Page 7 of Pride & Precedents

I sink down on the closed lid of the commode and scroll through the file, my jaw slack in disbelief.She fuckingmarriedTanner? That guy was the king of douchebags!Sure, he hit it big with some fitness craze (something to do with rowing), but based on his complete lack of character and history, I'd bet hestolethat idea. He was certainly a fan of stealing in grad school. If Naomi actuallymarriedTanner, I definitely dodged a bullet all those years ago. I clearly didn't know her at all.

I throw the phone through the bathroom door to land on my bed. I'll finish reading through the dossiers on the drive in; luckily I have my own background information on these clients. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth to quiet the rage itching under my skin. I stomp into my walk-in closet and pull out a suit, shirt, tie, cufflinks, and the most expensive shoes I own.I'm a professional. I can handle representing my sort-of ex in a divorce against my former teammate and mortal enemy.But I will look so fucking good it hurts when I do.Eat your heart out, Naomi.

On the ride in, I discover that Naomi and Tanner actually got married right after graduation. Apparently the announcement was within months of the couple announcing they were expecting.Can anyone say shotgun wedding?Together, they share a nine-year-old daughter who made the move to NYC with Naomi. It sucks that there's a kid involved; the kids almost always lose when it comes to divorce.

Mediations as part of a separation agreement broke down quickly; either Tanner was a no-show, claiming some conflict related to his IPO, or they devolved into screaming matches. Almost at the office, I scroll through the file again to see the details on Naomi's successful environmental law practice. Shelooked to be just months away from making partner. I can't believe she would walk away from all that. Looking at her case records, she's clearly fierce and formidable, but New York is cutthroat. She'll have her work cut out for her starting over at a new firm.

There's information about Tanner and Naomi's board seats, memberships, global real estate holdings, and even about their daughter's former private school. All that's missing is the financial information, which we won't be able to get until the retainer is signed. The dossiers are beyond comprehensive; Ms. Sanchez clearly deserves a bonus.

I exit the car in the underground garage and ride the elevator up in silence.Do I mention my connection with Naomi?Law school was ages ago, but Iwaspractically in love with her. But it was before I was even a lawyer, and we were never officiallytogether. I'd say this is ethically light gray at best. Bill likely assumed I'd be the best fit since we were at Yale at the same time. He's not wrong; I do bring another level of understanding for this client.Or maybe I don't.Naominowmight be nothing like Naomithen; I'm certainly not the same person I was back then.

It's settled. There is no reasonable conflict of interest.I will work with Naomi like any other client because I'm a goddamn professional.

Ding!

Too soon, the elevator doors open onto my floor and I make my way to my corner office, doing my best to avoid the trail of sweat making its way down my spine. Is the AC not working today?Get it together, Henry!

"Good morning, Mr. Park," Ms. Sanchez practically sings.At leastsomeone'sin a good mood today.

"Ms. Sanchez," I nod, before heading into my office and closing the door. Two minutes later she comes in, trusty legalpad in hand. She's looking at me too shrewdly, and I clear my throat.

"Thank you for the excellent work you did in putting together those client backgrounds, Ms. Sanchez. They were beyond thorough." She smiles and pink colors her cheeks.

"Thank you, Mr. Park. Ms. Watanabe is already seated in Conference Room A. Will you be meeting her directly or connecting with Mr. Bannister first?"

Greeting Nao—Ms. Watanabeon my own may give us the opportunity to diffuse any awkwardness, but it might also increase the impression of impropriety given our previous relationship. Better to walk in as a united front with Bill.

"I'll stop by Mr. Bannister's so we can meet Ms. Watanabe together."

"Very good." Ms. Sanchez is still looking at me too closely. She opens her mouth as if about to say something, but closes it just as quickly. With three quick taps of her pen on her legal pad, she exits my office, closing the door behind her.

Chapter six

Henry

December 15th, 2020

"So," Ms. Sanchez says, her hip propped against my desk as usual, clicking her ever present pen. "Are you and the family celebrating Christmas together this year, or are you going to play it safe?"

Governor Cuomo cleared law firms to resume in-person operations in June, and the entire office has been working in shifts for the last six months to avoid triggering a super spreader event. Everyone has to wear masks, there's a disinfecting station on every floor, and luckily, we've only had eight mild cases since coming back. Things have beendifferent, but at this point, they're manageable.

No one expected a Hallmark Christmas after a year of hell, but that all changed once the vaccine went public. Now, there's hope in the air, mixed with a fair amount of nerves. Some of the partners already managed to get the shot, but most people still have to rely on masks and rubbing alcohol.

"We're going to play it safe. Mom and Dad aren't on the priority list for the vaccine, and Damon's paranoid he won't be able to play ball if he gets sick."

Ms. Sanchez grins before bending down to retrieve something from behind the couch in my office. She's got on a knee-length wool skirt in dark gray, a plain white dress shirt, and a cardigan covered in reindeer and snowmen. The monstrosity was lit up with real Christmas lights when she first came in, but I had her turn them off so they wouldn't be a distraction.

Looking at her bent over, I'm distracted for an entirely different reason now. My eyes catch on the delicate line of her ankles, the smooth expanse of her calves, and up to her thick thighs before they disappear under the festive ensemble. Lately, I've been noticing Ms. Sanchez for reasons beyond the professional, and it's a problem. I clear my throat, along with the surprisingly lustful thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me.

Ms. Sanchez finally ends my torture, coming from behind the couch with a gift basket almost half her size. She laughs at my dumbfounded expression.

"Relax. It's not really for you. Most productions are still shut down, so Rory's been making care packages for anyone who can't celebrate together. I grabbed one for you just in case. You can drop it by your parents' or something." She lugs the basket to my desk and sets it down with a heavy thump.

"Wow," I say, because there are no words. Inside the package, there are two mugs full of instant hot cocoa and cider packets, candy canes in assorted colors, brightly wrapped chocolates in the shape of Christmas trees and wreaths, a small artificial poinsettia, a tube of ten ornaments, a string of jingle bells, and a headband with reindeer antlers. Everything sits on a bed of holly and ivy garland.

At my silence, Ms. Sanchez's smile wilts at the edges.

"I know she went a little overboard. My family goes all out for Christmas and she just thought, especially this year, people could use a little extra cheer. You don't have to—" I put my hand on hers, stopping her rambling. Her skin is warm and velvet soft.

---