Page 85 of After Everything
He was down the hall. Twenty feet away. Working on a motion that would keep Angela safe. Doing good work. Important work.
The kind of work that had nothing to do with the man who'd destroyed our marriage and everything to do with the person he'd become.
I tried to focus on charts. Failed. Opened my email. Closed it again. Checked my phone for messages that weren't there.
Fifteen minutes passed.
I stood up, walked to the break room, poured two cups of coffee from the pot I'd made earlier. Added cream and sugar to one, the way David used to take it. The way he probably still took it, judging by the coffee shop two weeks ago.
I stood there holding both cups, staring at them.
What was I doing?
Bringing him coffee was... what? A peace offering? A friendly gesture? An excuse to see him again?
I should put the second cup down. Go back to my office. Let him finish his work and leave.
Instead, I walked down the hall to the conference room.
The door was half-open. David sat at the long table, papers spread out in front of him, laptop open, completely absorbed in whatever he was writing. His jacket was off, draped over the back of the chair. His tiewas loosened. He'd rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.
I knocked lightly on the doorframe.
He looked up, and something in his expression softened when he saw me.
"I made coffee," I said, holding up the cups. "Thought you might need some."
"You remembered how I take it." He said it quietly, like he was surprised.
"Muscle memory." I set the cup down in front of him, careful not to get too close. "How's the motion coming?"
"Almost done. Your report is—" He gestured at the papers. "It's exactly what I needed. Clear, detailed, impossible to dispute. Angela's going to get that restraining order tomorrow because of you."
"Because she was brave enough to leave."
"Because you documented what he did to her." He picked up the coffee, took a sip. "Thank you. For this. For staying late. For…" He paused. "For everything."
I should have left then. Should have said "you're welcome" and walked back to my office.
But I didn't.
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
"How long have you been doing this?" I asked. "The DV cases."
He set down his coffee. "About a year. Maybe a little more."
"Why?"
He was quiet for a moment, considering the question. Or considering how much to tell me.
"Because I understand what it's like to hurt someone you're supposed to love," he said finally. "I understand what it's like to watch someone you destroyed pick up the pieces and rebuild without you. And I wanted to help women who were trying to escape men who'd hurt them. Maybe if I could help them get free, help them be safe..." He trailed off. "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't make up for anything. But it felt like something I could do."
My chest felt tight. "Angela told me what you said about me."
His eyes met mine. "It was the truth."
"She said you respect me."
