Head Over Feels

by Scott, S. L.

  Now I have his attention—eyes wide open, line between his brows. “You want to move into my room? You’re already here.”

  “I want us to get ready for bed and work together, to have a set space that we go to without asking ‘my place or yours’ every night. Sure, it’s funny, but it’s starting to feel like a barrier instead.”

  Flipping the covers off his body, he gets out of bed and stretches. As he heads for the bathroom, he says, “You can move into my room on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  He returns to me and pulls off the covers, letting his gaze graze down my body. “You take your shower with me in the mornings.”

  I flop back down on the bed with my hands behind my head and my ankles crossed, soaking in this victory. “I have no problem with that.”

  “Then you have yourself a deal.” His head signals toward the bathroom. “Deal starts now. Get that sexy ass in there.”

  * * *

  Sitting at my desk a few hours later, I hear Misty Connor asking for me. I stand. “I’m here. Come on back.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and she walks down the corridor created by the cubicles, stopping when she reaches mine. I smile, noticing that she’s holding her head up and looking me in the eyes. “Hi, you weren’t here last week when I came by.”

  Remembering my day of playing hooky, I try not to let guilt from missing work set in. It’s a hard habit to break, though. “Sorry I missed you. I was out that day. Have a seat. I’d like to hear an update.”

  She sits in the chair, setting the brown purse at her feet. Although it’s a gentler smile she’s wearing, it’s more than any I’ve seen on her before. She says, “Mr. Wellington has helped my case tremendously. I actually have hope that it’s going to work out how it’s supposed to. Deacon hasn’t violated the restraining order despite threats that he would.”

  “You need to report those threats. A record of certain types of behavior is critical for a judge to side in your favor.”

  “Yes. My attorney went over everything that he set up. I can’t thank you enough, Tealey. Rad has been a blessing, and he’s so nice. You said you were friends, but when I mentioned you, he looked different. I don’t mean to pry, but I can tell he thinks very highly of you.”

  I try not to, but I smile. “I appreciate that, Misty. I don’t normally discuss my personal life with clients, so please forgive me.”

  “No. No.” She raises her hands in front of her. “I understand. Just thought it was worth mentioning.”

  I can feel my heart racing like Rad and I share more than a bedroom now. Our lives have entwined in a way that makes me glad I took a chance involving him. “Do you have time to go over the benefits?”

  “Yes, that’s why I came. I spoke to a social worker in Philadelphia near where my mom lives.”

  “If you need me, I can help with the transfer and verifications.”

  I can’t stop looking at how different she appears—healthier, less burdened by life, no bruises or black eyes.

  She says, “There’s a lot of paperwork. I’m surprised it’s not all in the system.”

  “It’s an antiquated system, but we’re working on getting it updated.” I slide my keyboard closer and type in her name to pull up her file.

  “Mr. Wellington suggested I consider serving the divorce papers in the next week. That would give me time to get us moved to Philly and find a job before school starts.”

  Though she’s not asking, I’m not in a position to offer advice. “I can’t offer you legal advice, but I would trust Mr. Wellington with my life.” And my heart, but that’s too personal to mention.

  I don’t have much time, but I have enough to set her up with a resource director in Philly as well as a contact from one of the social services’ offices near her mom’s house. As soon as she’s gone, Lowell dips his face over the dividing wall. “Come to my office, Tealey.”

  As soon as I know the clients waiting up front are situated with another social worker, I trek back to Lowell’s office. Knocking twice on the door with my knuckle causes him to look up. “Come in and take a seat.” I move around the chair to sit, but he stops me. “Close the door first.”

  That’s something he could have told me from the beginning. I do it begrudgingly and then sit down. I don’t bother asking questions when I know he’s happy to tell me what displeases him.

  He says, “From my understanding, you left our protocols at the door to find a lawyer who you approved versus what the state of New York deems appropriate to help a client. I don’t like people who step outside the lines. What makes you think you know better than all the people who came before you?” What the actual hell? He is such an asshole.

