Icebreaker (22 page)

Authors: Deirdre Martin

Tags: #Women lawyers, #Contemporary, #Legal, #General, #Romance, #Hockey players, #Fiction

“We won’t need to hide,” Sinead reiterated, trying not to sound impatient. “Your case will be over. You won’t be my client anymore.”

Adam wasn’t buying it. “And what if the case drags on for months? We’re going to be apart all that time?”

“I guess.” She hadn’t thought of that.

Adam shook his head obstinately. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Sinead felt like she’d been punched. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“What are you saying? That we’re not worth the wait?”

“I’m talking about integrity.”

Sinead rubbed her temples. “You don’t get it. This allows me to keep my integrity and not lie. We’re going around in circles. I don’t know why you can’t wait this out with me.”

“Because I shouldn’t have to. Because if you called them on their shit—”

“I’m not risking my career, Adam. Sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

“Yes, I guess we are.” Sinead rose, struggling to quell the shaking she felt inside. “I’ll be in touch about the case.”

“Yup.” Aloof Adam had returned.

“I can see myself to the door, thank you.”

Adam disappeared into the kitchen.

Sinead slid her feet back into her pumps and walked to the door. She hated the sharp, hard tapping of her shoes on his bare wooden floor.
Ironic
, she thought. What she was now thinking about Adam was what he’d thought about her in the beginning: that she was sharp. Hard and brittle.

He was wrong. He didn’t know what he was talking about. It was different for women. And if he couldn’t get that through his excessively thick skull, well, that was his problem. She had to do what she had to do.

“Someone’s got a
puss on.”

Sinead ignored her mother’s comment as she dug into her mashed potatoes. It was the O’Brien Sunday dinner, and though she hadn’t wanted to come, she thought it might make her feel better after what happened with Adam. It didn’t.

“Work trouble?” Quinn asked, even though the inquiring look in his eyes told Sinead he was really asking something else.

“Work overload,” said Sinead. “As always.”

“Don’t know how you’re ever going to find a man if all you do is work, work, work,” her mother said under her breath.

“Ma, please,” said Sinead.

“What’s going on?” Maggie mouthed.

“Later,” Sinead mouthed back.

Her gaze drifted to baby Charlie, sitting in the same high chair she and her siblings had all used. Puréed carrots were smeared around his mouth, and he was kicking his legs happily. Sinead smiled at him tentatively. He smiled back, a big, gummy, baby smile that made Sinead happy. Maybe a connection was being made after all.

Quinn and Natalie left before dessert; they had to catch a flight to Paris. Sinead felt guilty; she still hadn’t made it to the restaurant Natalie was managing. She never seemed to have time for all the things she wanted or intended or needed to do.
You don’t make the time,
a small voice in her head accused. How her head hadn’t exploded yet from all the voices packed inside was a mystery to her.

Charlie began whining to get out of his chair. Maggie took a washcloth to his face, wiped the mashed carrots off, and lifted him onto her lap. Sinead dipped her head tentatively.

“Mags? Maybe I—?”

Maggie smiled. “Sure.”

She handed Charlie off to Sinead. He was squirmy in her arms, all restless energy.
What now?
Sinead thought, mildly alarmed.

“Hi, Charlie,” she cooed. “Hey, there.”

Charlie stared at her a moment, then turned back to Maggie, his chubby arms held out imploringly as he burst into tears.

“C’mere,” said Maggie, wincing apologetically as she took Charlie back. “Don’t take it personally. He’s going through a big Mommy phase.”

“I can attest to that,” said Brendan. “Takes one look at my mug and starts to howl.”

Sinead hoped they weren’t just saying that.

“You okay?” Maggie asked.

Sinead smiled weakly. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “No worries. Anyone want more coffee?”

“All right, what’s
up?”

Sinead and Maggie were in the kitchen, cleaning up. After dessert, they’d told their mother she looked exhausted, and that she should take a small nap. It was true; she did look tired. But getting her out of the kitchen also gave them a chance to chat privately.

“Nothing’s up,” Sinead said miserably.

“Adam—?”

“I was seeing Adam, and now I’m not.”

“Because—”

Sinead sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“What isn’t? Spill it.”

Sinead told Maggie everything, fighting tears as she remembered Adam calling her gutless. She had never, ever in her life thought of herself that way, and the fact that it was her boyfriend who had called her that was sending her into a tailspin of self-doubt that was overwhelming.

“He’s got some nerve,” Maggie fumed, snapping her dish towel like a whip. “On his high horse, with no appreciation of how you’ve busted your ass. ‘
I’m disappointed in you
,’ ” she mimicked. “Does he have any idea how things work in the real world? What a jerk.”

Sinead lifted her head to look at her sister. “What if he’s right?”

