Chapter Forty-Six: Lunch

Authors note: Been a while since I’ve added a chapter. I’ll confess I had a bit of writers block and needed a bit of a break. I hope everyone’s enjoying the pace of the story so far though.

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Marissa sat alone at the restaurant, one hand curled around her water glass, eyes scanning the door every few seconds despite herself.

It was a mid-level spot. Not a chain, she couldn’t stand those, with their carbon-copy menus and **** nostalgia décor, but not the kind of white-linen, hushed-voiced five-star Olivia had always pretended to hate. Olivia, who could rattle off a sommelier’s resume like she was ordering coffee. Olivia, who would declare those restaurants pretentious while ordering a dozen oysters and a glass of Chablis before the menus had even been passed out.

This was better. An old neighborhood staple, where the tables didn’t feel like they were auditioning for Instagram.

Lunch was safer, too. Lunch said this is neutral ground. Lunch said we’re two normal people having a normal conversation, not here’s a candlelit setup for questionable life choices.

She smoothed her dress, a light cotton floral sundress that breathed in the July heat. It was casual enough to say I didn’t overthink this, but nice enough to prove she had. Considering that the last time she’d seen Daniel she’d been naked, flushed, and tangled in his sheets, she figured a little performative distance wouldn’t kill her.

Her hair was pulled into a braided updo, makeup light but intentional. And yes, she’d worn better underwear this time, but mostly for her own sake.

Because no matter how much Leah insisted that she and Daniel had chemistry, she was sure that they didn’t. Not in that way at least.

She saw him come around the corner, being led by the hostess. He looked good, blue suit, brown tie, brown leather shoes. Cufflinks on his shirt—the expensive kind made of white gold and green malachite.

Though she noticed he was looking tired, eyes a little heavier, hair just a little more out of place than usual. Like he was spending a lot of late nights.

A flicker of concern passed through her mind, she wondered if he was taking care of himself.

A strange thought given that a month ago he was just the husband of her wife’s friend. Now he was something else.

He smiled when he saw her, she was surprised by how disarming that smile made her feel. “Hey,” he said, voice low, warm, but carrying the weight of those late nights.

“Hey,” she answered back gesturing to the chair in front of her.

He slid into the chair, settling in as he adjusted his tie. He wore a suit, looking a little weathered, as if he hadn’t properly ironed it. But somehow it was more real than before. “So …” he let that word drag out.

“Yeah, I know,” she said laughing. “Last time we saw each other …” she stopped speaking as the waitress came over, menus in hand.

They both murmured their thanks. Neither of them opened the menus right away.

“Do we talk about it?” He asked.

Marissa raised an eyebrow, and then laughed, “I was thinking that we start with small talk first. Then we can move on to the rest.”

He nodded and looked to her, “How’s work,” he asked the question as nonchalantly as he possibly could.

“I’m taking some time off,” she answered as she perused the menu. “With the divorce …” she murmured something to herself. “It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah I imagine. Human rights law that’s a whole different beast,” Daniel said.

She snorted softly. “Beast is one word for it. Paperwork graveyard is another.” Her thumb traced the edge of the laminated page, eyes down but mind elsewhere. “You spend years fighting for everyone else, and then when it’s your own life burning down…” She shook her head, forcing a smile. “Turns out I don’t make the best client.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You? I bet you’re a nightmare client.”

Her gaze flicked up, sharp but amused. “Careful. I still know how to bury someone in motions and discovery.”

“Noted,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. But then his tone softened. “Seriously though—you’re allowed to take a step back. No one’s built to fight all the time.”

“Says the corporate lawyer, is that what you guys tell yourself when you step back from real law?”

“Ouch,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll have you know I’m doing pro bono work now.”

She blinked at him, suddenly caught off guard by his sudden confession. “Really?” She asked. “What prompted that?”

The waitress reappeared before he could answer, pen tucked behind her ear, menus balanced on her arm. They each ordered soft drinks—safe, neutral. Neither of them was stupid enough to test their luck with **** after last time.

Only once the waitress was gone did Daniel lean forward, his expression shifting again. A little less polished, a little more raw.

“I had an interesting night with an old…” He hesitated, choosing his words. “Well, let’s call her a mentor. Someone who reminded me of who I used to be.”

Marissa tilted her head, curious. “And what was that?”

Daniel looked at her half a second, it wasn’t like he was particularly keen on telling people about his threesome night with Senator Vivian Stone and Judge Elena Vazquez. Yet in spite of the debauchery of the night, it had uncovered something deeper. That beneath all the cynicism and polished suits, there was still a man who remembered why he’d gone into law in the first place.

He had discovered what it was like to feel the desire to do something good in exchange for nothing.

He exhaled slowly, as if settling on a safer version of the truth. “I guess… she reminded me that once, a long time ago, I thought about more than just money. About actually doing something good without expecting anything in return.”

Marissa blinked, caught off guard by the softness of it. For a moment, she wondered what kind of night could peel back the layers of a man like Daniel so thoroughly. But she didn’t ask. Not yet.

Instead, she offered a small smile. “Sounds like a hell of a mentor.”

Daniel chuckled, low in his throat. “You have no idea.”

Marissa smiled, bit her lip, and leaned in. “So, what’s this pro bono work you’re doing now?”

She was curious, more curious than she expected. She realized she didn’t actually know much about Daniel’s history. He never talked about it, and neither Samantha or Olivia ever seemed to volunteer details either.

“Working on helping a church in East Harbor,” Daniel said, settling his elbows on the table. “City’s trying to take it away, but it would wreck the whole neighborhood if they did.”

Marissa tilted her head. “Eminent domain?”

He nodded. “That’s the polite way of saying it. They want the land for a commercial development. But that church’s been there for generations. It’s more than just a building. The reverend she’s got it set up as the heart of the community. It’s where people get food, shelter, childcare. You bulldoze that, you’re not just erasing a church, you’re ripping out the spine of a whole community.”

Marissa found herself watching him carefully. There was a conviction in his tone she hadn’t heard before, not when he joked, not when he deflected, and not even when they had stumbled into each other’s arms.

For the first time, she thought: maybe Leah was right. Maybe there was something more between them.