by Nicole Casey
Flipping back around, I peered at the clock on my night table.
It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.
Where could she be?
The first stirrings of panic tickled my stomach and I slipped out of the warm bed, a cold draft assaulting me as I did.
Did I leave the bathroom window open again? Yve is going to kill me, I thought, padding across the unfinished wood floor to close it.
When I entered the closet-sized room, my eyes rested on the sink where one toothbrush sat, conspicuously alone.
Mine.
As if in a trance, I opened the medicine cabinet and my fears were confirmed.
Her belongings were gone, just like the shirts and underwear in her dresser and it didn’t take me long to find the engagement ring atop the scarred piece of furniture, accenting a “Dear John” letter like a neon sign.
My fingers closed around it and I tried to read it, but I barely understood what it said.
They didn’t make sense despite the eloquence of the words.
We want different things…we are always fighting…your temper scares me sometimes…talking always ends up in a blowout…I have decided to attend law school at UNC…please don’t contact me…move on with your life and I will move on with mine…focus on what’s important – your career…you may not believe this, but I will always love you…maybe if we had met at a different time…
The letter fluttered from my hands like a cliché in a bad movie and I slumped to the floor crossed legged and stared at the wall.
The check for her share of the next two months of rent fell to my side.
I have no idea how long I sat there, not from any comprehensive sense of time anyway.
The fog never really lifted, not after I managed to dress and leave the apartment, Yve’s check in hand.
The haze enveloped me as I made it to the bank, deposited the money and instantly withdrew it.
I managed to hold fast to the numbness as I plied myself with liquor for two months, drinking away the pain of losing my first love.
But I got over her, I told myself, slightly distraught that such an excruciating memory had resurfaced. I picked myself up and dusted myself off. I learned to control my temper and I became the lawyer I had striven to be. I am not the same man she thought she knew back then.
The words were firm and convincing in my mind, but I wondered why there was a nagging in my chest as I recalled Yvette’s eyes staring scornfully at me.
“There’s the Draven I know. It took a while, but I knew that attitude of yours would rear its ugly head again.”
“No,” I growled to the empty car, my foot falling slightly heavier on the gas pedal as I drove toward my apartment on Queen Street. “I am not the same man. And she has no right to pretend she knows me when she walked away.”
As I heard myself speak, I wondered who I was trying to convince.
Had I been holding onto resentment toward my ex-fiancée even though we had maintained a perfectly innocent friendship all these years?
Of course not! I snapped at myself. This is about work and nothing else. Yve is trying to get under your skin already and she’s succeeding.
My hands gripped the steering wheel and I steered the Audi onto George Street.
I didn’t have to prove anything to Yvette Viera, but I did owe it to Angeline Sterling to win her the best settlement I could.
Nothing about this is personal, I reassured myself. This is about getting my client everything she deserves.
I tried to ignore the fact that there was laughter in my head.
6
Yvette
I eyed the phone furtively but apparently not covertly enough.
“Yvette!”
Guiltily I looked at my mom and offered her an innocent smile.
“What?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t been glued to the cell but she was not fooled.
“Honey, it’s Thanksgiving. Why do I always have to fight with you about your phone?”
A pang of annoyance coursed through me.
It was the same tired argument although it seemed that she was more focused on me today than she usually was in the past.
I looked helplessly around for reinforcements, but everyone was busy with their own thing.
Vyolet and Evan sat on the sofa, deep in conversation while Alex banged at the out of tune piano in the corner.
The baby was taking a nap, but the monitor sat nearby so that her parents could hear if she stirred away from down the hall.
My dad had Slade trapped and I could see Maya trying not to roll her eyes as she listened to whatever football conversation they were having as the game played on the television.
“You’re being antisocial,” my mom continued. “Come and sit with the family. We haven’t seen you since before Halloween!”
I blinked, trying to recall when Halloween had been.
My life wasn’t measured in holidays like hers or my sisters.
I barely noticed the changing of seasons or the days of the week.
Mine was dictated by settlements and court dates.
There were no weekends, only slower days.
“I’m coming,” I sighed, reaching for my Blackberry but her scathing look stopped me.
I reluctantly left it on the dining room table where she had insisted I leave it.
“What is so important that you need your phone on Thanksgiving?” she continued, and I rolled my eyes as I followed her back into the living room.
No matter how many times I tried to explain to her that life did not stop on Sundays and holidays, she insisted on rehashing the same questions at every occasion.
I longed for the days when Maya was her target.
Even Vyolet is off the hook because she has a baby, even though she hooked up with dad’s best friend. Life is unbearably unfair.
“I am working on an important case,” I told her. “And my client is supposed to be sending me some financials soon. I want to ensure the email comes through securely. It’s very sensitive information.”