“He’s not right,” Maggie snapped.

“I’ve lost him,” Sinead said quietly. “Things had barely begun, and I blew it.”

“Sounds like a blessing to me. And it’s his loss.” Maggie put a hand on her hip. “If any man ever had the balls to tell me he was disappointed in me when I was trying to save my job
and
the relationship, I’d kick those balls down the hall and tell him to go chase them.”

“Normally that would be my MO, too—albeit it a bit more delicately—but this threw me for a loop.”

“I can see why,” Maggie said, grabbing a damp pot to dry. “But in the meantime, you need to think about yourself. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Sinead said glumly.

Sinead sat in
Jeff Kaplan’s plush office, waiting for him, Don Epps, and Terry Callahan to arrive. She knew why they wanted to see her. She could
feel
it.

“Sinead.” Jeff Kaplan’s voice was cordial as he entered briskly with Don and Terry in tow.

“Gentlemen.” Sinead rose, shaking all their hands.

Jeff motioned for her to sit back down as he rounded his desk, while Don and Terry each sat in an antique Hepplewhite chair facing her on the couch. They might not be the biggest law firm in Manhattan, but they were one of the top-earning ones.

Jeff settled down comfortably behind his desk. “First of all, we’re thrilled you decided to take on the Joyce case. We couldn’t think of anyone better.”

“I’d like to keep Oliver abreast of things just in case we need to litigate.”

“Put that on hold, if you will. Oliver has too much on his plate right now,” said Jeff.

Sinead gave a small nod. Nothing further needed to be said.

Jeff put his elbows on the desk, tenting his fingers. “How’s the Perry case going?”

“It’s going on a bit too long for my liking,” Sinead replied. “It’s obvious the DA is trying to drag it out until the elections.”

“Has he got a case?”

“There have been three assault cases like this in the history of the NHL. Only one resulted in a prosecution.”

“Good sign.” Jeff looked troubled as he sighed deeply.

“Look, I feel very awkward doing this, but I’m afraid some information has come to light that concerns us.”

Here it comes,
Sinead thought. “What’s that?”

“Another attorney at another firm informed us that you’re dating Adam Perry.”

This again?
Sinead thought. “It’s not true,” she said without hesitation.

The partners exchanged glances.

“This person claims to have seen you two together outside the office.”

The only thing she could figure out was that one of the law firm’s competitors saw them at the karaoke bar, at Maxie’s, or at Basilica, and had gotten the wrong idea. Not that it was any of their damn business. But the legal community could be extremely cutthroat, especially when it came to someone like Sinead, who’d risen up through the ranks quickly and had an impeccable reputation both inside and outside the office.

“We’ve met several times outside the office for dinner to discuss the case,” Sinead explained evenly. “Adam is more helpful when he’s relaxed. Haven’t you found the same to be true with some clients?”

They all agreed yes, that was true.

Sinead was itching to tell them that her personal life was none of their business, but she resisted. “I’m a professional. I can separate my work life from my private life.”

Jeff tilted back in his chair. “You
have
always been the consummate professional, Sinead, and nothing but an asset to this office. I hope you can forgive us for questioning you about this. We just had to make sure.”

“Of course.”
Of course it doesn’t matter when you screw your clients. You don’t even have relationships with them. It’s just sex.

Well, I told the truth,
Sinead thought as she walked back to her office
. I’m not seeing Adam
. The difference was, when the case wrapped, he wouldn’t be there waiting for her. No one would be.

“Oh, man.” Anthony
was laughing so hard he was wiping tears from his eyes as he switched off the DVD player. “I do believe that is their finest work.”

“Agreed,” said Adam. The two had just finished a three-hour Stooge marathon, culminating in the classic episode “Punch Drunk,” in which a pugilistic Curly goes berserk every time he hears the tune, “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Adam couldn’t count how many times he’d seen it, but it cracked him up every time. Today, however, he was laughing less than usual, and he knew why.

“Another brew?” Anthony asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“Comin’ right up.”

Anthony headed for the kitchen, leaving Adam alone in Anthony’s living room. It was a place where Adam felt welcome. Cozy, lots of bookshelves, many of them filled with cookbooks. A picture of Anthony and Vivi on their wedding day. A photo of Michael, Theresa, and their kids. Adam made a mental note to call Rick. They hadn’t talked in a while.

Anthony emerged from the kitchen, tossing him a beer. “I still can’t believe Vivi and Sinead won’t give the Stooges a chance.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Adam cracked open his beer, pouring some down his throat. Anthony was eyeballing him closely.

“Got a bit of a dark one on today, eh?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve looked like a miserable prick from the minute you walked in the door. What’s goin’ on?”

Adam shrugged. “Ah, you know . . . just shit.”