “Adam—?”

  “I was seeing Adam, and now I’m not.”

  “Because—”

  Sinead sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “What isn’t? Spill it.”

  Sinead told Maggie everything, fighting tears as she remembered Adam calling her gutless. She had never, ever in her life thought of herself that way, and the fact that it was her boyfriend who had called her that was sending her into a tailspin of self-doubt that was overwhelming.

  “He’s got some nerve,” Maggie fumed, snapping her dish towel like a whip. “On his high horse, with no appreciation of how you’ve busted your ass. ‘I’m disappointed in you,’ ” she mimicked. “Does he have any idea how things work in the real world? What a jerk.”

  Sinead lifted her head to look at her sister. “What if he’s right?”

  “He’s not right,” Maggie snapped.

  “I’ve lost him,” Sinead said quietly. “Things had barely begun, and I blew it.”

  “Sounds like a blessing to me. And it’s his loss.” Maggie put a hand on her hip. “If any man ever had the balls to tell me he was disappointed in me when I was trying to save my job and the relationship, I�
��d kick those balls down the hall and tell him to go chase them.”

  “Normally that would be my MO, too—albeit it a bit more delicately—but this threw me for a loop.”

  “I can see why,” Maggie said, grabbing a damp pot to dry. “But in the meantime, you need to think about yourself. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Sinead said glumly.

  Sinead sat in Jeff Kaplan’s plush office, waiting for him, Don Epps, and Terry Callahan to arrive. She knew why they wanted to see her. She could feel it.

  “Sinead.” Jeff Kaplan’s voice was cordial as he entered briskly with Don and Terry in tow.

  “Gentlemen.” Sinead rose, shaking all their hands.

  Jeff motioned for her to sit back down as he rounded his desk, while Don and Terry each sat in an antique Hepplewhite chair facing her on the couch. They might not be the biggest law firm in Manhattan, but they were one of the top-earning ones.

  Jeff settled down comfortably behind his desk. “First of all, we’re thrilled you decided to take on the Joyce case. We couldn’t think of anyone better.”

  “I’d like to keep Oliver abreast of things just in case we need to litigate.”

  “Put that on hold, if you will. Oliver has too much on his plate right now,” said Jeff.

  Sinead gave a small nod. Nothing further needed to be said.

  Jeff put his elbows on the desk, tenting his fingers. “How’s the Perry case going?”

  “It’s going on a bit too long for my liking,” Sinead replied. “It’s obvious the DA is trying to drag it out until the elections.”

  “Has he got a case?”

  “There have been three assault cases like this in the history of the NHL. Only one resulted in a prosecution.”

  “Good sign.” Jeff looked troubled as he sighed deeply.

  “Look, I feel very awkward doing this, but I’m afraid some information has come to light that concerns us.”

  Here it comes, Sinead thought. “What’s that?”

  “Another attorney at another firm informed us that you’re dating Adam Perry.”

  This again? Sinead thought. “It’s not true,” she said without hesitation.