Page 38 of Dial L for Lawyer (Curves & Capital #2)

Caleb

" T his is not what I had in mind," Dominic says, staring at the chaos of the aquatic center with genuine horror. "When you said 'the pool,' I thought you meant that new rooftop bar in River North."

"Why would I go to a bar at nine in the morning?"

"Day drinking is a thing. Bottomless mimosas exist." He watches a pack of small children run past, shrieking. "This is a nightmare. Why are they all wet?"

"It's a swim meet," I say, scanning the pool deck for Michaela. "What did you think would happen when I said I was going to my niece's swim meet?"

"I thought it was code. Like when Bennett says he's 'working from home' but he's really just playing hooky with Layla."

"I don't use code," Bennett protests, appearing behind us with Logan in tow. "And I can't believe you dragged us here under false pretenses."

"I didn't drag anyone," I point out. "Dom's the one who sent the group text saying 'mandatory bro bonding at the pool.'"

Logan adjusts his noise-canceling headphones around his neck. "I brought sunscreen and a towel. I thought we'd be swimming."

"You brought sunscreen for an indoor pool?"

"I don't know how public pools work." He looks vaguely ill. "Do you know how much urine is probably in there?"

"Please stop talking," Dominic says. "I'm already traumatized."

"You could leave," I suggest.

"And admit defeat? Never." He crosses his arms. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you bro up at some point this weekend. I’ve been riding solo far too much lately, and I expect at least an hour or two of shit-talking and grunting this weekend.”

"Watch your language. Michaela's only seven?—"

"Seven and three-quarters!" a voice pipes up, and suddenly Michaela's attached to my leg like a barnacle in a purple swimsuit. "Uncle Caleb! You came!"

"Told you I would, monster." I try to ruffle her hair, but it's pulled into a tight swim cap, so I just pat it awkwardly. "You remember Logan from the office?"

Logan waves. "Hi, Michaela."

She studies him with that intense Kingsley stare. "You're the nerdy one, right?"

Logan blinks. "Statistically, yes."

She turns to Dominic and Bennett. "Are any of you married?"

"Fucking hell," Dominic mutters.

"Those are bad words," Michaela informs him. "You owe me a dollar for each one."

"I don't?—"

"Those are the rules. Dad says so."

Dominic looks at me for help. I shrug. "Rules are rules."

He pulls out his wallet, muttering about extortion, and hands her a five. "Do you have change?"

"No. But I'm sure you'll need the credit." She tucks it into her swim cap with satisfaction.

"For the record," Bennett says, "I'm taken."

"By who?" Michaela demands.

"Layla. She's?—"

"Is she pretty?"

"Very."

"Is she nice?"

"Most of the time."

"Does she want kids?"

"OK," I interrupt, "don't you have a race to get ready for?"

"The butterfly isn't for twenty minutes." She turns back to Bennett. "Well? Does she?"

Bennett looks mildly panicked. "We haven't discussed?—"

"You should. Communication is important. Otherwise people just leave and never tell you why." She pivots to Logan. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Logan turns red. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It's complicated."

"Adults always say that when they're being chickens." She looks at Dominic. "You?"

"I'm allergic to commitment."

"That's not a real allergy."

"How do you know?"

"My grandma's a doctor." She crosses her arms. "You just haven't met the right person yet."

"Or I've met too many right people."

She rolls her eyes—definitely learned that from me—then turns back to me. "Where's Serena?"

"With her friends."

"Why isn't she here?"

"She had plans."

"More important than me?"

"Different plans. Not more important."

Michaela considers this. "Did you decide if you're marrying her yet?"

"It hasn’t even been a full day since you asked, so I’m still thinking about it," I say. "But you'll be the first to know."

"I hope so." She fixes me with a look that could make grown men confess to crimes. "It takes time to find the perfect dress. And I need to write a speech."

"Of course." I glance at my friends, expecting mockery, but they're just grinning at Michaela's intensity.

"Good luck on your race, kid," I say. "We'll be in the stands, cheering so loud it’s embarrassing."

"You can't embarrass me," she says. "I'm immune." She waves and runs off, leaving damp footprints and the smell of chlorine.

Dominic immediately scoffs. “Oh, so she can be immune to embarrassment but I can’t be allergic to commitment. That kid has double standards.”

