Page 31 of Overruled

I let out a heavy sigh, leaning my head back against the headboard as I look up at the ceiling. I wonder if it was always inevitable, us having a conversation like this. I wonder if it was ever possible that we could just get through this thing we’ve been doing scathe-free.

I focus my attention back on my laptop, resigning myself to a conversation I’ll probably regret.

“Fine,” I say tersely. “You objected to Request Number Four on the basis that it is vague, overly broad, and unduly burdensome , and that it seeks information that is proprietary and confidential . Surely you understand what material is sought by this request, otherwise, how could you determine that it seeks information that is proprietary and confidential?”

“Fair enough,” he assents. “I can omit that one.”

“For a price,” I mumble bitterly.

“I’m a lawyer, Dani,” he chuckles. “All I do is counter.”

“Fine. Ask your question.”

“What would you have done, really, if we’d woken up together this morning?”

I blanch. “I…how would I know? There’s no way for me to know since you—”

“Be honest, Dani. After everything that’s happened between us, how do you think you would have reacted?”

I go still, thinking. If I were being truly honest with myself, there’s no doubt in my mind I would have freaked out. Fucking each other is one thing, sleeping together is something completely different. I hate that he apparently knows me well enough to call me on this.

“I can…admit that I might have reacted poorly.”

“You would have flipped shit and kicked me out,” he snorts.

I will not smile at his teasing tone. I won’t.

“Guess we’ll never know for sure.”

“But you enjoyed last night, didn’t you?”

Uncomfortable awareness creeps up my spine. “That’s more than one question.”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Number Six.” I find the line on my screen. “You objected on the basis that it exceeds the scope of expert discovery under Rule 194.1 .”

“And?”

“Rule 194.1 governs the production of statements given by parties or witnesses— not the scope of expert discovery. Even if you meant to refer to Rule 192.4, which does address expert discovery, you are still wrong, because the law requires the production of any written report made by the expert concerning the expert’s findings and opinions. ”

“Someone’s getting technical,” he laughs softly.

“Someone has a lot at stake,” I counter. “We have named experts now. They have to answer.”

“Okay. You’re right. Omit it.”

“Fine. Ask me another question.”

“What do you mean you have a lot at stake?”

Fuck. I walked right into that one.

“I just meant that it’s an important case.”

“I don’t think that’s all you meant. We had a deal, Dani.”

I know giving him this information will probably come back to haunt me, and I can’t even say why I’m compelled to give it in the first place. All I know is that my mouth is opening before I can stop it.

“My boss has agreed to put me up for junior partner if I win.”

“Wow.”

“But that doesn’t mean I want you cutting corners or babying me,” I stress.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, a smile still in his voice. “That’s not who we are.”

“Right. So just forget I even said anything.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answers softly. “Do you have another?”

“I think your objection to Request Number Seven is plausible, so I’m not going to contest it, but you objected to Request Number Nine on the basis that the request potentially seeks attorney work product and attorney-client privileged information .

You then go on to state that no documents are being withheld pursuant to these privileges .

If there are no documents subject to these privileges, why are you objecting? ”

“Can’t argue with that,” he says. “Feel free to omit.”

“Good.”

“Why don’t you like me?”

I blink in surprise, taken completely off guard by the question. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I don’t think you actually dislike me, not anymore,” he says, setting off a flicker of annoyance in me before he goes on. “But the night we met, you decided I was some asshole within one conversation. Why?”

I can’t help but remember the night in question, thinking back to the moment I saw him laughing at the open bar of the party we were both attending—the memory of his smile fixing me in place still vivid after so many months.

I knew who he was; how could I not, with him and his stupid Heartbreak Prince nickname floated around by other lawyers, but being that he’d only just moved back to Austin after a stint in New York for the last few years, I hadn’t actually run into him before.

“You were talking to another woman,” I say, remembering. “Smiling and laughing while she ate it up.”

He makes an indignant sound. “Wait, so I’m being punished for talking to other women before I even met you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I huff. “It was just…clear how into you she was. She was hanging on your every word, Ezra.”

“I’m still not following.”

“You looked up and saw me, and you just…walked away from her. You barely even gave her an excuse. You just came over to me and started flirting with me. It was clear to me how little you appreciate a woman’s attention, even then, so why would I be excited about the fact that I can’t seem to stop being an idiot enough to stop giving you mine? ”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, so long that I almost feel like I’m the one who’s done something wrong.

“Well, say something,” I urge.

“I never thought about you seeing it that way,” he says, almost like he’s only just considering it for the first time.

“Of course you didn’t,” I scoff. “Because that’s all women are to you.”

“Is that what you think?”

“What the hell else was I supposed to think?”

“Dani,” he laughs, actually laughs . “I walked away from that woman whose face I can’t even remember because from the second I saw you, for every fucking moment since —there hasn’t been anyone in my head but you .” He laughs again. “You might as well live there now.”