“On Thanksgiving?” mom demanded as if I had uttered some blasphemous statement. “Doesn’t she have a family?”
“Not anymore!” Maya interjected wickedly. “She’s divorced!”
Mom gave her a baleful look, but I swallowed a smile at my sister’s off-color joke.
“She is a he,” I began. “And he is a very important figure who likely doesn’t stop for Thanksgiving.”
I said it meaningfully, but the implication was lost on everyone.
I guess they don’t equate me with an important figure, I thought dryly.
My mom and sister eyed me, waiting for me to elaborate but I felt disloyal saying more.
Not that the Sterling divorce was being kept low profile.
On the contrary.
Angeline Sterling had decided to make the battle as public and messy as possible.
All major media had been notified and the press could not get enough of the celebrity split.
“You’re handling Ryerson Sterling, aren’t you?” Slade piped up from the couch and I whipped my head around to look at him.
“You know about this, then?”
He chuckled and shrugged.
“I would have to be living under a rock not to know,” he replied.
Instantly he looked up apologetically.
“No offense.”
There was a polite chuckle, but all eyes were on me as they waited for a response.
Reluctantly, I nodded.
“I am,” I said slowly. “It’s only been a couple weeks though.”
“And already media circus,” Slade volunteered.
I wished he would stop talking.
“Well he is a media mogul,” I replied lightly. “It would be hard for him to escape it.”
“What is he like?” Maya asked, her green eyes brightening. “I bet he’s larger than life.”
I stared at her for a long moment, thinking of ways to explain my client to her.
> He was larger than life but not in a boisterous or aggressive way.
There was a confidence about him which he managed without arrogance or pretentiousness and I was grateful that I had him and not his wretched wife.
He seemed taken aback by the divorce, but he was willing to fight just as hard as Angeline to keep what was his.
“He’s a good guy,” I said simply. “And he doesn’t deserve to lose half his life to that woman.”
“That woman?” Vyolet and my mom chorused in unison. They stared at me in disbelief.
“What?” I demanded. “She’s awful!”
“That is his wife!” mom growled. “She has invested as much into their lives as he has. She is entitled to just as much, if not more for her part in the marriage.”
I snorted.
“You wouldn’t say that if you met her. She’s a horrible person. She basically sprung the divorce on him without warning and is doing everything possible to make it as painful as possible for everyone involved. I mean if you want out of a marriage, fine but you don’t have to be cruel about it.”
“I don’t need to know her to know that a marriage takes two people to make it work. You only know one side of the story, Yvette. You can’t possibly make judgments based on whatever lies he’s feeding you,” mom insisted.
I almost choked.
“Lies? How can you make such a bold statement? You don’t know him either. Why are you defending her? Because you think she’s some desperate housewife who can’t defend herself?”
My mom’s mouth almost disappeared as she pressed her lips together.
I hadn’t meant it as a dig at her, but she apparently took it as one.
“I am defending the union. Are there children?”
“Mom, the Sterlings are in their sixties. Their children are grown.”
Her face grew red.
“The children are never too old to be affected by the trauma of a divorce!”
“Mom!” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “I am a divorce lawyer. You have never been divorced. I would wager that I know a bit more on the subject than you do!”
“You have also never been married,” she answered shortly. “You can’t understand what’s involved. That’s why it is so easy for you to break up these relationships.”
The comment was not meant to be subtle and an uncomfortable silence ensued while I struggled to maintain my composure.
Again, this was not a topic which hadn’t been discussed a thousand times in the past but the fact that my mother was disappointed in my field of work was something I could not easily dismiss.
It was no secret that my mom wanted to see me married and practicing real estate law or something which did not offend her traditional value system.
“I do not break up marriages,” I hissed, gritting my teeth.
“Well his ex doesn’t know what she’s in for,” my dad laughed nervously, trying to alleviate the tension in the room. “I feel sorry for her attorney, but he wouldn’t be the first one to underestimate you, would he?”
I lowered my eyes, a slight pink tinge coloring my cheeks.
There was no need to tell them who Angeline’s counsel was.
I silently prayed that no one had investigated the Sterlings too much, but God never listened to me.
“Who is representing her?”
My head jerked up and I looked at Maya who seemed to be boring holes into me.
I hated that she could see right through me, even if she wasn’t sure what I was hiding.
“What difference does that make?” I asked curtly.
It was the wrong thing to say and even Alex stopped tinkering at the piano long enough to look at me with curiosity, her Bambi-like eyes unblinking.
Is it really hot in here?”
“Oh, it must be someone good!” Vyolet squealed, noting my discomfort. “Tell us!”
I shook my head and instantly missed the protection of my long locks against my face.
The bob did not allow for any hiding whatsoever.
“I read that they are both being represented by your firm, Yve,” Slade said, and it took every fiber of my being not to roar at him to shut his handsome trap.
