Page 7 of Overruled

Four

Dani

“Bill isn’t coming?”

My mother makes a disgruntled sound, rolling her eyes in my father’s direction. Her black hair, which looks so much like mine save for the slight streaks of gray, is pulled into a high ponytail, her perfectly tailored brow tilted high. “He’s playing golf with a client.”

“Oh?” Dad gives her a look over the brunch menu. “Did he ever snag the Feinstein account?”

“He’s still ‘reeling that one in,’ he says,” Mom laughs. “Patty have a class today?”

“Pottery,” Dad tells her. “She started up a daddy and daughter art hour or something.”

Mom practically coos, “Oh, that’s lovely.”

I watch all of this unfold with the morbid fascination one might reserve for two different species interacting with each other in the wild.

In my professional experience, separated couples usually tend to, well, stay separated when they divorce.

It’s the natural order of things. They aren’t supposed to remain best friends .

They aren’t supposed to meld into this weird foursome of solidarity with themselves and their new spouses.

But that’s exactly what my parents did.

Until I was seventeen, I thought that Perry and Katherine Pierce had the perfect marriage.

They did everything together; we were a unit.

I thought the sun rose and set on their love for each other.

That is…until they sat me down and told me they were getting a divorce.

That they would still be friends —but they just weren’t in love.

Just like that. Like they were telling me what we were going to have for dinner that night.

One minute they’re the perfect couple, and the next, they’re telling me they never actually loved each other at all.

At least, not like I thought they did. Regardless, I learned a long time ago that good marriages don’t really exist. They’re all destined to end.

I take a sip of my water, listening to my mom and dad continue to chat about varying news regarding their respective spouses. Don’t get me wrong, my stepparents are great, but it’s still weird that we all spend every holiday together like some warped version of The Brady Bunch .

“So have you met your client yet?”

I blink, realizing my dad is talking to me now. “Oh, have you remembered I’m here? I wouldn’t want to interrupt family time.”

“Oh, stop your pouting, Danica,” Mom tuts. “We were just catching up.”

“You talk on the phone almost every day,” I grumble.

Dad laughs. “You don’t talk to your best friends on the phone every day?”

I don’t even want to begin to try to get into the weirdness of my mother being my father’s best friend while they’re both married to someone else.

“Yes, I’ve met the client,” I say instead, changing the subject. “She’s…a character.”

“That’s what Manuel said too,” Dad says. “?‘A real ice queen’ were the words he used, I believe.”

I frown, not liking that assessment of Bianca. It doesn’t feel right.

“I would say she’s more of a…powerful woman,” I tell him, a slight smile on my lips. “I like her.”

“Well, you’d better,” Dad snorts. “If you can’t prove her husband was a cheating son of a bitch, she’ll be out millions.”

“I heard she doesn’t even need the money,” Mom points out. “Why is she fighting the prenup so hard?”

It’s a question I’ve heard numerous times since Bianca signed on with us. It’s even one I’ve wondered about myself—despite having talked to the woman in question. But it’s also one I’m still not sure I have the full answer to, so I just shrug.

“Who cares? If he cheated, he deserves to be hung out to dry.”

“Hear, hear,” Dad says, raising his mimosa.

I cock an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should make that your last one.”

“Oh, don’t be a square, Danibaby,” he chides. “We’re celebrating, remember?”

I snort into my water glass. “Seems you two are celebrating a lot more than I am.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Mom says with a snap of her fingers. “Let’s get something covered in syrup and more mimosas!”

“We really don’t need any more—”

My lips press closed as I realize everything I’m saying is going in one ear and out the other, since Mom is already waving down a waitress and Dad is tipping back his glass to finish off the rest of his second drink.

I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m the parent in this group and Mom and Dad are the unruly children I have to keep a firm hand on.

You’d never know that Dad is a retired judge and Mom a tenured professor, watching them act out like they are.

I order a fruit salad with some turkey bacon, which causes all sorts of ruckus from my dad about living a little, and they both make good on ordering something covered in syrup and—much to my dismay—more mimosas.

“So.” Dad leans back in his chair, scratching at his thick, graying mustache. “What are you bringing to the party?”

I frown. “Party?”

“The Fourth of July party!” My mother waves a hand, clucking her tongue. “I told you that you were in charge of the apple pie.”

“I don’t have time to make a pie,” I argue.

“But your apple pie is famous! You know everyone will be asking about it.”

“Did we forget that I just took on the biggest case of my career?”

