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“I think we did okay today,” Ezra muses. “You didn’t ogle me very often, so that’s something.”

“I neverogledyou.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

I purse my lips. “You’re imagining things.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Sour Patch.”

I can’t help the dry chuckle that escapes me, but when its echo fades, there is nothing left but that slow stroking of his thumb and our quiet breathing. It’s…almost comforting. It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to be close to anyone like this that I’d almost forgotten how good it can be. I’ve spent so many years post-Grant locking every vulnerable part of myself up tight, ensuring that no one could ever hurt me like that again, that I had truly come to believe that I was incapable of feeling this kind of easy comfort with another person.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Ezra says eventually, breaking the silence.

“I just…” I feel my cheeks heat, my voice lowering in embarrassment. “I can’t believe that I’m here withyou.”

Ezra barks out a laugh. “Wow, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. Can you honestly say that you ever saw this becoming anything more?”

Ezra thinks about it for a moment, and then: “No, I didn’t.” Ridiculously, that almost makes me deflate, but then he continues, “But I hoped.”

I turn my face up to look at him, finding he has already turned my way so that I can meet his eyes. “You did?”

“I just always assumed you were too good for me,” he admits.

I snort at that. “Hardly. I’m a mess and a half.”

“Then I’d say we’re perfect for each other, don’t you think?”

My teeth worry at my lower lip, sensations bubbling up inside me that make me want to squirm. I can’t bring myself to answer that, so I take the coward’s way out.

“So what did you want to be before you changed your degree to law?”

He looks surprised by the question, his mouth opening andclosing as if he’s never been asked it before, like he’s trying to remember the answer. “I’m not even sure I had a real plan,” he admits. “I was just happy to be out of Alexander’s house for the first time, if I’m being honest.”

“You never had a pipe dream as a kid?”

“Oh, I had plenty,” he laughs. “When I was eight I watchedPatch Adams. Went through a doctor phase for a while. My mom even got me this kit, and I was constantly making her let me listen to her heartbeat.”

“You know,” I chuckle. “I think you might have actually made a good doctor.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, you’re too fucking stubborn not to be.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” He nudges his shoulder against mine. “What about you? Did you always want to be a lawyer?”

“For as long as I can remember,” I tell him. “My mom used to say I would argue with a fence post.”

“NowthatI can see,” he chuffs.

I poke him in the side again. “It wasn’t until law school that I decided on divorce law though.”

“Because of your parents?”

I blow out a breath. “I mean, that’s the obvious answer. They had both gotten remarried at this point, and don’t get me wrong, I was happy that they were happy. I still am. But I just…” I look down at my lap, wringing my hands together. “I just never understood it, I guess. Even after coming to terms with everything, a part of me never understood how two people who worked so perfectly as a unit couldn’t love each other the way I thought they did.”

“And you thought going into divorce law would help you understand?”