“Rough day?”
“Long,” Sabine nodded, eyes trailing the skyline. “Emotionally long. You ever have one of those days where your heart and your head just…don’t match?”
“Too often,” he said, clinking his glass to hers. They drank to that, letting the moment settle.
Sabine sipped slowly, the salt from the rim catching on her lip. She smiled faintly as Harlan leaned back, stretching his arm along the rail. There was an ease between them now—unforced. She wasn’t performing, wasn’t holding her breath. Just naturally present and that, in itself, felt like a kind of luxury.
They made small talk for a few minutes, chatting about the music, a couple who’d been loudly flirting across the bar, and Harlan’s mild obsession with good tequila. Eventually, the conversation circled back—inevitably—to work.
“I hope it won’t be weird with my ex-husband overseeing the contracts…” Sabine blurted, almost surprising herself. The mezcal had loosened her tongue or maybe it was just the way Harlan’s presence made her feel safe enough to be honest.
Harlan raised an eyebrow. “Adair Dayne.”
“Yes. My ex-husband, I’m sure you know.”
“I do…should it be…” he tilted his head. “Weird?”
She laughed, short and unexpectedly. “Probably.”
“Because of the ‘ex-husband’ part or the ‘overseeing the contracts’ part?”
Sabine hesitated, then gave a little shrug. “Both, I guess. It’s…complicated.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who avoids complicated.”
“I don’t. I just don’t invite it anymore.”
Harlan nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”
Sabine’s thumb traced the condensation on her glass. She didn’t look at Harlan when she asked, “Do you know the co-counsel on Aderra?”
“Not directly.”
“You’ve heard of…Corrine Thatch, though?” Sabine finally let their eyes meet.
“Yeah,” he took a sip of his drink with a nod. “She’s pretty sharp. Why?”
Sabine let out a soft breath through her nose, eyes back on the skyline. “She’s the woman my ex…ummm…”
Harlan didn’t need her to finish, even if she had tried to. He caught the shift in her voice, the subtle waver of it, how her exhale barely made it out evenly. He’d been around grief before. He knew the sound of a wound trying not to reopen.
“She’s the one,” he said quietly.
Sabine nodded once, barely. Her voice was low, like she was speaking just for herself. “It wasn’t even the affair. It was…everything surrounding it. The way I went hiding, and he didn’t come seeking. The way I gave birth alone and he didn’t answer. The fact that she was with him while I was…” She trailed off, blinking hard. “While I was losing everything.”
Harlan’s jaw tensed, but his eyes stayed soft. He didn’t jump in with sympathy. He didn’t offer any fixes. He just let her speak.
“It was when I was at my lowest. That’s what I can’t forget.”
“And that,” Harlan said, leaning forward slightly, “is fair. That’s not bitterness, Sabine. That’s memory. Something unforgettable and we all carry shit like that.”
“You’re a lot more emotionally intelligent than most men I meet.”
“That’s because I ruined the love of my life,” Harlan said without blinking. She blinked several times, surprised by his candor. “I havelearned…” he paused. “Want to know why I’ve been married three times?” he asked, voice calm. “Because I didn’t fight hard enough for the one woman who made everything make sense. And when I lost her, I started collecting versions of her in people who couldn’t hold a candle. Women I didn’t love fully. Women I tried to love halfway. Women who didn’t even ask for that much, and I still gave them less…she was everything. Kind. Brilliant. Challenging in the best way but I let her wait too long. Kept putting ambition before commitment. Told myself it’d all come together one day, and by the time Irealized she was the one thing I never wanted to lose, she was already walking away.”
“Did you try to stop her?” Sabine asked softly.
“I did,” he admitted. “But not loud enough. Not clear enough. I thought showing up late was better than not showing up at all. She disagreed and she was right.”