Elizabeth exhaled slowly, the words forming carefully in her mind before she let them out. “If we were to do this,” she said, measuring each syllable like she was presenting terms to a jury, “it wouldn’t be some half-baked arrangement.” She couldn’t believe she was actually saying these words. “It would need to be structured. Documented.” She caught herself before saying ‘legally binding,’ though the thought lingered at the back of her tongue. “Professional.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her lips parting in what might have been surprise or amusement. Elizabeth couldn’t quite tell. “Professional?” The word curled at the edges with something warm and teasing, completely at odds with the sterile precision Elizabeth was trying to impose on the situation.
“Yes.” Elizabeth straightened in her chair, her shoulders squaring automatically as her mind raced ahead, already drafting clauses in her head. The lawyer in her took over, slotting this absurd scenario into familiar frameworks. “There would need to be clear rules. Defined expectations. A contract.” The word landed between them with finality.
Kelsey’s lips twitched, just slightly. “You want to write a contract for this?”
Elizabeth ignored the amusement in her voice. “I don’t do things without clear terms. If you’re serious, then we do this properly. Or not at all.”
Kelsey was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”
Elizabeth studied her face, looking for hesitation. There was none. Just… agreement.
She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt something else entirely, something sharp and unfamiliar, like the first prick of a needle.
She pushed the feeling aside.
Elizabeth took a sip of coffee. She should have been at the office by now, not sitting in a café making deals with a barista.
This was a terrible idea. A truly awful idea.
She looked at Kelsey. She was watching her with an expression that was equal parts hope and uncertainty. Her dark eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, as if she were waiting for Elizabeth to either laugh in her face or agree.
She looked young. Too young. The kind of young that made Elizabeth feel every one of her forty-eight years.
The question burned in her chest. Which was worse? Walking into Grace’s wedding alone, vulnerable under the weight of all those pitying glances? Or letting them whisper behind their champagne flutes about how she was having a mid-life crisis?
Neither option was good. But one, at least, let her keep her dignity intact.
She studied the woman who’d been making her coffee for months now. Why was she nervous? But there was something else there too—determination. Like she had already made up her mind and was just waiting for Elizabeth to catch up.
“Fine,” Elizabeth said, the word sharp. She reached into her bag, her movements precise, and pulled out a sleek blackbusiness card. She slid it across the table toward Kelsey. “Text me your number. I’ll send you the address of a wine bar near here.IfI’m still interested, I’ll draw up a contract and we can go over it.”
Kelsey’s eyes flicked down to the card, then back up to Elizabeth’s face. She hesitated, then reached for the card. “When?”
Elizabeth glanced at her watch, the movement automatic. “This evening. At seven. Are you free?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth stood, her chair scraping against the floor. She smoothed her blazer, the fabric crisp under her palms. She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt like she had just made a deal with the devil.
She gathered her things and turned to leave, then paused. “And Kelsey?”
Kelsey looked up at her, her dark eyes wide.
“This stays between us,” Elizabeth said, her voice low. “No one else can know. Not your friends, not your family. No one.”
Kelsey swallowed, then nodded. “I understand.”
Elizabeth studied her for a long moment, then turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor. She didn’t look back.
Outside, the city hummed around her, the sounds of traffic and conversation filling the air. Elizabeth pulled her phone from her bag, her fingers moving automatically as she pulled up her calendar. She had a meeting in twenty minutes. A deposition at eleven.
She should forget this whole ridiculous idea.
But her mind was already racing ahead, drafting the terms of the contract in her head. The fee. The expectations.
She was a lawyer. This was what she did.