Page 41 of Overruled
“I would expect nothing less, Dani.” He takes a sip from his glass of juice, shrugging. “It’s just a job. It doesn’t have to have any bearing on what we do outside of the courtroom.”
“And your fa—” I frown, correcting myself. “What about Alexander?”
Ezra’s jaw tenses. “Probably best to keep it from him. At least for now.”
There’s a crackle of tension as we’re both most likely remembering what he told me last night, and the instinct to soothe him is powerful. I give in to it, sliding my hand over his knee. “I’m…sorry, Ezra. About your mother. About all of it.”
“It’s just…how things are,” he says with a sigh.
“My mother has to want to leave him for there to be any real change. Half the time, she’s still convinced that she deserves this.
Not to mention that she’s still clinging to the way things used to be.
He practically has her constantly begging for scraps of his affection. ”
“That’s…tough.”
“Right,” he huffs. “Be grateful your parents are so well adjusted postdivorce. I’m jealous of how well they get along.”
I bristle, feeling irritated by his casual assessment but then guilty for even feeling that way. Sure, I have hang-ups about my parents, but my experience is nothing compared to Ezra’s. Honestly, the entire thing with his mother is casting a new perspective on my situation.
“You know,” I tell him, wanting to give him something after everything he’s shared with me. “I was so mad at them for so long.”
“Because of the divorce?”
I shake my head. “No, I…” I breathe out a sigh. “They lied to me. For years , they let me believe they were the happiest couple that ever existed. It was all a fucking lie.”
“People fall out of love all the time. It’s not uncommon for couples to try to make it work for the child.”
I laugh derisively. “There was no ‘falling out of love,’?” I tell him.
“My parents were best friends growing up. Both of their dads were alcoholics, and they lived near each other. They spent most of their lives taking care of each other. Then in college…” I feel his hand cover mine where it’s still resting on his knee, squeezing gently.
It makes it easier to keep talking. “They thought maybe they were supposed to be more. They realized after one night that the love they had for each other was nothing more than friendship, that it never would be, and that should have been that, but…”
“They had you,” he offers gently.
I nod. “They thought it would be easy to raise me together. Neither of them had ever dated seriously, so to them, marrying their best friend and giving their child a two-parent household—something neither of them ever had—seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“When did you find out?”
“I found the divorce paperwork the day of my high school graduation. They didn’t mean for me to find out that way, but after…
they sat me down and basically told me that my entire life was a lie.
That they’d spent all those years together because of me .
” I cast him a forlorn glance. “I stole half their life from them.”
“Hey.” His fingers tighten around my hand, and he leans in closer. “No, you didn’t. They’re adults, and they made a choice because they loved you. None of that falls on you.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ve just…I’ve been so angry for so long.”
“Well…I can promise you this, Dani,” he says gently. “There are worse things than having parents who love you too much.”
I wince. “God, I’m sorry. I’m babbling about this stupid shit when you’re—”
“No. None of that. My experience doesn’t trump yours. Everyone’s allowed to process their pain. Understand?”
I let out a watery laugh, reaching to wipe my eye. “You are sounding dangerously wise.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll go back to being an intolerable asshole by tomorrow, I’m sure.”
“Unfortunately, you keep getting more tolerable by the minute.”
“Wow.” He barks out a laugh. “Did you read that off of a Hallmark card?”
“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one well versed in being an intolerable asshole, I guess.”
“But I like you prickly, Sour Patch,” he says with a kiss on my cheek.
I shrug him off. “I don’t like that the nickname is becoming a thing.”
“Well, obviously I will take your request into consideration.”
“I’m sure you will,” I deadpan.
“Enough trauma bonding,” he tells me pointedly, gesturing at my plate. “Finish your food before it gets cold.”
“Yes, sir,” I huff.
He winks at me. “I could get used to that.”
I shake my head, stabbing my fork into my pancake and biting back the urge to laugh.
“I wouldn’t.”
There is another stretch of comfortable silence between us, and it isn’t until I hear the clatter of Ezra’s fork against his plate that he speaks again.
“But we’re…” His brow furrows, his teeth worrying at his lip as if he’s truly bothered by whatever he’s thinking.
“I’m not crazy, right? There is something here. Between you and me.”
I regard him carefully, quickly passing over his emerald eyes, which are all too easy to get lost in, and his full mouth, which I never really stop thinking about, and all the wild things that come out of it that never fail to make me fume or flush, and—
“No,” I answer honestly. “You’re not crazy.”
He beams. “Practically a marriage proposal, coming from you.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Oh, I’m already picking out china patterns.”
“Of course you are.”
“Mm. I’m thinking a June wedding. It’ll be a lavish affair.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Yuck. All those people? No thank you.”
“Not a fan of big weddings?”
“Absolutely not,” I scoff. “I’d rather get married at the courthouse on a random Tuesday.”
“How romantic.”
“That is what they say about me.”
“Mm. You’re as romantic as they come, baby.”
“Is that another endearment we are set on?”
He gives me a mock pout. “You don’t want to be my baby?”
“You’re being purposefully infuriating.”
“There’s no one I want to purposefully infuriate more than you, Dani.”
It’s a ridiculous statement, but I feel my cheeks heat all the same. I shove another forkful of eggs into my mouth to save me from answering, pointedly looking away from him.
“Do you have to go in today?”
I shake my head. “No. Although I’m sure Nate and Vera will be tracking me down at some point.”
“Sounds like we have plenty of time to shower then.”
“We?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s another tick off my top-ten list.” He gestures to my plate. “If you hurry, I’ll let you wash my back.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I am not washing your back.”
He grabs his plate from the counter, slipping from his seat and moving around me as if to take it to the sink. He pauses on the other side of me, leaning in close to let his lips hover against my jaw.
“Mm, but I’d be happy to wash yours,” he murmurs. His mouth presses a chaste kiss to my skin. “And something tells me it won’t take much convincing for you to return the favor.”
I say nothing as he saunters off with his plate, not trusting myself to answer.
Especially since he’s probably right.