"You’re just pouting because you got destroyed by a seven-year-old," Bennett says.

"Seven and three-quarters," Logan corrects, and we all stare at him. "What? She was very specific."

We climb the bleachers to where David's set up camp with enough supplies for a weekend camping trip.

"Gentlemen," he greets us, clearly surprised. "Didn't expect the whole crew."

"Dom lied to us," Bennett says, settling onto the metal bench. "Said this was a bar."

David chuckles. "Well, there's a concession stand downstairs. They serve beer."

"Seriously?" Dominic grabs Logan's arm. "We're going."

I watch them rush off and settle beside David. "Thanks for saving seats."

"Michaela's got three races," he says. "She's nervous about the butterfly, so cheer extra loud."

"That’s the plan. She said she was immune to embarrassment."

David grins. "That's what she says, but her ears go bright red."

The pool air is thick with chlorine and humidity. Must be ninety degrees in here. The whole building echoes with kids' voices and the slap of feet on wet tile. Parents in the stands scroll phones and sip coffee, looking bored after watching the same races week after week.

I wonder if I'll ever be one of them—someone who gets used to this, who stops being amazed by every little victory. I can't see it. If Michaela's swimming, I'll be the uncle who cheers too loud every single time.

We watch as Michaela lines up for her heat, adjusting her cap. She glances up at us and raises an eyebrow like, 'You ready for this?' I pump my fist and she smirks, then starts windmilling her arms dramatically. She means business.

When the race starts, Michaela is third off the block—her form is part chaos, part genius, all elbows and determination, but she pulls ahead fast. I lose it and start yelling her name.

David joins in, then Bennett—who has the voice of a foghorn—and soon even Dominic and Logan are back with their beers, both howling like she's in the Olympics.

Halfway through, she's got half a body length on the next kid, teeth gritted with effort. She powers through the last ten meters on pure will, then slaps the wall so hard she bounces back. When she looks up, her face is red but beaming as she spots us.

“That was actually pretty good,” Dominic admits, grinning from ear to ear.

Michaela gets out of the pool makes a heart with her hands at us. David claims he's not crying, but he's blinking fast, and I might be a little misty too. Bennett's grinning openly for once.

"That was incredible," he says. "She's a beast."

"Runs in the family," I say, nudging him.

"She's going to run the world someday."

"Or at least the legal system," David adds. "She already has a five-year plan for after law school."

"She's seven!" Dominic protests.

"Seven and three-quarters," we all say together.

As we settle back for her next event, my phone buzzes.

Serena:

How's the swim meet?

Me:

Michaela just destroyed the competition. The other kids didn't stand a chance.

Serena:

Of course she did. Kingsley genes.

Me:

How's brunch?

Serena:

Layla's interrogating me about us. Audrey's taking notes. Literally. She has a notebook.

Me:

What are you telling them?

There's a pause.

Serena:

The truth. That you're probably moving too fast but I don't want you to stop.

I stare at the text, warmth spreading through my chest.

"Good news?" Bennett asks, noticing my expression.

"Serena."

"Let me guess," Dominic says, returning with another beer despite it being 9:45 AM. "She's professing her undying love via text?"

"She said I'm moving too fast."

"Smart woman," David mutters.

"But she doesn't want me to stop."

"Less smart," Dominic adds.

"What counts as moving too fast?" Logan asks, cleaning his foggy glasses.

"I asked her to move in with me."

"Already?" Dominic nearly chokes on his beer. "That's not fast, that's light speed."

"It feels right."

"I asked Layla to move in after barely a month," Bennett says carefully. "But be careful. Serena just went through hell. Her career exploded, she was publicly humiliated, and you swooped in as her savior."

"I didn't swoop."

"You dropped everything to work her case for free," Logan points out.

"She needed help."

"Not exactly free, though," Dominic says. "You made her date you."

"What?!" David's eyebrow shoots up. "You made her date you? Do the other partners know about this?"

"They do not."

"Pretty sure that's against ethics rules or something," Dominic states.

I give him a look that could freeze hell. "It wasn't blackmail. We were discussing payment options, and I said my preferred option was spending time with her. She could have said no. I would have helped for free."

