Authors: Deirdre Martin

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

Icebreaker (30 page)

“What was that about, dude?” Esa asked.

“She’s a mail-order bride,” Sebastian revealed.

Tully Webster’s mouth fell open. “No way.”

“Why would I lie?” Sebastian countered. “He picked her out of a book.”

“Jesus,” said Esa, craning his neck to look at the couple. “I thought they hooked up pretty fast.”

“Besides, who in her right mind would marry Ulfie?” Tully pointed out.

“Hey, wife number one was a pretty hot number,” Tully’s wife, Annie, reminded him.

“She was obsessed with Sweden. Remember? He couldn’t take listening to ABBA day and night. She’d only have sex with him if he let her play ‘Dancing Queen’ over and over.”

Sinead stifled a laugh.

“So what if this chick is mail order? People do a lot of things to get their green card,” said Sebastian. “If it works for them, who are we to judge?”

“Yeah?” Saari smirked at him over his glass of champagne. “That the story with you and Lennie?”

“You’re an idiot,” said Sebastian. “We’re not married.”

“Yet.”

“That’s right. But keep being a wiseass, and we won’t be inviting you to our wedding.” They both laughed.

“Ready to dance?”

Carolyn hesitated a moment before accompanying Adam to the dance floor. Sinead looked at Jamie out of the corner of her eye; he was vehemently shaking his head no. Sinead was pretty sure that he’d change his mind once he saw what a good time his sister was having.

Sinead’s gaze was set on Adam and his pint-sized dancing partner. It was a slow dance, and like so many other instances where adults dance with children, Carolyn’s feet were atop Adam’s. It was adorable.

Esa Saari and his girlfriend were playing such an intense game of tonsil hockey that Sinead was tempted to say, “Get a room!” She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Sebastian smiling at her. “Would you like to dance?”

Sinead was just rising from her chair when Jamie’s head shot up. “You said you were going to dance with me!”

“You’re right.” She looked at Sebastian. “Sorry, Seb. I’m already taken. Maybe later?”

“Of course,” he said gallantly.

Sinead suppressed a smile as she strolled out onto the dance floor with Jamie, who had a very serious and determined look on his face as he made a beeline for his sister and Adam.

“We’re dancing now,” he said with a smirk. “So you two can sit down.”

“Dude, there’s room enough for everyone to dance,” Adam assured him. The Village People’s “YMCA” came on. Adam looked excited. “Watch
this.
”

When the song hit the famous chorus, Adam showed them how to form the letters
Y M C A
with their arms in time to the music. Adam’s teammates looked stunned. Sinead hesitated a moment, then started dancing, too. She and Adam caught each other’s eye and smiled.

The four of them stayed on the dance floor for song after song. Sinead was getting tired, but she was having so much fun with the kids and Adam that she didn’t want to miss a thing. She was doing the twist with a delighted Carolyn when it dawned on her that she wasn’t hopeless with children. She
could
connect with them. All it took was letting your guard down, being willing to be silly, and talking to them without condescension, among other things. Her thoughts tracked back to her night with Charlie.
I was too uptight,
she thought.
Kids pick up on that
. She vowed that next time she babysat, she would try to relax, reminding herself that things did not have to go perfectly according to a rigid schedule. You had to take it moment by moment; just be there. Sinead felt like she’d discovered the secret of the universe.

“Is this place
hell or what?”

Sinead took one look at the miserable expression on Oliver’s face and burst out laughing. “You’re unhinged.”

They were strolling the lush grounds of Beechtree, one of the most expensive private rehab centers in the country. Though it had taken her close to two hours to drive there, she knew it was worth it the minute she set eyes on Oliver: gone was his green pallor, his paunch, the glazed look she sometimes saw in his eyes. He looked healthy.

“You look great.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He gestured in front of them. “Look at this. Trees. Who needs this many fucking trees?”

“It’s pretty, Oliver. And serene.”

“Oh yeah, serene,” Oliver mocked. “I suppose you want to hear me recite the Serenity Prayer.”

“Not really.” Sinead squeezed his arm. “What are you so pissed about?”

Oliver threw his head back, looking at the sky. “Oh, Lord, how do I count the ways?”

“C’mon. Tell me.”

“All right, all right. I’m pissed that I’m here. I’m pissed that I have to share a room with a guy who never shuts the fuck up. I’m pissed I blew my career. I’m pissed I have to go to therapy, group therapy, fill in the fucking blank. I’m pissed there’s never anything good on cable.”

“That it?” Sinead teased.

“You don’t know what it’s like, Sinead,” he said miserably.

“Oliver.” Sinead halted. “You were drinking yourself to death. You did not lose your career; if you did, the firm wouldn’t be paying for your stay. You need to be here. You know you do.”

“What I need is a whiskey, neat—joke, joke, that was a joke. Except it wasn’t.”

They resumed walking. “Doesn’t it feel good to be sober all the time?”

“Fuck no!” Oliver scoffed. “Are you insane? It’s boring. It’s
real.
”

“Real as in you now have to deal with certain issues, whatever they may be?”

