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“The hard part is over,” I assure her, people filing out of the courtroom around us. “We’ll talk next week and get everything finalized, okay? Go celebrate tonight with your daughters.”

“I will,” she says happily. “We’ll talk soon.”

I pat her shoulder, letting her go find her daughters in the crowd. Mrs. Lyndon’s husband is an abusive piece of shit, and seeing him ordered to pay out a healthy alimony and child support while losing any rights to custody is a sweet victory thatI’lldefinitely be celebrating. I make sure to give him a smug smile when I pass his still-fuming form spitting venom at his lawyer. Almost feel sorry for the guy.

The lawyer, not Mr. Lyndon, mind you.

I blow out a breath when I step out of the courtroom doors, happy to put this day behind me and go home to hopefully a verylarge glass of wine and Ezra’s cooking. Six months after moving in, and I still rarely cook. Ezra jokes that it’s my own personal stance against the patriarchy. I let Ezra joke about whatever the hell he wants as long as he keeps cooking.

Speaking of.

“Hey there, boss,” a familiar voice calls.

He’s still just as smug looking as the first day I met him—that stupid face and body are still lethal distractions, just welcome ones now. He ismyidiot, after all.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in court right now?”

He holds out his hand, tugging me into his side when I take it. “They asked for a continuance.” He kisses my cheek. “So we got out early.”

“And you just couldn’t wait another second to see me, huh?”

“You know I’m greedy for you, Sour Patch,” he chuckles.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. You can drive me home. I need a bath and a glass of wine.”

“Long day?”

“It’s definitely been a Monday.”

He tucks a stray piece of hair that’s escaped my ponytail behind my ear. “June is supposed to be the season of weddings, not divorces.”

“You’d think,” I huff. “Are you ready to go?”

“Do you mind if I drop off these documents on the fifth floor first?”

I notice the manila envelope in his hand. “Sure, that’s fine. Is that for the Franklin case?”

“No, this is something new that came in.”

He winds his fingers through mine as he leads me to the elevators, and I lean into him when we settle against the back wall.It’s almost funny, the drastic difference between this moment and my first memories of sharing elevators with Ezra, and I smile at the thought.

Ezra notices. “What?”

“I used to hate how pretty you were,” I muse.

“Were? You don’t think I’m still pretty?”

I roll my eyes. “I think you know you are.”

“Don’t scare me like that,” he mock scoffs. “You know how fragile my ego is.”

“About as fragile as it is small,” I snort.

He laughs, turning to kiss my temple.

“Is your mom coming over this weekend?”

“Mm-hmm. I invited your parental unit too.”