Page 7 of Sing Your Secrets
three
Reese
On Friday morning, I watch Rona, our office secretary, tend to the giant bouquet of Petey’s flowers I brought in for her almost two weeks ago now.
“Aren’t those on their last leg?”
“Not even close.” She tuts distractedly as she pulls away the dying petals and fluffs the fat rose heads. “These are the most beautiful flowers anyone has ever given me. I’m riding this wave to the end. Thank you again, dear.”
Damn.Now I feel guilty. I should’ve had all of Petey’s bouquets delivered to Rona if I knew they would’ve made her this happy. I have no clue where Harry has been dropping them off, or if Petey stopped the deliveries after my text. All I know is it’s been over a week since I’ve started my morning with his goofy self at my front door. Mission accomplished.
“You’re welcome, Rona. Hey, is Eli still in? Or did he take lunch?” I nod down the hallway of attorney offices. Us lowly paralegals all reside on the opposite side of the offices.
“He’s got a meeting in thirty. He’s still here,” she mumbles. She returns her attention to the flowers as she shifts stems and leaves around trying to bring her dying roses back to life.
I strut down the hallway like I’m on a mission, but I hesitate outside of Eli Walsh’s office door. Documents in one hand, my other hand raised to knock, I take a deep breath, preparing myself. Our last encounter was...uncomfortable.
Eli and I had been hooking up off and on for more than a year. It’d come in spurts. Sometimes I’d simply be his paralegal, and he, my acting supervisor. When he was single, we’d go at it like rabbits in his office. It wasn’t all sex, we’d hang out and watch movies too. He’d pour me wine and rub my feet. I’d give him superb head… Okay, fine. It was mostly sex.
Eli was fine. I like him. I’m just nowhere in the ballpark of loving him. We were friends. We were kind to one another and comforted each other. There was no pressure, no titles, and no expectations. I really thought we were on the same page.
Until last week when he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Knock, knock.
I brush my knuckles on his door so lightly, it’s like I’m hoping he doesn’t hear me.
“Come in,” he bellows.
Here we go.Opening the door, I poke my head in, expecting to be met with daggers, instead, he gives me his familiar warm sweet smile. Fuck, that’s worse. How come I can’t just love a guy like Eli Walsh—faithful, do-gooder attorney at law? He’s handsome. Eli’s dark hair is always neatly cut. His high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and clean-shaven face make him look like he’s in his early twenties, even at age thirty. He’s charming, well-spoken, and highly educated. My mom couldn’t have drawn up a better match for me in her mind.
He’s good for me.
But the spark, the ache, the desperation…It’s just not there.
“Hey, you got a minute?”
“For you, of course.” He rolls away from his computer monitor, giving me his full attention. If we were still hooking up, I’d lock this door, slide onto his desk, and hike my skirt up a bit while our knees bumped together. But today, I opt for the chair on the other side of his desk after handing Eli the paperwork I’ve prepared.
“I wanted to make sure I got these documents right. I have a friend who needs a fast annulment. I’ve prepared enough divorce paperwork for Henley I can do it in my sleep, but annulments have been few and far between.”
Henley & Associates is one of the most sought-after divorce law firms in Denver. Most of our clients make well into the seven figures and we are particularly ruthless when it comes to the stay-at-home spouse. Henley, especially, has made it his personal plight to ensure that stay-at-home moms and wives who have dedicated their entire lives to supporting professional athletes, big-name CEOs, and successful business owners, are compensated fairly amidst their divorces—aka make out like bandits. He’s basically the Robin Hood of the celebrity divorce world, who likes to target rich cheating bastards.
Henley’s terrifying when he wants to be. I’ve watched him in a courtroom once make a cocky-ass, richer-than-God NBA player bawl like a baby over his adulterous ways. His ex-wife got more than half his fortune, and a heartfelt apology that day.
As a paralegal, I get to stay mostly behind the scenes. I’m buried in paperwork daily, so I get to pop in my headphones while I prepare court documents and pretend like I’m anywhere but here. As noble as I consider Henley and his team to be, I’d resign if I had any idea what I wanted to do with my life. All I know at this point is I’d like to stay in my mom’s good graces. Henley is very particular about his employees, even his paralegals. Mom had to call in a favor to get me this job.
Eli clicks his tongue as he flips through the pages. “Vegas wedding?”
“Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“There wasn’t alcohol involved?”
I’ve known Quinn’s organized, calculating, mission-oriented ass for seven years. The fact she got married on a whim in Las Vegas most definitely involved alcohol in some facet or another. But based on her text message, she and retired NFL superstar Cody Kartlin were most definitely sober when they exchanged vows.
“From what I gather, she just needed the paperwork.”
Eli squints at me, his expression full of questions, but he doesn’t press. “Annulments are complicated if they were both sober and of sound mind.”