  “I don’t think I’m smarter. I did what I had to do, which was find a better lawyer than the advisor she was assigned. That’s not going outside of my job description, but actually fulfilling it.” I stand, ready to leave this nonsense behind. Let him write me up if he so chooses. I can defend my decision to help my clients. Unlike him.

  I open the door and start to leave but stop with the doorknob in my hand when he says, “I’m reassigning you to Poughkeepsie.”

  My stomach drops as I try to process what he just said. I turn back with my mouth wide open. “Poughkeepsie?”

  His chair squeals in protest when he relaxes back in it. Holding a pen in his hands, he says, “I believe it will be a good fit for you.”

  I have no idea if he’s flipping the bird to my career or taking our personal conflicts out on me. “Isn’t it great news?” he asks, his tone so flat that I’m still trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth.

  “Are you for real?” My composure is all but gone, and my emotions are shredded. I’m not sure if I should feel angry or sad.

  “I’m for real, all right.” He cackles like all evil humans do and clicks the keyboard like he’s setting a pack of dogs free to attack me.

  “I already approved your transfer. They’ll let us know in the next few weeks when you’ll be starting.” Like an electric shock shooting right through me, I’m astounded by his boldness.

  “Why would you do that without consulting me?”

  “Because I figured one job in Poughkeepsie was better than no job at all.”

  Angry works. “You’re firing me?”

  “No. We have budget cuts. It makes no sense to fire Peggy because she’s leaving.”

  Still struggling to comprehend, I ask, “I don’t have a job in this office anymore?”

  “That’s what budget cuts mean. I have spots for two, and . . .it’s easier to let you know so you have time to figure out what you’re going to do. I heard you still haven’t found a place to live.” Lowell leans forward, stabbing his elbows into the worn wood of his desk and folding his fingers together. “This is the sign you’ve been waiting for. Make the move and start fresh with a new crew.”

  My temper flares, and my hands fist at my side. How dare he! He may see me as meek, but I’m stronger than he can ever imagine. I won’t walk away quietly.

  “What if I don’t want to start fresh? I’ve earned my position in this office, Lowell. Not even for you. I do a good job. You’ve never received a complaint. My record is clear. It’s glowing, in fact. Tell me the real reason I’m being cut.” My heated emotions begin to subside. “Not that I want any of the others to move either. They have family in the area. Kids in the local schools . . .” And then it all begins to make sense.

  32

  Rad

  I stared at the two invitations.

  Two opposite ends of the relationship spectrum with an obligation that doesn’t allow me to turn either of them down. One celebrates two people choosing to spend their lives together. The other celebrates being single.

  Both have strings attached . . .

  Ashleigh taps the top of the desk. “Yes, to both, I assume?”

  “Yes.” I pick them up and shove them in a side drawer of my desk. I could take time justifying each, but I’m thinking Tealey won’
t see it the same way. But if she agrees to be my date, she’ll see the Big Apple Most Eligible Bachelor Awards is not a ploy to get laid.

  “Thank you,” I add when Ashleigh stands to leave, turning my attention to the computer monitor.

  She straightens a few files on my desk but continues to linger. I watch her go from the folders to the pens to the legal pads. Her fidgeting is distracting, so I ask, “What’s going on?”

  Dropping back into the chair, she says, “I need to talk to you about something.”

  I glance at the time to see how many minutes I can spare. “Now is good.” I angle my chair to face her and wait. Eight minutes isn’t a lot of time, but I’m confident we can address anything that needs immediate attention.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  I’m pretty sure I blink but can’t say one hundred percent. The more selfish thoughts run across my mind: How will she juggle the demands of the job with a newborn? Or will she leave altogether?

  She holds her hand up, stopping my mind from its thoughtless reeling. Thank God. She says, “It’s a shock. It was for me as well. I even waited for the lab results before I could process what was happening. Now I’m starting to adjust to the idea of having a baby and how this will change my life.” She laughs to herself. “It’s a big change, but I’ve always wanted kids, so I know that will work out how it’s supposed to. But I worry how it will affect my career.”

