Lawfully Yours (21 page)

I look back to see Jordan disappearing down the hall. Any hope of making things right between me, Jordan, and the firm disappears too.

CHAPTER 34

My stomach is so knotted from stress that
I almost double over. The chicken-salad-on-rye sandwich I picked up from the building’s cafeteria sits uneaten on my desk. The mayo’s turned brown. I take it to the break room to throw it out. The smell, however, lingers in my office. At this point, I don’t care if I never eat again. Better to die from hunger than incessant stress-induced vomiting.

Though I have an important file in front of me, any attempt to read it ends up with all the words in a jumble. If I’ve managed to absorb even fifteen sentences, that’s a lot.

Crap. It’s already five o’clock at night. I give up all pretense of accomplishing anything and get my coat and keys. I walk to my car with my shoulders so high they scrape my ears.

At home I shower. The heat goes through me until my shoulders set back a little. Relative relaxation lasts until the phone rings all of ten minutes later. My shoulders immediately return to ear level.

Jordan. Bracing myself for terrible news, my hand hesitates before I pick up the receiver. The brightest silver lining I can conjure up is that I can always get a new job.

“Finally!” he says, voice flooded with relief. “I kept calling your desk as soon as it was five, but you didn’t pick up. You didn’t answer your cell phone either.”

“I left early. What happened?”

“Can I come over? I want to talk to you in person.”

Putting the receiver down, I feel like throwing up.

Jordan’s finally back at my apartment. He greets me with no words, bending down to kiss me hard on the lips right in the doorway. This time, instead of my normal response of passion, relief washes over me. My shoulders inch their way down to their normal position.

“Did Larry follow up with you?” I ask when he lets me go. I shut the door and we walk over to the couch to sit down.

“Yeah. Your job is safe. You’d have a sexual harassment suit if the firm takes action against you, and Larry knows it. What would his defense be, that you refused to be pimped out?”

It’s always about sexual harassment with this firm. “How did it go for you?” I ask tenuously.

“Well enough. They can’t claim that I should have let potential harm come to an associate. Larry is upset, though. He had a rough call with the father, who wasn’t too keen on your side of the story. Of course, Larry gave him a very watered down version. Larry’s switching Jerry Senior’s work over to Carl Roberts, hoping it will smooth things over.”

“Won’t that affect your book of business?” I ask, stomach acids tossing about like rough seas.

“Yep,” Jordan says calmly.

“You don’t seem too worried.” Maybe he’s gone crazy.

“Somewhat. It’s not a great situation, but I’m not going to feel bad about it. If I had the opportunity to do anything different, I wouldn’t. Do you really think I could have left Jerry there to harass you, or do something worse? I couldn’t have lived with myself if I didn’t try to stop him.” He puts his arms around me and kisses me softly on my forehead. “Maybe all this crap happening is a good thing. At least I know you care about me.”

“What finally proved it?” I say gently.

“You telling Larry we weren’t dating. I know how badly you wanted to tell him the truth. You did what was best for me, not what was best for you.”

“I’m sorry you wound up losing a client over this.”

“It’s Spalone’s fault, not yours. What’s done is done. Let’s put it all behind us. As far as I’m concerned, this office problem is now solved.”

“Too bad I still have another office problem to deal with,” I mutter.

“You do?”

I tell him about Helen and her crusade of getting back the book I don’t have. Jordan arches an eyebrow, then picks up his cell phone.

“What’s her number?”

“But you’re not my boss anymore.”

“Who gives a shit? She’ll never know. It’s like negotiation. Sound authoritative and no one will question you.”

I guess I’m still learning from him. He dials her number and leaves a message in their general mailbox. “This is Jordan Grant, and this message is for Helen Stone. I’m a partner at Grovas & Cleval, and as such, am responsible for Susan Linkovitch. You apparently didn’t get Susan’s previous correspondence in which she advised you she does not have your book. It is not acceptable for you to keep accusing one of our associates of corporate theft. Your doing so amounts to slander. She does not want you to contact her again, and I assure you I have no interest in hearing further about this matter. To guarantee finality, I’ll personally send you a check for fifty dollars, which I am sure is quite in excess of the value of your treasured book.” He hangs up.