"You damn well knew Serena’s pride would never allow that," Bennett says. "You set her up, Kingsley."

I shrug. "Maybe. But it worked."

Logan pushes his glasses up. "That's ethically questionable on multiple levels."

"Thank you, Logan," David says. "At least someone here has sense."

"I have sense," I protest. "I just don't always use it."

"Clearly." David runs a hand through his hair. "Please tell me you at least made it clear the legal help wasn't dependent on her continuing to date you."

"Of course I did. I'm not a complete asshole."

"Debatable," Dominic mutters.

“I don’t want to be the one to rain on your parade,” David says. “But what happens if the other partners find out about this? They’ll haul you in front of the ethics committee and your name on the wall won't mean shit."

"Who’s going to tell them? The only people who know about this are sitting right here."

"And Serena," Bennett adds, his voice dropping to that quiet, serious tone that always cuts through my bullshit. "She's also in the know. That means Layla knows, Audrey too."

“And none of them are going to report me. This is a non-issue. I’ve pushed a boundary at most.”

“It’s more than a boundary,” David says, his expression grim. “It’s a conflict of interest that could get you disbarred. You’re thinking with the wrong head.”

“My thinking is just fine,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “I did what I needed to do, and I don’t regret a single thing. If it turns out that decision fucks me in the ass professionally. Then so be it. I’d rather lose it all than go another day without her.”

A woman in a pink visor in the row below us turns around, her face a mask of pinched disapproval. "There are children here," she says, her voice loud enough to carry. "Would you mind not using that kind of language?"

A few other parents glance over, their expressions ranging from annoyed to scandalized.

"My apologies," I say, my voice tight.

"See?" David mutters, shaking his head. "Reckless."

Dominic just smirks into his beer. "Getting chewed out by the PTA. This is a new low for you, Kingsley."

I ignore them, my focus shifting to where Michaela appears at the railing, dripping and victorious.

"Did you see how I destroyed those kids?" she demands.

"Absolutely ruthless," I confirm.

"Like a Kingsley." She looks around at us. "Why do you all look serious? Are you talking about boring grown-up stuff?"

"Your uncle's questionable relationship choices," Dominic says.

She rolls her eyes. "You better not be saying mean things about Serena."

"We're not?—"

"Good. Because she's the best thing that ever happened to you and if you mess it up I'm never speaking to you again."

"That's a bit dramatic."

"I'm a kid. I'm allowed to be dramatic." She wrings out her hair, sending water everywhere. "Besides, she actually listened to my mock trial. Do you know how many grown-ups just pretend to listen?"

"Most of them?" Logan guesses.

"Exactly. But Serena paid attention. She even gave me ideas for my closing." Michaela fixes me with a pure Kingsley stare. "Don't mess this up, Uncle Caleb. We need more girls in this family."

"Yeah, kid," Dominic says, "it's a real sausage fest up here."

"Can you not say 'sausage fest' in front of my daughter?" David winces.

"Sorry."

"You're not sorry."

"Hardly ever."

Michaela grins at me. "Tell Serena I won my butterfly! And that she has to come to my next meet!"

She runs off, leaving us in silence.

"So, where is Serena, anyway?" Dominic asks. “I thought you were keeping her locked down until the smoke clears.”

“I’m not her jailer. She’s just avoiding her apartment because of the press.”

“So you have her tied up at yours?”

“No. She’s having brunch with Audrey and Layla.”

"Oh. She's getting debriefed by the enemy," Dominic says, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Layla and Audrey are not the enemy."

"They're her best friends," he clarifies. "Which means they're currently conducting a deep-dive analysis of your every move, character flaw, and long-term viability. They'll advise her accordingly."

"I'm not worried." I glare at Dominic and he holds up his hands before pretending to zip his lips.

The truth is, a small part of me is worried. I know how protective Serena's friends are, and I know my methods have been… aggressive. But I also know what I feel, and I trust that Serena feels it too.

Down on the pool deck, the whistle blows for the next heat.

Michaela bounces on her toes, a tiny warrior ready for battle.

My friends fall silent, their attention shifting to the pool.

I know what they’re doing, and I appreciate that they care enough to call me on my shit.

But where they see risk, I see reward. And from where I’m sitting, Serena’s worth every goddamn bit of it.