7. Nostalgia

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Jagger

The moment our eyes met, I realized I wasn’t hallucinating. The man sitting in front of me…the one I’d been thinking about all week—was real, and he was here.

He stood up as I walked in, straight-backed, his expression unreadable. His dark hair looked softer under the office light, a few strands falling forward when he turned. He wore a neat gray suit that looked like it had been ironed twice, and a pair of glasses that made him look both older and more fragile. His eyes… hell, those eyes were something else. Silver-blue, almost unnatural, like they didn’t belong in this world.

“Mr. Walker,” he said, voice low but steady. “Jordan Blake.”

I blinked, realizing he was introducing himself. “Jordan,” I repeated, his name settling awkwardly on my tongue. “Right. You—uh—came in without an appointment?”

“Your assistant said you were available.” His tone was clipped, professional, not an ounce of warmth in it. “I won’t take much of your time.”

He sat back down before I could say anything, crossing one leg over the other. The move was casual, confident, but his fingers were twitching slightly on his knee.

“Alright then,” I said, walking behind my desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Blake?”

He exhaled quietly, his jaw tightening. “I want a divorce. And I heard you’ve never lost a case.”

Straight to the point. No hesitation. No small talk.

I leaned back in my chair, studying him. “That’s quite the reputation to keep up with. What’s the situation?”

“My wife is cheating on me,” he said, looking me dead in the eye. “I want the custody of my son. She’s not fit to raise him.”

Something in the way he said it hit me hard. Not because of the words, but because of how calm he sounded while saying them. Like the wound was too deep to bleed anymore.

“Why do you want the divorce?” I asked, even though I already knew—or thought I did. I couldn’t help wondering if he remembered that night, the way he had poured his heart out in the bar.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you perhaps have memory loss? That won’t be good for me in court.”

My throat went dry. He remembered. Every damn thing.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. My heart gave a hard thump against my ribs, a wave of something close to nostalgia washing through me. The image of that night flashed in my mind—the slurred voice, the broken words, his hand clutching my sleeve. And the kiss I’d been pretending never happened.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus. “You said your wife’s cheating. What’s your evidence?”

He adjusted his glasses, leaning slightly forward. “It’s not just the affair. There’s more. But for now, I want to handle the divorce quietly. The rest can wait.”

There was something guarded about the way he said that. I could tell he was hiding something, maybe a whole lot of things. But I didn’t push it.

“So… you’re looking to file for full custody?” I asked, watching him.

“Yes.” His tone didn’t waver. “My son’s three. I’ve taken care of him more than she ever did. But she’ll use anything she can against me.”

“What do you mean—‘anything’?”

He hesitated. His fingers stilled, and for a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he looked up, meeting my eyes again. “At the hotel.”

My heart stopped.

“What?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my pulse was hammering. He couldn’t mean that hotel. Could he?

“At the hotel,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “I woke up to a naked blonde girl beside me. My wife barged in with my asshole brother right behind her. And now she’s threatening to use that against me in court.”

I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding. For a terrifying second, I thought he was going to mention the kiss.

He didn’t. Thank God.

“I think it was a setup,” he continued. “I don’t remember touching that girl, or even talking to her. I was drunk, but not that drunk.”

He paused, his gaze flicking toward me. “You left your card, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound too affected. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

He nodded, like he’d already known that. “Good. Then I need you to prove it. That night—it wasn’t what it looked like. I want evidence that I was framed. My wife will use that scene to destroy my custody case.”

That was when my brain kicked into work mode. The curiosity, the memories, the mess of feelings—I shoved them aside. “Alright,” I said, pulling a legal pad closer. “Tell me everything that happened that night. From the bar to the hotel. Don’t leave anything out.”

He looked uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were there, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But you were pretty out of it. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“I remember some things,” he said quietly. “The rest is fuzzy. I don’t drink much, so… it hit me fast.”

“Fair enough.” I started jotting notes as he talked. “You said your wife barged in with your brother. Was that planned, you think?”

His jaw tightened again. “It had to be. They wanted a reason to make me look like the unfaithful one.”

“And the girl?”

He shook his head. “No idea who she is. I never saw her before that morning. But I swear I didn’t touch her.”

I looked at him. The way he said it was firm, steady, with that hint of desperation buried under control, there wasn’t a single lie in it.

“Alright,” I said, setting my pen down. “Then we’ll start from there. We’ll need to pull hotel security footage, get witness statements, and find out who that blonde was. If it’s a setup, we’ll prove it.”

He nodded, his expression softening just slightly, the first real crack in that wall he’d built around himself. “Thank you,” he said.

I leaned back, watching him. “Don’t thank me yet. This is going to get ugly before it gets better.”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “It already is ugly.”

I couldn’t help smiling a little. There was something about the way he said things so dry, so matter-of-fact—that made him impossible to read. “You always this calm when your life’s falling apart?” I asked.

He looked up at me, almost smiling. “You always this arrogant with your clients?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

That earned me the faintest smirk before he adjusted his glasses again and stood up. “Alright. I’ll have the documents ready by tomorrow. I assume you’ll need to meet my wife’s lawyer?”

“I’ll handle it,” I said. “You just make sure to answer your phone when I call. And stay away from your wife for now.”

He nodded, already halfway to the door. Before leaving, he turned back once more, eyes catching mine. “Thank you for that night, I hope I didn't bother you,”

I felt my pulse jump again. “Not enough to make it count,” I said, keeping my tone light.

He studied me for a second, then said softly, “Good.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving me staring at the door, wondering why the hell that one word hit harder than it should have.