I take a seat next to Anne. I put my bare feet up on the coffee table, let out a sigh, and pull my hair loose from its tight bun. Anne kicks her heels off and puts her feet up on the table too. We share a look of solidarity and understanding. Although she and I are different in nearly every way, we are one and the same. Two women trying to make it in a man’s world. We work twice as hard as our male counterparts to make it just an inch ahead of them.
“That’s because Mr. Miller is an asshole. I’ll make sure he has a new assistant by the end of the week, and if the next one doesn’t work out, I’ll make sure he doesn’t work out here either,” I say with a laugh, although I’m completely serious. Bob is a decent attorney, but he has a huge ego and no respect for anyone else, except those that have more money or more power than him.
“Thanks, Sarah. You’re too good to me.”
“No—you’re too good to me.”
“You know who’s not too good for anyone?” Anne asks.
“Who?”
“Bob.”
We both laugh, and it feels good. I’ve had my head buried in case files forever. I miss this. I miss just hanging out without the weight of the world on my shoulders or someone’s life and future in my hands.
“Oh, I wanted to show you these.” Anne pulls out her phone. She opens her photo app and flicks her finger across the screen a few times.
I take the phone from her and look at each photo—a man crossing the street, a woman walking up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, a falcon swooping low over a lake, a child looking up at the Washington Monument. “These are beautiful, Anne. You have such a good eye,” I say admiring each picture.
“Thank you, just a little hobby of mine.”
“It should be more than a hobby. You’re very talented.”
She blushes, and her lips press firmly together as I hand her back her phone.
My phone vibrates. I stand up and walk to my desk, quickly texting Adam back. I miss him. I miss us. We exchange a few more texts, and when I learn he’ll be coming back late, it’s decided. “Let’s go out for some drinks,” I say.
“Are you sure? You have to deliver the closing statement tomorrow morning.” I can see the hope in her eyes from a friend’s standpoint who wants the best for me and the uneasiness from an employee’s stance who also wants the best for me.
“Yes, I’m entirely sure.” I grin.
Anne claps her hands together. “I’ll call us an Uber.” She gets up, slides her heels back on, and walks towards my office door with a little bounce in her step.
4
Adam Morgan
The slam of a car door wakes me from my slumber. It’s pitch black inside and outside, and I don’t have the slightest clue how my night ended with Kelly, but I assume it was with more rough sex since my cock feels like it’s been dragged along a slab of pavement. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and in large red illuminating digits it reads 12:15am.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I should have been home with Sarah by now. I rub my hands over my forehead and down my face, trying to massage the nerves back to life. How the hell did I get this bad? I can’t see more than a few inches in front of my face, but I can feel Kelly next to me. I can always feel her next to me. I scooch closer to her, running my hand along her cheek. She’s dead asleep. I whisper her name trying to stir her, but the scotch has a stronger pull on her than it did me.
“Kelly,” I whisper a little louder, but she doesn’t move. The continuous vibration and ding of her phone distract me from her, but I’ve decided that if she’s this tired, then I want her to sleep. I give her a gentle kiss on her cheek and swivel myself off my side of the bed without a sound. I tiptoe to her side of the bed and take her phone off the nightstand. I step out of the room meaning only to silence it, so it doesn’t disturb her—but the text messages catch my eye. I look back into the dark room and then at the phone. I type 4357 into the passcode. The most recent text is from a girl named Jesse.
It reads ‘I’m sorry.’
I scroll past Jesse’s most recent text to those before it. They’re all from Scott, her husband. I read them in order, starting from the earliest at 10:17pm.
I wish you would come home to me.
Why does it have to be like this?
Babe… will you please answer me?
I love you so fucking much. Why can’t you get that?
I didn’t mean any of it. You have to believe me. It won’t happen again. I promise.
Please tell me where you’re at.
If you would just answer. I would leave you alone tonight.
Fuck you, you fucking dumb ass bitch.
You fucking lied to me. You’re not still at work. I just called the cafe.
When I find you, you’ll be begging me for last night’s ordeal rather than what I have in store for you, you worthless bitch.
My muscles clench up in anger, but I keep scrolling anyway. This is her business, and she’s never wanted me to be involved, but I would kill this piece of shit at this moment if I had the chance.
Too late. You’re a fucking memory now.
That’s the final text message from Scott at 11:45pm. Jesus Christ. What a fucking psycho. I want to pick her up out of that bed and hold her close and reassure that we’re not all pieces of shit like her husband. I’m half tempted to text him back but riling him up is the last thing Kelly needs. Instead, I creep back in the bedroom, set an alarm on her phone for 8:00am, and place it on the nightstand. I lean down and plant a kiss on her cheek. I slide my hand up her thigh into her core. It’s wetter than it’s ever been, and I think at first, she’s going to wake up for me immediately. But she doesn’t stir, and when she doesn’t, I take my hand away. I want to be there for her in every type of way—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I wipe my wet hand against my pants and quietly walk out of the room.
Outside, I don’t turn on any lights and I allow my eyes to adjust as best they can in the dark. The coals from the fireplace help me find my way around the living room, and the bearskin rug lets me know when I’m outside the open-concept living room. The embers provide a soft glow as I creep my feet along the hardwood floor. I cross the kitchen keeping my balance with the granite countertops. The dull light of a pale moon provides a dismal backdrop to the front glass façade of the house. I find a pad of paper and a pen and write:
Kelly,
It’s you. It hasn’t always been you, but it will always be you. You’re the words to a story I’ve been trying to write my whole life, and tonight I determined the ending.
Love you, Love me, Adam
P.S. The maid will be here at 9am. Please make sure you’re gone before then.
I leave the note on the counter and walk to the entrance, picking up my items, and gently shutting the door behind me. I look down at my phone before getting into my black Range Rover. It’s 12:30am. Shit, I’m half tempted to stay with Kelly, but I promised Sarah I would come home tonight, and although I won’t get in until nearly 2am, at least, I’ll wake up next to her.