Dad shoots me a look. “If you think that’s getting you out of coming to the party, you can think again.”

“We all know your Fourth of July thing—”

“The ninth annual Pierce Fourth of July Bash,” Dad corrects.

I roll my eyes. “Your party is just an excuse for all of your old work friends to get tipsy and for you to almost burn your hand off shooting fireworks.”

“Haven’t lost anything yet.” Dad grins, wiggling his fingers at me. “You’re coming.”

“I’ll check my schedule,” I mumble.

Mom laughs. “You know our Danica can’t do anything without making sure we completely understand how begrudged she is about it.”

“It is one of her more adorable personality traits,” Dad chuckles. “No idea where she gets it from though.”

Mom taps her chin with one manicured nail. “Maybe from your dad? You know he was an old grouch.”

“He was also a raging alcoholic,” Dad says. “Which I hope our Dani isn’t.”

“That’s fine,” I huff. “Please continue to talk about me as if I’m not here.”

“We’re just teasing,” Mom tells me, reaching to pat my hand. “You’re just always so serious, honey. Makes me worry you’re going to keel over before us.”

“Lovely,” I deadpan.

“Feel free to bring a date to the party,” my mom adds, practically winking at me like a cartoon character.

I bristle. “I’m not bringing a date.”

“Honey…” My mom’s eyes turn sympathetic. “It’s been years. You can’t keep letting Grant hang over your head like some sort of—”

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” I say through gritted teeth.

Or never, I don’t say. Grant is a nonstarter for me. He always will be.

Dad shoots Mom a worried look, clearing his throat and blessedly changing the subject. “So, do you know who the opposing counsel is yet?”

“I do,” I grind out with a scowl. I definitely don’t want to remember Ezra fucking me silly over the back of his couch a few nights ago while I’m sitting with my parents and skirting conversation about my ex. “Unfortunately.”

Dad looks at me expectantly. “Well? Who is it?”

“I—”

My mouth continues to hang open, whatever I’d been about to say trailing off into open air and wafting away as my eyes catch sight of a familiar figure entering the dining room from the bar seating area in the room beyond.

I don’t think my brain fully realizes that I’m just staring at him as he winds through the linen-covered tables effortlessly, his hands in his pockets and a sly smile on his mouth as if he’s taking a leisurely stroll through the park.

And that’s when I realize he’s headed right for our table.

My eyes dart around as I try to look for an escape; being within a ten-foot radius of Ezra Hart while my fucking parents are around is on the very bottom of my to-do list—right under Pap smears and custody hearings.

I’m seconds away from shooting up from the table and breaking out into a run without any explanation, but when Ezra raises a hand in greeting, I realize there’s no getting out of this.

“Dani,” Ezra practically purrs. “What a nice coincidence seeing you here.”

My eye twitches. “It’s…a coincidence. That’s for sure.”

“Are these your parents?” Ezra looks between my mom and dad, completely disregarding the silent “go the fuck away” I’m signaling with my eyes as he offers his hand to my mother. “Or maybe this is your sister?”

“Oh, he’s a charmer,” Mom says with a flush, taking his hand to shake it.

Dad wags a finger in Ezra’s direction. “I know you. How do I know you?”

“Can’t say,” Ezra answers casually, still ignoring the silent waves of irritation rolling off me. “Dani and I are more ‘closed door’ sort of friends.” My mouth falls open, and my mother gives Ezra a strange look, but then he adds, “I work for another firm.”

Dad snaps his fingers. “Hart! You’re the Hart boy. I’ve followed your career. Hell of a win rate.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Ezra preens.

“Never had you in my courtroom, unfortunately,” Dad goes on. “Been retired for a while now, but I still keep up with things in the court reports.”

Mom pats Dad’s arm. “Perry was a judge for thirty years.”

“Oh?” Ezra chances a glance at me, his jaw twitching with his tempered smile when he notices my narrowed eyes. “Dani never mentioned.”

“The Heartbreak Prince!” Mom makes a delighted sound before she slaps Dad’s shoulder. “That’s what they call Ezra. So clever.”

About as fucking clever as a Saturday-morning cartoon.

I clear my throat. “What are you doing here, Ezra?”

“Same as you, I imagine,” he drawls, shooting me a megawatt smile that makes me scowl even as my stomach swoops. “Having brunch.” He winks at my parents. “With lesser company, surely.”

“Well, we’re kind of busy,” I say tersely. “So…”

Ezra completely ignores me. “Did Dani tell you we’ll be going against each other on the Casiraghi case?”