Page 72 of Flirting with Forever

John’s eyebrows rose. “That’s...generous of you.”

Crash’s eyes flickered over to Richie’s desk. He took a deep breath and gave a shrug. “I think we got off on the wrong foot all those years ago. I’m not a bad guy. And for the record, I didn’t mean to crash your breakfast with your father the other day. He’s kind of a personal hero of mine, and I just...couldn’t help myself.”

“My father is a personal hero of yours.”

“He’s an exceptional lawyer.”

Well, he figured that Crash’s apparent idolization of a man with an uncompromising hardline on crime was Richie’s problem. All John had to do was play nice. He surveyed Crash’s face, which looked like he was smelling something bad and pretending he wasn’t. John internally sighed.

“I take it you’re here, in my office, attempting to make amends, because you have a crush on my best friend.”

Crash’s cheeks went electric pink, but he didn’t drop eye contact. “I think my odds with Richie are gonna be drastically improved if you and I aren’t enemies.”

John could respect that logic. Especially as his mind flicked momentarily over to Tyler. He actually might have to follow Crash’s logic himself pretty soon. “We’re not enemies. And as long as you treat Richie well, then we’re not going to have any kind of problem.”

Crash wilted a little bit, but it seemed to be with relief. “You’re not going to whisper in his ear about what a snake I am?”

“Richie’s a smart person. If he wants to date an ADA, that’s his business.”

“You say ADA like your father isn’t the most famous district attorney in the United States.”

John shrugged. “Justice is supposed to be blind. I try not to inflate my father’s ego too much.”

“Fair enough,” Crash said after a moment, as if what John said actually made sense to him. “Congrats, though, on your win today. I mean that. There are too few days when I feel the way you looked when I walked in here.”

John stood, draped his messenger bag over his body and held out a hand to Crash. “True.”

The men shook hands and parted ways in the hallway.

The adrenaline from the win still buzzed in John’s veins and even the interaction with Crash was buoying him. He was happy for Richie, to have found someone who liked him enough to make amends with an enemy on his behalf. He was blindingly happy for Hang and her mother, who he hoped were going to celebrate tonight.

There was sparkling water in his blood, and suddenly, John wanted to celebrate tonight. He wanted a freezing-cold drink. Or two. Or three. He wanted to share this bubbling, blazing feeling with the world. He didn’t want Ruth to be the only being who knew just how freaking happy this made him.

He pulled out his phone. Without too much thought, he called Mary.

“Hi!” she answered, this greeting sounding significantly sunnier than her last one had.

“I know we don’t have plans until tomorrow, but I had some good news, and I’m over the moon.”And I just wanted to hear your voice.He could hear those words in his head as clearly as if he’d said them out loud. He wondered if Mary could as well.

“Oh,” she said softly, and he could sense the pleasure there. There were people talking in the background, and he guessed that she was at a bar or restaurant. “Wanna come tell me the good news in person? I’m out with Beth Herari. Richie’s here too, actually. That wasn’t planned, though.”

“At Fellow’s?”

“Yup.”

Of course Mary would be at John’s regular watering hole, rubbing elbows with John’s world. Of course, after half a season of being intertwined in his life, she was threaded through almost every single aspect of it.

He laughed. “I’ll be there in five.”

John’s spirit was on roller skates as he strode down the long city blocks that divided Brooklyn Heights from Fort Greene, deftly sidestepping shoppers who were cruising the Fulton Mall, mostly, he figured, for the free air-conditioning. It was August and the city was doing that charming thing it did midsummer, where it became the mouth of hell, each building absorbing the heat of the sun and spitting it back onto the population for hours after sunset.

But John didn’t care. He was buoyant. He was a human glass of champagne. He was a fresh start and a fresh breeze, and he was on his way to meet Mary Trace in a bar.

“Hey, John!” someone called to him when he stepped through the door at Fellow’s. He waved but didn’t stop, scanning the area for a bright, sunny head of hair. He spotted Richie, leaning too far over the bar to hear something Marissa was saying, and then there was Mary. Laughing hard at a story Beth was telling, her hair lit up like a beacon and her dress falling off one shoulder.

The bar was crowded for a Wednesday. He shouldered his way through his colleagues, his eyes on Mary.

She looked up, as if his gaze had called to her, and her smile fell away. She looked elated to see him, but there was more to this expression. She looked as charged as he felt. As if seeing him cross a bar on a single-minded mission wasreallydoing it for her. John would have done this same strutting, striding walk for hours if it really was all it took to put that look on her face. Her hair fell over one eye; her teeth caught at her bottom lip.

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