I feel the air rush out of my lungs, anything I might have been about to say spilling out of my head to leave me with no thoughts. Of all the things I thought Ezra might say, they hadn’t even come close to that .

“Well,” I say finally, my voice thick. “That’s a good line, I’ll give you that.”

“No,” he sighs. “It’s just the truth. As exhausting as you are, I can’t seem to stop chasing you. Even if I wish you’d do a bit of the chasing every once in a while.”

I don’t know what to say to that, and like the coward I’m beginning to suspect that I am, I change the subject.

“It’s my turn,” I say shakily.

“Right,” he answers wearily. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“I just have one more,” I tell him. “Request Number Seventeen. You objected on the basis that it seeks information protected by attorney work product, attorney-client privilege, and/or materials prepared in anticipation of litigation . You need to give me a privilege log if you’re holding something back. ”

“Of course. I can do that.”

“Good. Well.”

I reach for my phone then, holding it close and feeling caught by the way I’m slowly becoming uncomfortable with the idea of this conversation ending like it’s so obviously about to, without any real answers and still a wide void between us.

One I’m not even sure I want anymore. Everything in my head is so messed up.

“Actually,” I say quietly, unable to help myself. “One more thing.”

Ezra sounds almost eager for it. “Yeah?”

“Has there been anyone else? Since we started doing this?”

I’ve never asked, and he’s never offered. I know it makes me sound weak and needy, just like I know how much I’ve wondered about it does the same thing. But I can’t help it. With everything he’s told me tonight…I have to know.

Ezra’s sigh is long and loud, and my fingers are shaking, holding the speaker close to my ear so I can’t possibly miss his answer. “I told you, Dani,” he says carefully. “I haven’t been able to see anyone else but you since the night I laid eyes on you.”

There’s fear bubbling in my chest at his words, at the implication of them, but there’s a giddiness there too. One that’s foreign. One I don’t know what to do with. “Yeah?”

“How could I?” His voice is lower now, and I close my eyes as it washes against my ear where I’m holding my phone close.

“Everything about you is a fucking dream. You’re so smart.

Even when you’re using that big brain to kick my ass, I’m in awe of you.

You’re so beautiful it damn near hurts to look at you.

All I think about is touching you, tasting you.

I can barely get anything done most days without thinking about it. ”

I swallow thickly, feeling a slow throb building between my legs despite everything. “What do you think about?”

“I think about the sounds you make when I’m inside you; they’re so soft, like you don’t want to let them go. It drives me crazy knowing you can’t help it. That I’m the one making you lose that carefully crafted control you cling to.”

I want to argue with him, it’s always my first instinct, but surprisingly, there is an even more overwhelming urge to hear more.

“What else?”

“Your mouth. Not even about how soft it is, how good it feels on mine—although I do think about that a lot too—but just…you’re so damned sharp, Dani.

I’ve never met anyone who could go toe-to-toe with me like you do.

I never know what to expect from you, and I fucking love it.

Even when you’re scowling at me, or cutting into me, all it makes me want to do is get closer to you.

Honestly, I feel like maybe I’m some sort of masochist at this point. ”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “Maybe you are.”

“I think it’s just you,” he utters, breathy and soft. “You’re in my head, and I don’t know how to get you out. I don’t even think I want to.”

I suck in a breath; that throbbing between my legs is an allover sensation now. Especially in my chest. I would be afraid of it if I could feel anything outside the steady thump thump of my heart.

Neither of us says anything for a long time, and I suspect it’s because neither of us knows what to say.

But it’s Ezra who finally breaks the silence. “I should let you go.”

“Oh.” Why do I feel disappointed? “Right.”

“I have an early morning,” he explains. “Unfortunately.”

Get a grip, Dani.

“Okay.”

“What are the chances I could see you tomorrow night?”

“Slim,” I tell him honestly. “I have dinner with my boss and the other partners.”

“Sounds like a fun time.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Another long beat of silence before, “I guess I’ll see you in court Friday?”

“I guess so.”

I can’t even tell if the long silences are awkward or not at this point.

“Okay,” Ezra says. “Well—”

“Ezra,” I blurt out, my voice tight.

His tone is expectant, eager again. “Yeah?”

“Me too,” I fumble before clearing my throat to try again. “You’re…in my head too.”

This time the pause is a pregnant one, and I hold my breath waiting for an answer.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice warm and light. “I won’t tell anyone.”

I smile in spite of myself. “You’d better not.”

“Good night, Dani.”

“Night, Ezra.”

I hang up first, before I say anything else that I might regret tomorrow.

I wait for the embarrassment of my admission to come, but strangely, even several minutes after hanging up, it never does.

Even stranger, the feeling that lingers long after I’ve tucked myself into bed, having replayed Ezra’s and my conversation over and over in my head before succumbing to exhaustion—is dangerously close to anticipation.

And I have no idea what to do with that.