“See, that’s the thing. I don’t have all that ‘Daddy didn’t love me and Mommy was a hooker’ bullshit to sort out. I don’t have any deep, dark emotional issues that drove me to drink. I just liked it. I’m detoxed now, okay? I could walk out of here with you and be perfectly fine.”

“Bullshit, Oliver.”

“It’s true.”

“Look, I know this must be scary for you—”

“It’s not scary,” Oliver interrupted fiercely. “It’s a waste of time. You know how long the whole program is?” he asked, his voice going up an octave. “Eight weeks. Eight eight eight eight eight.”

“Well, if that’s what it takes,” said Sinead.

“That’s what they say it takes,” Oliver corrected. “They don’t take the individual into account. It’s a one-size-fits-all program. This individual does not need eight weeks of hearing other people’s sad loser stories and navel gazing.”

Sinead was getting exasperated. “Just do the program and shut up, okay?”

“So even you have turned against me.”

Sinead caught the impish look in his eye, and Oliver laughed.

“You’re so melodramatic.”

“Which is what makes me so riveting to watch in court. Speaking of which, how’s it going with the divorce case?”

Sinead shuddered. “God, those two deserve each other. Last week she claimed in the paper that he locked her up in a secret dungeon. I told her that she can’t just go saying these things, or he’ll sue for defamation of character on top of everything else. Oh, wait, he already is.” She kicked at a twig. “I think she liked working with you better.”

“Of course she did. I told her all the time how hot she was. I bet you don’t do that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“And the fraud case?”

“Status quo.”

“Sounds like you got a lot going on there, missy.”

“I do.” Mention of it made Sinead suddenly tired. It was Pavlovian: Oliver mentioned work, and she stifled a big yawn.

“You sure you can—”

“Don’t you dare.” Sinead pointed at him warningly. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Oliver raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Please don’t hurt me, pretty lady.”

Sinead linked her arm through his as they continued down a snaking gravel path toward a thicket of tall firs. God, she’d missed him. She wondered if his protestations weren’t all bluster. Much like Adam, Oliver wasn’t one for admitting weakness. There was no way he would ever admit there might be reasons behind his drinking, or that he was actually getting something out of therapy. Still, she could see how a calm, serene place like this would drive him nuts. Oliver lived life at warp speed, and Beechtree was very . . . still.
Adam would like it,
she thought.

“What’s the buzz with you and hockey boy?” Oliver asked.

“We went to the wedding of one of his teammates last night.”

“Whoa. Stop the presses.” Oliver looked surprised. “You went out in public together?”

“Not as a couple. More like a date between friends. As Adam pointed out, even if his teammates did figure out I’m his attorney, it’s not like they’d have the guts to ask him—or me—if there was anything else going on.”

“That’s not the point. That was a
très
risky move, little sister. What if word got back to the big three that you went to a wedding with your client?”

“How would word get back to them? One of the hockey players is gonna call up the firm and tell them?” As the words were leaving her mouth, Sinead felt a freeze come over her. Saari might. “Besides, you can socialize with a client without dating them.”

“I’m just shocked. I thought you guys were going totally cloak and dagger.”

“It was Adam’s idea, not mine.” Sinead sat down on a beautiful, carved wooden bench nearby, Oliver following suit.

Oliver frowned. “I hate nature.”

“Adam loves it,” Sinead replied, trying not to sound glum. “A lot.”

“Princess doesn’t sound happy.”

“I’m not unhappy. It’s just that when we went away for the weekend together, we somehow stumbled on to the topic of retirement, and he told me he wants to live in a place like Bearsville year round.”

Oliver nudged her in the ribs. “You guys are thinking long-term, huh?”

“Not overtly,” Sinead said carefully. “We’re just taking it as it comes.” She frowned. “I hate that expression. That and ‘Go with the flow.’ ”

“So if I’ve got this right, and I know I do because I know you, you’d rather run naked down Broadway than live in the country full-time.”

“Bingo.”

“Sinead, we’re talking thirty, forty years away.”

“I know. But it just disturbed me because it shows how different we are at heart, you know?”

Oliver snorted. “You differ on one thing. Big deal. You both love kids, right?”

Sinead softened. “Yes.”

“Well, if you ask me, that’s a more important issue to be simpatico on than where you’ll be cashing your Social Security checks.”

“But he thinks Bearsville would be a good place to raise kids! This is the type of stuff that could make or break a relationship. You have to be simpatico on
all
these big issues.”

Oliver looked reflective. “You know, when Jim Beam and I were dating, our discussions never went that deep.”

“I thought Johnny Walker was your guy.”

“Him, too. It was a three way.” Oliver tousled her hair. “Look, things have a way of working out the way they’re supposed to, all right? I really believe that. Even my being here in this godforsaken—”

“Multimillion-dollar facility—”

“Is probably the way things should be karmically.”

“Karmically?”

Oliver shook his head forlornly. “See, I should be drinking, right? I sound like an asshole when I’m sober. Total asshole.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Phew.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of his shirt. “You know what I mean, though, right?”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since I got here. Jesus, Sinead, I have to have some vice.”

“Could you maybe wait till I’ve left?”