At this point he was open to most anything. He missed her so much his chest ached. And he was kicking himself on a daily basis for saying such stupid things to her. He'd been mad at himself, and he'd taken it out on her.
Honestly, though, he should have been thanking her. Because the very best thing that had come out of the whole fiasco was the certainty that he didn't want to be a judge.
He wanted what he'd always wanted--what he'd been sidetracked from. He wanted a small firm where he dealt with real people.
Hopefully, those real people wouldn't mind that he'd been caught feeling up his girlfriend in public. Idiot.
"So what are you doing now? Did you lose your job?"
"Remarkably, no. They're keeping me on conditionally. I think they're uncertain whether my notoriety will draw clients or push them away."
"And you're okay with that?"
"What choice do I have?"
She smiled wide and pointed to herself. "Offer still stands."
His brows rose. "You don't want to. I'm pretty sure at this point I'm toxic."
"The hell you are. This will blow over. I promise you. Especially once you and the supposed skank are back together."
"If," he said. "I'm honestly not sure we'll ever get back together." The thought made his gut clench. Surely he'd find a way...
"From what you've told me, you haven't tried groveling."
He cocked his head, trying to read her mind. "What are you thinking?"
"That tomorrow's Wednesday," she said. "And I have an idea."
Chapter Fourteen
The Wednesday night of the Mr. September contest at The Fix on Sixth was even more crowded than usual, probably because Hannah had leaked to the press that Easton was going to be there. She'd also told Selma that she should come, and now Selma sat on a bar stool, wondering if this was a good idea or a very, very bad one. Not because Easton apparently wanted to talk to her desperately, but because the press kept surreptitiously snapping pictures of her.
"I thought you said he wanted to talk to me," she said to Hannah as they sipped Loaded Coronas.
"He does. He will." She leaned closer. "Are you any less mad at him?"
Selma sighed. "I don't know. He hurt my feelings--a lot. But he was partly right. I did do stupid things early on. We could have just as easily gotten caught the time I made him go down on me in the ladies' room at The Winston."
Hannah's eyes widened. "You do know that I can't un-hear that, right?"
"Hey, he's going to be your law partner. That's like a marriage, right?"
Hannah grinned. "You are less mad at him."
"I just--he blamed me. And it didn't feel good."
"I promise you, he feels terrible about that. He knows it was a dick move. He has no defense."
"Then what does he want to talk about?"
But Hannah only lifted her shoulder, which meant that Selma had to wait until she found out. And Selma wasn't in the mood to wait.
She wanted to talk to Easton.
The truth was, as furious as she'd been after the museum, the bottom line was that he'd gotten into her heart. She wanted him. Hell, she needed him. And she was more than ready to talk to him.
So where the hell was he?