All About the D

This double life is exhausting.

Glancing from my mother to Gary, I cringe that I have to give this shithead anything. “Tiffany and I broke up earlier this year for good. It was civil.” It wasn’t. “And we are still in the same social circles.” Unfortunately. “So now we run into each other at events like this. But I’m not unattached right now. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

I smile and say thank you and lead Drew off to the buffet table.

Because I can’t get away from that landmine fast enough.





23





Evie





When the coffee maker alarm sounds, I close the stack of files and scoot out from the kitchen table that’s set up in the staff lounge. I don’t have time to run out for coffee today, so this will have to do.

I’m still flying high from our trip to the country this weekend and the sweet things Josh texted me this morning. I keep telling myself this is too fast, that we need to slow down, but when I’m with him, I want more. I want it all. And it’s intoxicating and exhilarating and so damn scary, I’m not sure if I should run for cover or dive deeper.

I can’t lie. It bummed me out that we couldn’t spend the Fourth of July together, but his family seems too uptight to bombard them with the news that we’re dating at their picnic, and there wasn’t really time to discuss this with them beforehand. So maybe it’s good that Josh and I kept it simple, doing our own thing with our respective families until a good time arises where we can put our cards on the table.

I’m hoping my dad can look past the Cartwright name and see Josh for who he really is. Because unlike my mother, Josh isn’t stuck up or weird about money. He’s not snobby or high-brow. I’m sure if my dad gives him a chance, he’ll see that Josh is down-to-earth and wonderful.

The only drawback of dating Josh is my increasing paranoia of getting found out at work. I’m starting to feel tortured by keeping him a secret.

This, us, goes against every ethical fiber in me. I’ve never cheated on a test, I don’t cut in lines, and before Josh, I’ve never entertained the idea of sleeping with a client, much less considered a relationship with one.

I should talk to Malcolm and switch Josh to a different attorney, but I keep obsessing over the possibility that this could expose Josh to someone who is less conscientious about maintaining his anonymity. In fact, last week, I overheard one of the partners joke about a client’s boob job and how she used her husband’s life insurance to pay for it after he passed away. It took me all of two seconds to figure out who they were talking about. I can only imagine the conversations that might go down if a few more people here get wind of Josh’s blog, and I will lose my shit if I overhear them talking about how he’s some kind of deviant.

This is a touchy subject with Josh too, because while he wants us to be open about our relationship, I know he doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of switching to a different attorney.

But maybe it’s time we talk about this and make a plan.

As I pour my cup of coffee at the counter, Angela, Nathan, and a few other staff members stroll in, carrying bags of Chinese food.

“Want some?” Nathan asks.

I shake my head. “No, I just ate, but thanks.”

Although I’d love to dive into a container of egg rolls, I’ve been so good lately working out and eating well. It helps that I have tons of motivation. I guess having hot romps with a sexy guy will do that for a girl.

Honestly, I love being with Josh. From the way we help each other focus when we need to get our work done to how much I love hanging out and watching a movie with him. I bite my lip to hide a stupid smile, the one that always erupts when I think about him.

If only I didn’t have this exasperating work conflict hanging over my head.

Once I’m done prepping my coffee, I turn back toward the table and find that Angela has set down a container of sweet and sour chicken on top of my work. My eye twitches.

“Can I get those?” I ask as I head back toward her.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit remorseful, when she snatches up the folders.

I dart around the table and reach for them, but she ignores me, taking a moment to flip through my materials. What the fuck?

“Do you mind?” I say, yanking them away.

Her brow lifts, a sneer contorting her face.

What is that? What’s that look?

Glancing down, I’m grateful that the top file isn’t Josh’s, but now I’m worried she saw something she shouldn’t have.

When my eyes meet Nathan’s, he’s frowning. Please tell me he sees what a bitch she’s being right now.

He reaches into a bag and pulls out a fortune cookie and hands it to me as I make my way through the lounge in a huff. “One for the road.”

“Thanks.” I give him a small smile and take it, grateful that he’s been cool since that awkward brunch with Malcolm and Gwen.

I’m about to head back to my office when Angela laughs. “Did you guys hear about Simpson Sanders? He got disbarred for sleeping with his client.” I pause mid-step as she snorts with laughter and turn back to the table where Angela presides over a table now filled with my colleagues. My heart is pounding in my chest. Is she trying to tell me something? Does she know about me and Josh? “Sanders somehow convinced some old bat to write him into her will. Idiot.”

Everyone starts chiming in, and within a minute, one of the guys pulls up the Oregon bar website so they can read about the details.

“The disciplinary board disbarred Portland attorney Simpson H. Sanders for commencing a sexual relationship with a client, dishonest conduct, charging excessive fees…”

The list goes on and on.

My coworkers are howling with laughter, but my attention snags on Rule 1.8 (j), which pertains to conflicts of interest. I know this one by heart. It’s the one that says attorneys can’t sleep with clients.

My stomach is in a knot, and sweat breaks out on my neck. Seriously, what am I doing? My whole life is on the line here. I’m crazy about Josh—ass-over-head crazy about him—but if we don’t maneuver this correctly at work, I’m jeopardizing my entire career.

Like a mannequin, I’m frozen in place as I process everything.

I’m on the verge of running back to my office and calling Josh to set up an appointment with Malcolm when Nathan’s voice cuts through my internal freak-out.

“Did you guys read Fleming’s email?” he asks, which is met with immediate groans.

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