Another year passes…The front door burst open, and Reed rushed in. “Dad!”I looked up from the sofa. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”He hurried over. “Look!”I groaned. “Another computer?”Reid strolled in, grinning. “Me and my buddy built it over the last couple of weeks. He did most of it himself.”I ruffled my son’s hair, knowing he hated it. Or at least pretended to. “Good job.”“You should see the games it has on it. It is wicked.” He turned and fist-bumped with his buddy. He took off upstairs, and I knew he would be playing for as long as we allowed.My son had two favorite people in the world aside from us.Number one was without a doubt, Reid Matthews. When we first brought our Reed home, it had been difficult. Despite our great start, he had been terrified of being rejected again and had pushed us away, constantly testing us. Reid understood his fears and could relate to him on a level we couldn’t comprehend. He became his friend and confidant, bonding over computers, pizza, and

Halton“Tell your client he has twelve hours to decide.”There was a pause on the phone.“Did you hear me?” I snapped.“It’s nine p.m., Hal. You expect him to decide tonight?”“This is his fucking kid. If he’s really the parent he insists he is, the decision will take five minutes.”I slammed down the phone, spinning my chair so I faced the window. I drew in some much-needed oxygen. Long, steady breaths that would calm and center me.It didn’t help.I reached toward the sideboard and poured a splash of scotch into the crystal tumbler. Briefly, I held the glass to the light, admiring the golden hue, then I tossed back the liquor. The burn in my throat felt good, the rich smoothness of the scotch coating my taste buds and warming my chest. I poured another shot and sat back, staring into the night.The early autumn evening was clear. The lights of the city shone brightly all around me. Up on the fortieth floor, in the corner office, I had a clear view of Toronto harbor and the city. I

“Yes.”Her fingers tightened on her wineglass, and I could read her thoughts.“I wouldn’t do that.” I indicated the wineglass she was slowly lifting. “My scotch would burn far more going in your direction.”“You wouldn’t,” she gasped quietly. She eyed me warily, unsure if she believed her own words.She was right. I would never throw liquor in the face of a woman, no matter what she had done. I had class and manners.And I wouldn’t want to waste the scotch.“Try me,” I taunted.“You’re an asshole.”“Guilty as charged.”Her fingers moved again, and I waited, cursing the fact that I had worn my favorite gray suit today. The red wine was gonna stain it for sure.Dammit.Then, in a move I didn’t expect, she picked up her water glass and flung the contents at me. I tilted my head, and thankfully, her aim was awful and most of the cold liquid flew past my shoulder, hitting the wall behind me, the sound loud in the quiet restaurant, the ice hitting the surface and the water running in rivule

I rubbed my tired eyes, glancing toward the clock. I wasn’t surprised to see it was past nine. Darkness had descended outside, the only light in my office the reading lamp behind me. My lined notepad was filled with my “chicken scratch,” as Rene called it. Wyatt had found a lot of bad behavior from my client’s soon-to-be ex-husband, some of which would help disprove his side of the story and give any judge pause before granting him anything but supervised visitation.I stood, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and sipping it as I stared out the window and thinking.I only took cases I believed in. I fought for embattled spouses, kids too little to have their voices heard, teenagers being screwed by the system. I dug and searched until I was certain my clients were on the up-and-up, refusing to represent anyone I felt was lying. You lied to me, and that was it. I removed myself from the case. The truth, I could handle, work with, figure out how to let it do the least amount of

Another attorney at the table chuckled. “Now, now, Scott. This is social. When we’re out of the courtroom, we can all get along, right?”Scott’s expression said it all, even though he laughed along with everyone else, but he insisted she switch seats. He made a great show of flinging his arm around her shoulders and kissing her. I was certain at the time she had turned her head slightly, so the kiss fell on her cheek rather than her mouth. I studiously ignored Scott the rest of the evening, although I found my glance fixated on Fiona on occasion.She spoke little to anyone else and seemed uncomfortable and anxious, as if she felt out of her depth. On occasion, a pained looked crossed her face, and I wondered if Scott’s behavior embarrassed her. I recall thinking she looked out of place beside him—almost too gentle to be associated with him. I wondered then how she could stand to live with someone so unscrupulous—unless she was cut from the same cloth. I knew all too well that appearan