  I sit back in my chair and watch the emotions play out in her eyes. She’s been my right-hand for so many years. She’s a good person, a good friend, and she’s damn good at her job. She’ll also be a damn good mother.

  Why should she have to choose between her child or her career?

  My mind goes to Tealey, and I know what she would choose. I know what I would want her to choose. And the thought of her being in that situation—and of her being pregnant with my child—creates a lump in my throat that I’m not ready to deal with.

  “It won’t,” I say. “I’ll make sure of it.” A gentle smile appears, and she looks apprehensive for the first time since I’ve known her. “The thing is . . .” She glances back up. “I don’t want to hold you back, Rad. You need someone—”

  “No.” I’m already shaking my head, and that in and of itself is a mindfuck. “We do this together, remember?” She smiles in relief.

  “I’m grateful to have you as my boss.”

  What am I doing? This is Ashleigh, my friend. I finally stand and move around my desk to sit in the chair next to her. “I’m grateful to have you every step of the way. Congratulations on the baby. It’s wonderful news.”

  She scrunches her expression. “I know it’s not something we usually do, but I was thinking this one time, we could take off our professional hats and set them aside for a hug?”

  I nod once. She moves her stuff from her lap to my desk, and we both stand to hug. It’s awkward, not going to lie. She’s become a sister to my legal family and someone I care about. She must feel the same because we give each other a good job pat on the back right before stepping back.

  The door flies open, and Marlow runs into my office. “It’s showtime, Rad. Hurry. Hurry.” Marlow mimes zipping her lip, waiting for Ashleigh to leave.

  While Ashleigh gathers her things from my desk, I say, “Don’t barge into my office, Marlow. I could have been with a client or on a call.”

  With her hand sliding through the air, like she’s presenting evidence, she replies, “But you weren’t. Lucky, I caught you, I guess.” I caught you. I swear I fucking hear it in her tone. She crosses the rest of the distance, but I’m already returning to my side of the desk.

  Ashleigh asks, “Do you need anything before your meeting?”

  “No, thank you.” I’d like to say more, but it’s not my place to share her good news. As soon as she leaves, Marlow sits down. “My dad said he has a meeting with you and would like to see the two of us together.”

  Glaring at her, I say, “We need to discuss his divorce. I don’t have his permission—”

  “He won’t mind.” She blows me off. I roll my eyes, and she adds, “You look like Tealey when you do that.”

  “Or you, from what I remember.” She narrows her eyes.

  “True, but I picked it up from Tealey. She has no patience for the absurd.”

  Based on her wardrobe and cup collection, I could argue the opposite, but they’ve grown on me. I could have never imagined her tchotchkes could live in harmony with my minimal approach to clutter. Even more surprising is how well I’ve adapted to it. Got to give me a little credit here.

  My video call comes to life, but I only see Robert Marché’s nose. “You’re too close, Bob,” I say.

  “Daddy, back up from the camera.” Marlow is behind me, resting her hands on my shoulders as she peers at the screen.

  “I’m not that old.” He sits back, lounging in a large red leather office chair. “I was getting this from Lorie.” Lorie? His soon-to-be-ex-wife-who-is-challenging-every-claim-we-make Lorie? He holds up a piece of paper.

  Marlow nuzzles the top of my head. Jerking back, I ask, “What are you—?” A knuckle grinding into my back puts that question to bed. Oh, right. It’s showtime. The back of my neck is pinched because I’m screwing this up somehow. Just wish I knew what she wanted me to do.

  I cover her other hand with mine for two reasons: effect and to stop her from trying to hurt me. Since Bob is waggling the paper in front of the camera with a big grin on his face, I ask, “What is that?”

  “It’s our official declaration to end the war.” Fuck me. Does this mean what I think it does?

  “And by ending the war, what do you mean exactly?” My gut tightens. I can read into his words, but I’m going to need this spelled out for me. Clearly, if my career is going up in flames in front of the partners, I deserve the courtesy of making sure I understand.