“That can’t be right,” my dad said. “There’s some sort of legal conflict there, right sweetheart?”
I had nowhere to look but up and I glared hatefully at Slade who did not understand my malice.
“There is a loophole and the Sterlings have found it,” I sighed. “Draven Archer is representing Angeline Sterling.”
This time, the silence was longer, and it was almost unbearable before Evan spoke.
“Wasn’t your ex-fiancé named Draven?”
Until that moment, I had liked my sisters’ significant others but suddenly I wanted to murder them both in one fell swoop.
“That is her ex,” Vyolet gasped. “How is that going to work?”
“It’s working just fine,” I said shortly. “Anyway, can we drop this subject? It’s bordering on attorney-client privilege.”
“We’re not talking about the Sterlings, Yve,” Maya stated. “We’re asking about you and Draven. That can’t be good, pitting you against one another like that.”
I snorted.
“No one is pitting anyone against anyone. We are professionals. We know there is nothing personal in this.”
“It’s bad enough that you have to work together,” mom grumbled. “But now they’re doing this?”
“Mom, the firm has no idea that Draven and I dated when we were kids,” I growled. “If making mountains out of molehills was a career, you guys would corner the market, I swear.”
“You were more than dating!” mom screeched, and I wanted to kick myself for falling into the trap. “They should know about your history! It affects everyone!”
There was no arguing with her.
Even when she was wrong, she believed she was a hundred and fifty percent right.
I looked at my sisters for help but before they could speak, dad chimed in.
“We are worried about you, sweetheart,” dad offered, giving me his warm smile. “But if you say you’ve got this under control, we support you, of course.”
“Is this subject closed then?” I asked, warily holding my breath.
“I’m going to check on the turkey,” my mother said abruptly, storming toward the kitchen.
Her feelings were hurt that she was being dismissed but I was glad to see her go.
We would kiss and make up later.
“I have to admit, it’s nice to see that she’s on you these days,” Maya chuckled, and I glared at her.
“Thanks for that.”
But I wasn’t really upset with mom or Slade or anyone.
Well, maybe a little bit with myself.
My mom’s words bothered me so much because they were true.
Things were not going well at work, the Sterlings causing a rash of buried memories to resurface.
Draven and I never saw one another in the mornings anymore, our coffee dates forsaken like they had never existed.
Whenever I ran into him at the office, he appeared to be busier than he actually was, and I marveled that after all those years, I still knew him as well as I did.
His body language and tells were still the same when he was nervous, and I could read him like a book whenever we crossed paths.
That’s good, I told myself grimly. It will serve me well in the settlement.
But I couldn’t dispute that I missed our bantering and some nights when my insomnia took hold, I would stare out into Pierce Creek and think about sending him a text to ask if we were still friends.
I suppose I never did because I suspected I already knew the answer.
You walked out on him six years ago, never expecting to see him again. The fact that we managed to overcome our history in the first place is a miracle. If this case ends up ruining our friendship, we never really got over our issues in the first place, I reasoned but it didn’t make me any less melanch
oly.
“Cheer up, Yve,” Maya said, grabbing my arm. “We won’t bring it up again. Well, I won’t anyway.”
I nodded and shifted my thoughts toward my family.
Two weeks ago I was upset that my family didn’t call on me anymore and now that I’m here with them, I’m mourning the loss of something I never had in the first place. It’s Thanksgiving. I should be thankful, not sulk.
“Anyway,” Maya whispered, leaning in. “You’re going to annihilate Draven in court. Make sure you bring a box of tissues for him.”
I met my sister’s blazing green eyes and I grinned, my shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Yes, I am.”
7
Draven
“You going to this?”
I started and turned back to look at Brady, blinking quickly at the question.
“What?”
He pointed at the bulletin board and I focused my eyes on the paper dangling before me.
I hadn’t been paying attention, honestly and I couldn’t say for certain how long I had been standing in the breakroom with a coffee in my hand, but it was no longer warm to the touch.
“I wish it was in the Keys again this year,” Brady continued, and I finally reconciled that I was staring at a flyer for the annual retreat weekend.
“Yeah, the Keys would be nice,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’m going.”
“Well, May is ways away,” Brady commented. “But you know the spots fill up pretty quick.”
“Even at a dude ranch?” I replied skeptically. “I’ll take my chances.”
Brady laughed and left me alone with my thoughts.
I watched him walk away and returned to what I had been considering as my coffee frosted in my hand.
She’s not going to like this but unfortunately, that is the way the game is played.
As if she felt me calling out to her, Yvette entered the break room.
“Oh,” she said, seeming surprised to see me standing there. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I replied quickly, taking a sip of my beverage.
I immediately wished I had not.
The bitter, cold liquid made me gag slightly.
