揟hat抯 where you抮e wrong.?I push my bowl aside and slide my foot between his legs. 揑抣l be the kind of person who enjoys doing nothing at all by then.?
He laughs quietly to himself, his hand wrapping around my ankle. 揝ure you will, Gemma.?
31
The Roberts case finally goes to trial, though it should not. I love a good fight, but the attorneys are the only ones coming out of this better off for it. Between the extra work we had to put in to get ready and the cost of the trial itself, they抣l each be out a hundred grand by the time this is done.
That抯 how men win, because they抮e often the only ones with the money to keep going. My mother lost, and she was still paying off the credit card she used for her legal bills by the time I got out of law school.
I throw everything I have at Dennis Roberts: the employee he paid off, the affair, the family trip he no-showed for because of work. Melissa stayed home with the kids梥he抯 a room parent, she manages the kids?soccer team梑ut Dennis doesn抰 even know who their pediatrician is. He isn抰 the one who took Jaden to the hospital when he broke his arm, he isn抰 the one who watched the baby while they were there. He wanted fifty percent custody, but as my questions continue, his shoulders sag, as if he already knows he抯 lost.
He gets the kids for two weekends a month, and a two-week block during the summer. I congratulate Melissa, pack my bags, and go to the bathroom. When I walk out, Dennis Roberts is on his phone with someone, his shoulders hunched over.
揑 don抰 know, Mom,?he says. 揑 don抰 even get to see them for two weeks.?His voice cracks on that last word, this big man with all his money and power. I watch as he covers his face with his hand, and his shoulders shake silently.
And I want to feel good about it, but instead, as I walk away, I抦 sick. I hated those attorneys who attacked my mother when I was fifteen. I guess I should抳e known growing into one of them was never going to feel great.
Ben comes over later than normal, following a client dinner. His mouth lands on mine with relief, as if I抦 the one part of the day he looked forward to.
The bag he抯 got in his left hand presses to my thigh. I laugh against his mouth. 揟he dinner you抳e brought me feels excessively cold.?
揧ou told me you ate already. This is dessert.?He steps back and sets the bag on the counter. 揧ou sounded unhappy on the phone, so I thought it might be an ice cream kind of night. I brought three kinds because I didn抰 know what you liked.?
He sets the options on the counter and I point at one, fighting a smile. For a heartless lawyer, he抯 incredibly sweet sometimes.
He pours himself a glass of wine then leads me to the couch, where I curl up against him with my Cherry Garcia.
He sips his Malbec. 揟ell me what happened. It was Roberts today, right? The basketball coach??
揧eah.?I slide the spoon over the surface of the ice cream, looking for cherries. 揑 obliterated him.?
He laughs. 揟hat seems like the kind of thing you抎 normally be happy about.?
揑 saw him,?I whisper, 揷rying on the phone to his mom. And桰 don抰 know. I thought I wanted to practice family law, but sometimes I wonder.?
He presses his lips to the top of my head. 揧ou want to fight for the underdog, Gemma, and divorce is rarely that cut and dry.?
He抯 right. Even as terrible as my father was, he wouldn抰 have deserved to lose custody either. People are usually neither entirely bad or entirely good. There抯 a piece of me tired of pretending they are.
揧ou could always go to the public defender抯 office,?he suggests, and I smile. He sounds a bit like a Hallmark hero right now. Better than a Hallmark hero, because he isn抰 trying to steer me toward motherhood or some form of homemaking in lieu of my current profession.
揑 like shoes too much to live off a government employee抯 salary,?I reply. 揂nd I have to make partner. Men in upper management everywhere go out of their way to keep the circle closed, just like Fiducia has, hoping the women who want in will just give up. Fuck that.?
揟hen let抯 make sure you get it,?he says, as if he wants it for me as much as I want it for myself.
I blink away tears. It抯 felt, for a long time, like I抦 in this alone.
I抦 scared to let myself think I no longer am.
On Sunday morning, he抯 in the process of getting dressed when I wake. 揝orry,?he whispers.
揧ou抮e leaving??I don抰 know why I care. I was going into the office anyway.
He nods. 揃runch at my mom抯。 It抯 kind of a tradition.?
His gaze flickers to me. For a moment I think he抯 going to invite me, and I抣l have to find a way to say no, but he just keeps getting dressed. We抳e been doing this for weeks now, and I抳e still never met anyone he cares about. I抳e still never even gone to his place桰抳e suggested the latter and he alludes to the construction or says it抯 too far. I can hardly argue that it抯 only twenty minutes away when I抦 pretending I neither know nor care where he lives. If we were at all serious, though, it would probably bother me.