“Wow. That was pretty good. Why’d you offer to pay her though? I really didn’t take her stupid book.”

“She’s obviously nuts so I wanted to make sure she doesn’t hunt around to find out who the head partner is, and then call Larry. The less he hears about my intervention for you, the better.”

“Thanks for doing that.”

“You’re welcome. Have you realized yet I truly love you?”

I nod. A smile creeps over my face for what feels like the first time in a long while. I’m surprised after these difficult days I remember how to smile. But since my facial muscles are obviously working just fine, I lean forward to kiss him on the lips as sensuously as I know how. “Stay with me, Jordan. I’ve missed you.”

I take the hand he offers as he leads me to the bedroom.

CHAPTER 35

Leila’s invited so many people from the firm to her wedding that
she’s no longer the only one preoccupied with it. Groups of associates talk endlessly about finding dates and bringing dates. I shut my ears without success. Though I’m beyond happy for Leila, her big day is making me crazy. It’s shoved the issue of commitment right in my face. Now front and center, it’s impossible to ignore.

In the race toward happiness, Leila’s love life sprints forward. My one-legged contender, however, barely passes the starting gate. The smart move would be to forfeit the game rather than witness a humiliating defeat. Limping forward, I give it another try. It’s only a few days before the wedding.

“You know this Saturday I’m going to Leila’s wedding.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I told her I was bringing someone.”

“You what?”

“Yes. On the R.S.V.P. card.”

His eyes widen. “Did you tell her who your intended guest is?”

“No. But I can surprise her by bringing you.” I muster up a weak smile. “See, I can be optimistic.”

“No such luck. I’m sorry I can’t go, Sue. Telling the firm would be fatal, especially given the whole episode with the Spalones.”

As if I could forget. “I understand,” I say softly. “But I need a better resolution. I still want you to be seen with me more than anything.”

“I know.” He leans over to pat my back. “But what we’ve got works.”

I feel my expression darken. Jordan, in contrast, does not look bothered at all. How can he be aloof when I’m upset? His cool demeanor strikes a hole in my heart. Maybe he doesn’t really care about me.

If weddings are supposed to be like fairy tales, I’ve got the Grimm Brother’s version. While Leila’s relationship is a beautiful fairy, mine is the troll under the bridge. It may be time to put the book down and turn a new page on life. I’m finally realizing I’m never going to get the happily ever after. Not as long as I stay with Jordan, Mr. Happy-As-Is. My stomach sinks.

“Growing up, I never thought I’d want to spend my life with someone,” I say, voice breaking. “I thought that I was happiest by myself, a loner. Then I met you. You’re the one guy I want to be with. And yet deep down, I don’t think you really want to be with me.” I choke back a cry. “I’d sacrifice everything for you. But you’re not willing to sacrifice a thing.”

“But—”

“Jordan, I can’t be with you anymore. I’m sorry. Please leave.”

He looks shell-shocked as he gathers up his wallet, keys, and jacket and heads out. The door, like my heart, is slammed shut.

The past few days have left me like a zombie. My head tells me I’ve made the right decision, but my heart—or what’s left of it—disagrees. My mood is a dark storm cloud. I try to reach down deep inside to believe the sunshine will come back someday.

Jordan hasn’t called once. Not hearing his voice has been hard but helpful in its own tortured way. He obviously hasn’t changed his mind so I know I did the right thing. Reminding myself of this fact has been the only motivator getting me out of bed, into work and back into my life. What’s left of it, anyway.

Leila has taken off the last few days to do whatever final wedding preparations need to be done. I miss her, of course, but it’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to bring her down with my mood. Especially when this is supposed to be the best time of her life. Due to a huge effort on my part, she didn’t pick up on anything being wrong with me before she left. She gave me a big good-bye hug and I gave her a kiss. All was well until she left me with the words, “Can’t wait to see who your date is! Bye.”

Ugh. I had completely forgotten.