  Lorie pops into the frame of the camera, rubbing Bob’s shoulders. Internally, I roll my eyes because aren’t we both just the happy couples . . .

  I’ve seen her in movies and in interviews. I had to watch to make sure my case was airtight. But seeing her now, sans makeup and dressed in workout clothes, I observe a different side of the famous actress most will never see. Simply looking happy, she says, “This is us agreeing to be together.” Her gaze flits back and forth between Marlow and me. “And we want to invite you both to the vow renewal we’re having in Maui at the house.”

  I expect a big reaction from Marlow, something more over-the-top—an outburst or tantrum—per usual. But I don’t even hear her swallow.

  Over my shoulder, I look up at her but find her expression unreadable. So I spin in the chair, causing her hands to drop away. “Marlow, are you okay?”

  She nods, but it’s exaggerated. I can only imagine that this announcement has come as a shock. She once said she didn’t even bother to get to know her stepmoms anymore, but does she hate the idea of her dad being married so much that she’s lost her spirit to fight?

  If she can’t lead this conversation, I need to step in for both of us. I grasp her hand, which causes her to finally look at me. With my back to the camera, I whisper, “It’s going to be okay.”

  She nods, and as if a switch was flipped, she comes alive for the camera. Throwing her arms in the air, she claps her hands together. “That is such great news. Congratulations. And, yes, of course, we’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it.” Not going to happen. Not on my watch. I just got out of the doghouse with Tealey because of this arrangement, so no, I won’t be flying to Maui with Marlow.

  No way. No how.

  Bob says, “I’m happy, sweetheart.” He kisses Lorie.

  “I know,” Marlow replies as if she was asked for permission. “I can see it.”

  Resting his arms forward on his desk, he says, “So about the divorce, Wellington. How do we put this to bed since we’re not moving forward?”

  I feel sick. There goes making partner. I bet they give it to Rogers, who’s been fighting Big Pharma for victims
. He has that advantage because it’s a more noble legal field.

  Do I have a right to feel disappointed that I’m losing an opportunity when he’s keeping his marriage together? Sure. I give myself a few seconds to grieve a promotion that was mine to lose. A part of me is angry that I lost it based on Bob dangling a carrot like I’d be a made man if I took his case. I’m also disappointed, but with Ashleigh pregnant and eventually taking leave, maybe now’s not my time?

  And then there’s Tealey. She’s making me see things differently. With this hurdle out of my path, I can start being with Tealey and put an end to the strain this charade has caused.

  Seeing Bob smiling—and how happy Lorie is—makes me say, “I wish you the best.” And I genuinely mean it. “I can send the paperwork that will terminate the proceedings if everything is remaining the same. If you’re reevaluating the assets or decide to alter the prenuptial agreement, I can handle that for you.”

  He says, “We’ll talk about it and let you know at the wedding.” Yeah, not taking that trip. Pretending on video call is bad enough.

  I say, “I’m not sure I can get to Maui—”

  “No, Cammie and Cade’s. I got the invitation today and RSVP’d that Lorie and I will be there since we were already planning a visit to the Hamptons.”

  Lorie dips back onto the screen. “I hear wedding bells are in the future. Maybe we can look at rings while I’m in New York, Marlow.” If only I weren’t on camera right now . . . “And we can start planning your wedding. Bond over girl stuff like that. Two brides-to-be.”

  Gobsmacked, I hold my breath. It’s best for all of us.

  Marlow’s hands return to my shoulder, and she squeezes. “A ring?” I hear the discomfort in her tone, and hope for our sakes, they don’t. “You know, I’ll leave that to Rad. He has exquisite taste, and I love surprises.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have it back by the wedding.” Lorie kisses Bob again and says, “We need to start getting ready. The Mercers give us a hard time when we’re late.”

  He turns back to us, and says, “Thank you for the great work you did, Rad. Send the bill over, and I’ll add a little something on top for your efforts.”