Kevin had moved down to DC. He’d wanted her to leave the firm too, to go with him. She didn’t understand how he could even ask that of her, given her mother’s regrets. And he’d been angry when she’d said no, that she wanted to stay in New York working for a Wall Street law firm and make it as a partner. But then he seemed to recover, to be willing to date long distance. And she had believed him. Until they’d attempted a romantic weekend together at this charming bed and breakfast in Virginia. The setting was from a Jane Austen movie, but Kevin moping about how he hadn’t made partner and looking like he’d been stabbed if she mentioned anyone’s name from the firm had not been conducive to fulfilling its romantic promise.

The next morning, with the sun streaming through the frilly-curtained window, she’d woken up to find him tenderly staring at her. He’d gently pushed the hair away from her face and said, “You know you’ll never make partner. You’re too nice.” She’d stared at him, hurt, her stomach sinking, vowing she would make partner.

Feeling betrayed, she hadn’t been nice then. She’d told him that she was sick of his whining about not making partner. His shocked, hurt face still haunted her. It hadn’t made her feel better to tell him that. Just guilty that she’d hurt him. Even if he had just hurt her. And then they’d broken up and that was the note it had ended on. So, her mother was right that it was better to be nice.

“Tim’s never shown that he would be like that,” Audrey said. But then, Kevin hadn’t shown that initially either. She needed a boyfriend who fully supported her career.

Eve suddenly noticed Audrey’s packed bag. “You’re not off to work, are you?”

“Yes.”

“I prefer your cookie craziness to your work craziness.”

As if on cue, Audrey’s work phone buzzed. Eve waved goodbye. “See you tonight.”

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Audrey had already emailed the updated memo to Malaburn around noon after spending the morning writing it. She was making good progress. She’d be on time to meet her friends at eight for a movie. On the whiteboard on her office wall, she drew a green line in a flow chart detailing her proposed strategy for the Rothman case. Green for yes. The alcohol smell of dry-erase markers charged the air. Figuring out how to win cases was like a thought-provoking puzzle with real-life consequences. She studied the pros and cons of starting with Rothman as the first witness. Lists were always her first tool to figure things out. The final picture was emerging. She nodded crisply. Once she was finished brainstorming, she’d write a memo for Hunter proposing her case strategy. Her phone beeped.

Eve: Saw Jake. Alone.