Page 108 of The Wedding Situation Romance

My chin quivers as those words hang in the air.

I love you…

And as much as I have wanted to hear them, ached to hear them, they don’t hold the same value as they once would have. So I use every ounce of strength and dignity that I possess to force myself to stand tall.

“I hear you. But I’m sorry, Reid. I can’t,” I tell him and turn to walk away. But then I stop, and a small, sad smirk tugs at one tired corner of my mouth.

“How ironic is it,” I ask, looking back at him. “That just when you’ve decided that you do believe in love after all…that I have given up on it?”

And with that, my chest splits into a canyon, and I walk back to the party and don’t look back.

Chapter 43

Reid

I hate to admit this,but I am going to.

I have been leveled in a courtroom before.

It was a case where my client was going for broke. He was bitter about his wife falling out of love with him over the years. She didn’t cheat. There was no foul play. If anything, she was in the right. It was one of those age-old cases. He went into the marriage hoping she wouldn’t change, and she did. She grew. And she went into it hoping he would change, and he didn’t. He said all the right things to get to the altar, and then he was lazy. Over the years, the effort fizzled and the chemistry (I know, it’s odd to hear me talk about chemistry) faded. And before they knew it, they were roommates raising kids together. Also, most of the child raising was done by her even though she worked full-time.

She wanted half of everything. As she should.

And he wanted to steamroll her.

I went into the case unaware of just how wrong he was. He withheld information about funds, assets, and income, not justfrom her, but from me as well. I went full boar to defend my client, as you do, only to find out about all this shadeduringthe trial. And believe you me, her lawyer came with a verbal shotgun of proof that my client was slime.

She and her lawyer destroyed us.

I walked out of that courtroom with my tail between my legs and fury raging in every other part of my anatomy. I ripped him a new one.

And the worst part of it all? Her lawyer was none other than Grant Bowen. He ruled over that case with the grit and grace of Fred Astaire doing the waltz. Not one foot out of place.

And I got to hear about it for years.

So as I sit at my favorite hole in the wall bar drowning my recent loss (the conversation with Quinn) over and over in my head wondering if there was something else I could have said or done, I am surprised but not when none other than Grant takes a seat next to me.

“Really?” I ask without looking at him. My words slur slightly from the whiskey buzz, but I wouldn’t say I’m drunk. Just…numb. All except for my heart, that is. The whiskey hasn’t touched that.

“I know, I know. Of all the gin joints in the world, right?” he asks. “Lucky, or unlucky, for you, this is my go-to for a stiff drink after a hard case.”

“Ironic,” I state. “I had a hard case today, too.”

“So maybe we can set our differences aside and have a drink then. Colleague to colleague,” he says, waving down the bartender.

I scoff. “We might work in the same field, but we work different ends. And you are not my colleague.”

“Salty words for someone who is in the wrong,” he says. “But of course you play that card often, it seems.”

I blink hard, my scowl deepening. “If you chose the stool next to mine so you can rub it in my face that I lost both a client and a woman I cared for, don’t bother. I’m already punishing my liver for my failures.”

Grant chuckles at that. “You’ve always been full of battery acid, Remington. I’ll give you that. But no. I’m not here to rub anything in your face. It was actually a coincidence that I saw you sitting here. I came in for a drink because, like I said, I’m dealing with a tough case.”

“Yeah?” I ask, attempting to show interest because I’m not in the mood to argue.

“Mom of four trying to get out of a traditional life marriage where abuse is involved. No money of her own and no skill set once the divorce is final. I want her to have full custody. I want him to have no contact other than a fat child support check with alimony to ice the cake.”

“So you want a rainbow,” I say, and he takes a sip of his drink and sucks his teeth.