Saturday is here. I have everything ready to go: my dress, makeup, accessories. I picked something simple and sunny, a wrap-around silk dress in a soft, dark rose color. The coordinating high heels and clutch purse are a slightly deeper shade. Loving the outfit, I had proudly showed it off to Jordan when I bought it a month ago. I shake off the memory and focus on getting ready.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, I put my hair up and burn in curls with my curling iron. After hesitating, I put on the pearl drop earrings Jordan bought me some weeks back. The outfit looks good, but that doesn’t matter anymore since I’m going to the wedding alone.

At the Baptist church where the services are to be held, I walk in and take a seat on the bride’s side. Slowly people filter in. I chat with my co-workers while we wait. Soon the ceremony starts but I barely listen to the reverend’s rambling. Spending most of my time focusing on a big-feathered hat in the pew in front of me, I finally find the reverend’s words connecting to my brain.

“We are not here to merely celebrate a wedding, but love,” he says. “Love is a miracle. It’s a miracle to find someone who accepts the flaws in us and loves us anyway. Leila and Marcus have done this, and they are living proof of miracles here on Earth.”

I wish I had a miracle.

Suddenly, everyone is standing up, shouting “Congratulations!” I look over to the church’s door and barely catch a glimpse of the new bride and groom making their way outside.

One event down. One to go. Everyone in the church walks out and heads toward the parking lot. I walk to my car along with the rest of the crowd, almost tripping because I’m looking inside my little clutch purse for my car key. Catching my balance, I wonder how anything could get lost in a bag this small. I stop to search again. The few extra minutes it takes me means I’m one of the last cars to leave the lot.

Once I arrive, I immediately look for the tiny card on the reception table with my name on it. It’s easily found among the few cards left. It says in little lilac letters: “Susan Linkovitch, Esq., and Guest, Table 24.”

I walk into the room. It’s beautiful with lilac flowers everywhere and gold caned-backed chairs surrounding dozens of large lace trimmed tables. I find Table 24 and sit down. I’m one of the last to arrive. On my right is Brad, who is seated with his date. On my other side sits an empty chair.

Brad and the gal he brought chat with me. Diagonal to our table Allen is seated with Rochelle. This is going to be a long evening.

“Where’s your date, Sue?” asks Brad, concerned.

“He’s not coming, I’m afraid. Turns out he had to work today.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” exclaims Brad’s date in a rush of sympathy.

“Thanks. I’m disappointed, of course, but it’s okay. It’s exciting to be here for Leila. The ceremony was wonderful.” I smile and manage to steer the topic toward the wedding. If they can believe I’m okay with it, maybe they’ll drop the topic of who I was supposed to bring.

Waiters come over to serve the salads, fortuitously interrupting our conversation. The band starts to play and people get up to dance. It’s like Grovas’ holiday party all over again—I’m the odd girl out.

Sitting there for a few more minutes I suddenly hear a voice behind me.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asks.

“No, go ahead.” In a fog, I don’t look up.

“I’m sure the band members would rather you dance than just sit there staring at them.”

Okay, that was kind of snotty. I turn around in my chair to see. It’s Jordan wearing a sly smile. “I knew you couldn’t let a comment like that go,” he quips.

There he is, in a dark suit, white shirt, and rose-colored tie. He sees me look at it. “Yeah,” he says. “It matches what you’re wearing. I bought it yesterday. Had a devil of a time finding this shade.”

I’m glad he has a rosy complexion, since I’m sure I don’t—the blood has drained from my face. At least my heart still has blood left. After a long, frozen pause, I think I feel it beating again. “You’re here.” I don’t know if I’m asking a question or making a statement.

“Yes.”

“Ohhh-kay, but if you’re going to sit with me, people will wonder.”

“I don’t intend to sit. I intend to dance.” He extends his hand out to me.

I ignore the gesture. “Don’t you think if people see us dancing they will talk more about us than if we are simply sitting together?”

“I’m hoping dancing will have that effect, yes.” He offers me his hand again. I don’t take it. I manage to get up, but am not able to walk. I’m certain I’m stuck to the floor.

“Hmmm. You’re a crummy dancer. That’s a good thing for me to know about you.”

