I stand abruptly, pacing to the window. The late afternoon sun filters through the blinds, painting stripes across the carpet. "Let's pick this up tomorrow, Kaley. I need to clear my head."
"Of course." She watches me for a moment. "You've been going since six this morning. Maybe call it a day?"
"I've got the Jenkins hearing prep."
"Which isn't until Thursday."
I don't answer. She knows me too well, knows I'm driving myself into the ground to avoid something.
One night. One mistake.
My phone vibrates on the desk. Blake's name flashes on the screen. My stomach drops like I've been caught red-handed.
He needs to go to voicemail. I can't talk to him rightnow, when I can't even keep my brain off of his sister while trying to focus on work.
I move my thumb to the red circle to send him to voicemail and accidentally answer the damn thing.
Shit.
"Warren? You there?" Blake's voice booms through the phone.
"Yeah, sorry." I rub my temples, willing away the headache that's been building all day, trying to pull it together. "Just finishing up some work. How's it going, man?"
"When are you not working?" A familiar laugh comes through the line. "Listen, dinner tomorrow night at my parents'. Mom's making that mac and cheese you pretend not to love, and Cile's doing her brisket."
My throat tightens. "I've got a lot of cases right now, Blake?—"
"Bullshit." His tone remains light, but there's an edge beneath it. "Tyler and Emma have been asking about Uncle Warren for weeks. You know Emma drew you in her 'Important People' project for school? And you weren't even there to see it."
The guilt twists deeper. I press my forehead against my hand, my thumb and middle finger massaging my temples.
"It's been almost two years since you've been over for dinner, which is awful, considering you live ten minutes away."
Has it really been that long? I count back in my head. Christ, he's right.
"The kids miss you," Blake continues. "We all do."
I close my eyes. I don't deserve their loyalty after what I've done. What they don't know I've done.
"Also, not sure if you heard, but Janie's back in town," Blake adds casually, as if tossing in anafterthought. "She'll be there, and I know she'd be thrilled to see you."
My fingers tighten around the phone. As if I didn't already know. As if I hadn't seen her just yesterday, standing in that conference room like she'd stepped out of my most persistent dream.
"You still there?" Blake asks after my silence stretches too long.
"Yeah, just..." My mind races through the excuses I've perfected over the years. Client emergencies. Depositions. Mediations that run late. They're all insignificant now, transparent even to my own ears.
I press my thumb against the side of the phone, trying to channel my unease, feeling the weight of five years of avoidance.
"Of course I'll be there," I finally say.
"Hot damn." Blake sounds genuinely surprised. "Well, shit, man. That's great. Mom said to be there at six o'clock. Will that work for you?"
"Sure, yeah. That works."
"And bring that wine Mom likes, the one with the tree on it."
"Will do."