Page 98 of Into These Eyes
He shakes his head. “Then I’m not interested in part two.”
Stupid, pig-headed man. Well, we’ll see about that.“I want you to accompany me to the Christmas dinner for work.”
“Not inter—” His eyes flash with realisation, then soften. “Sorry … what was that?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself grinning. I’ve got him. “The firm puts on a lavish dinner for employees and their partners for Christmas. I’ve always gone alone. I’d very much like tonotgo by myself this year.”
His searching eyes gaze into mine as he shuffles on his feet and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, ah … I’d love that.”
This time, I don’t hide my smile. “And you have a suit to wear?”
He lets out a huff, the quirk of his lips telling me he knows he’s fallen into my trap. “No.”
“So, it’s agreed. We’re going shopping on the weekend.”
The following week, as we finish dinner, Gavin swivels away from the breakfast bar and faces the bare dining table. “Not doing any work tonight?”
“It’s the first day in court tomorrow. Big case. I’ve prepped all I can, so I’m taking the night off.”
Rising, I take our empty plates into the kitchen. Gavin follows, opening the dishwasher, waiting for me to hand him the dishes after I rinse them at the sink. A little routine that’s developed over the last week. At first, he wouldn’t let me help, but he’s relented. Possibly because of the deep conversations we get into while we clean up.
If I happen to get home early enough to catch Benny still here on the days he helps Gavin, we convince him to stay for dinner. Already I’ve grown so fond of him, it’s hard to believe he was in prison for so long. I just hate watching him leave. It’s okay for us, we’ve got each other, but Benny has to go home alone to that same sad situation Gavin came from.
“You don’t mind working such long hours?” Gavin asks.
Handing him the last of the dishes, I shrug. “I’ve been doing it so long, I guess I’m used to it.”
“And what’s your end goal? To make partner?”
As he wanders over to the breakfast bar with a damp cloth, I shake my head. “That’s not likely to happen in such a big firm. But I have been considering what I want lately. And I don’t think it’s being constantly exposed to so much evil in the world.”
He stops wiping down the counter, his full attention on me. “Then don’t.”
If only it were that simple. “I just feel that … if I quit, I’ll be abandoning the people who need help.”
“You deserve to be happy, Jamie.” He walks back to me at the sink and rinses the cloth. “You’ve put in a lot of years helping others. Maybe it’s time to help yourself, to do what you want. Have you imagined what that might look like?”
It’s the strangest thing, having someone ask what I want for myself. I don’t think anyone’s bothered before. So, for the first time, I put what I want into words.
“What I want is my own practice. Not criminal law. Something people need that doesn’t involve dealing with the ugly side of human nature. I’m not sure what yet, but to be my own boss, to be in control of how much work I take on and what that work is … that’s the end goal.”
His eyes hold mine and I know he’s thinking about what I’ve said. Helistens.
“I can see that. You like being in control.”
I nod. “I’ve had enough chaos in my personal life. Control at work keeps me … grounded.”
“I get it. I’ve barely had any control over my life. Even when I was getting my degree, I knew it was pointless. I should’ve concentrated on a trade instead.”
I move a little closer and gently rest my hand on his forearm.
Stop touching him.
I don’t.
“No. You’re too smart, too intelligent in here,” I place my palm in the centre of his chest. “You didn’t make the wrong decision. You’ll be using that degree before you know it. And you do have control. You’re here instead of that caravan. You controlled that.”
He glances at my hand resting on his chest, then into my eyes. “That decision could only be made because of you. For me, being in control means making my own way, a career, a car, a place of my own.”