“Are you playing around, or have you gone completely crazy?”

He changes to a more serious tone. “Actually, Sue, I’m pretty clear headed right now. You told me when we got into this relationship that you knew what you were doing. Well, I know what I’m doing, too. Care to dance?”

I let those words sink in for a moment. Then my words fly forth like a robin from my mouth. “I love you.” I’m stunned I said this. If Jordan is stunned too, he doesn’t say anything. He just takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor.

The song playing is a slow one. He wraps his arms around me and we dance. I’m blissfully unaware of anything other than being with him. Soon though, Leila’s “Oh my God!” filters through.

Moving quickly, I put my arm on her back and lead her out of the reception room and to the bathroom down the hall. It dawns on me as I walk her out that I’ve left Jordan standing there alone, and I’ve had her leave Marcus standing by himself, too. Well, I can only fix one problem at a time.

“Is my dancing with Jordan too distracting for your wedding? Because if it is, we’ll stop.”

“Jordan Grant is your guest?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I.”

“You knew you were bringing him and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know I was bringing him,” I say, and that’s the truth. “I was hoping to bring him.”

“You had to know he was coming.”

“I only found out about ten minutes before you did. I’m sorry, Leila, it wasn’t my intent to create a commotion at your wedding. Do you want us to leave?”

“Heck no, my wedding will definitely be the talk of the town now!”

With that, we walk back into the reception room, me at a slow pace, she at an exuberant trot.

Other people, however, aren’t quite so giddy over the situation. When I head back to Table 24 I see Rochelle speaking to Jordan. Suddenly I freeze again and I take a deep breath.

For once, I will not turn tail and walk away. It’s high time I learn how to effectively deal with uncomfortable situations. Besides, this situation’s pretty easy. It’s a good starting point. After all, it’s Rochelle who should feel uncomfortable around Jordan, not me.

Rochelle sees me coming and doesn’t look too happy to be receiving my company.

“Congratulations, Sue,” she snarls. “You landed the A-1 male at Grovas & Cleval. Who would have thought someone like you could do it?”

“I landed him?” I say to her. In all the time Jordan and I have been dating, I never thought about it that way. “I’m sure you meant to say you’re glad two special people are together, and you wish us every happiness in the world.”

Jordan unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “Look, Rochelle,” he says, “I haven’t been able to make this clear to you. I’m an actual person, not some kind of prize to be fought over. And, by the way, I always thought I’d wind up with someone like Sue.” Reaching for my hand, he holds it in his.

“You’re no prize, let alone one to be fought over,” Rochelle scoffs and storms away.

I survey the scene. Quite a few people are staring, all with similarly shocked facial expressions—especially Bill, with Allen as a close second. I feel the blood rush to my face. My complexion must match my dress and Jordan’s tie. Jordan doesn’t seem perturbed, though. He actually laughs.

The band takes its break and dinner is served. Jordan motions me back to our seats. Blowing off the gesture, I stay where I am. “I was hoping when we told people that
there would be a lot less drama. Do you think we need to stay any longer?”

“This is actually more entertaining than how I thought it would turn out. But we can go if you’re satisfied we’ve shown everyone that we are a couple.”

“I think we’ve made that point.”

“Okay then. Just one more thing before we leave.” Then, right by Table 24, he leans over and gives me a light kiss on the lips. “Now we’ve made our point. Now we can go,” he says. He’s wearing a grin the size of Texas as he waves bye to our gawkers. We head out the ballroom doors.

Outside of the reception hall, Jordan tells me we’ll pick up my car later because he’s driving me back home. “Aside from wanting your company, you look like you’re in no condition to drive. Are you going to faint?” he jokes.

I don’t answer him, but I’m not feeling faint. I feel like I’m floating. I continue floating all the way back to my apartment. He follows me inside.

“Sue, I need to ask you, did you mean what you said back there? I want to make sure it wasn’t a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“I meant every word of it. Rochelle Van Houten is Satan’s bitch queen.”

“Interesting to know. But not what I meant.”

“Oh,” I say smiling. “In that case, I meant the other thing too.”