Page 43 of Overruled

“Wow, your friends must really want the best for you then.”

I poke him in the side, and he chuckles as he squirms away. “Vera thinks it’s a bad idea, I can tell.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

I hesitate, thinking. His thumb pauses in its slow back-and-forth on my skin, only resuming its path when I speak again.

“I think that I should think it’s a bad idea,” I admit.

He releases a breath. “But you don’t?”

“No.” My brow furrows. “Or maybe I do, but I’m just too tired to keep pretending I don’t want it anyway.”

“?‘It’ being me, yeah?”

I can hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him. “I’m not feeding your ego. It’s already as huge as your cat.”

“Big as other things too,” he says slyly.

“That was awful,” I groan.

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

“I never ogled you.”

“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 with you .”

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 and closing 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 watched Patch 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.”

“Now that I 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?”

“I guess I thought if I experienced enough couples meeting the end of their marriage, that maybe I could finally make peace with why my parents had to.”

“And did you?”

“I…think so. I know it’s ridiculous to be so hung up over it after so long. Especially when they’re both so happy.”

“Your entire world got turned upside down,” he says soothingly. “It’s not unreasonable that it would affect you.”

“I haven’t talked to anyone about this,” I confess.

“Not since Grant. I think maybe…I think that’s why it fucked me up so badly when he left.

He knew everything . He knew all my hang-ups and all the secret parts of myself I tried to keep hidden, and when he left, it felt like maybe it was because I wasn’t enough.

Then I spent a long time wondering if I stole a part of his life too. ”

“Fuck that,” Ezra balks. “He was a prick who chose his job over you. He didn’t deserve you.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“ I do,” he stresses, his fingers pressing under my chin to force me to look at him.

“Look at me.” And I am looking at him, getting lost in his green eyes, just like I’ve always been afraid of doing.

“If he couldn’t stay for you, then he didn’t fucking deserve you.

Understand? Because you’re worth staying for, Dani. ”

There’s a lump in my throat that makes it hard to speak, so I just nod slowly, not even sure what I would say to that anyway.

He saves me from the need to when he leans in to cover my mouth with his in a gentle but firm kiss.

He takes his time with it, like he’s not in any hurry to make it become something more, and miraculously, I like this slow change of pace.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve liked everything about this evening that is so different from any other one we’ve shared.

“You want to watch a movie?” he murmurs when he pulls away.

I quirk a brow. “Really?”

“Why not? It’s called decompressing. I hear it’s a thing people do.”

“Oh, you mean bringing your work home and stressing about it until you pass out isn’t the normal way of things?”

“It’s an option, but there are always other avenues to explore.”

“Are you an expert on the subject?”

“No, but I’d like to be an expert on you, eventually.”

My lips part in shock, his casual line actually leaving me speechless for a breath until I collect myself. “You really think you’re smooth, don’t you.”

“Mm.” He drops another kiss to the tip of my nose. “I know I’m smooth, baby.”

He untangles himself to go after my remote, taking my wineglass from the coffee table and offering to refill it before he tells me to pick out a movie for his decompression session , as he is now referring to it.

Scrolling through titles, it hits me how domestic this all feels. Months ago, the thought of spending an evening like this with Ezra fucking Hart would have made me laugh. Now I’m afraid of how much I might begin to crave it, how simply I could slip into a familiarity of this easy time with him.

And that might be the most terrifying thing about any of this.