Chapters (39)
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Praise for the Work of Mia Sosa
- By Mia Sosa
- About the Publisher
“They did. Henderson’s a fan. That’s all I’ll tell you.”
Which means he isn’t telling me everything. And that’s fair. I appreciate that Michael is willing to share this much. Above all else, I’m relieved. My mother doesn’t share much about her personal finances, but high school teachers are notoriously underpaid, and finding and furnishing a new apartment is going to take cash she probably doesn’t have. The jump in salary that comes with partnership would allow me to give her what she needs. “So, in other words, keep my head down, bring in a new client or two, and double up on work for paying clients.”
“The student has become the teacher.” Michael grins as he rises from my guest chair. “Just sit tight. If I hear anything about Kimberly Bailey, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, man.”
After Michael leaves, I close my eyes and take a rare moment to just sit with the fact that partnership is within my grasp. It’s an achievement, for sure, but I can’t help thinking that the past month has dulled its shine. I should be proud of myself. I should be anticipating what’s to come. More clients. More cases. More responsibility. Honestly, though, I’m thinking about the practical effect of it and nothing else. Partnership isn’t going to change my life; it’s going to keep it stable.
I return my attention to the emails waiting in my inbox. The sooner I can finish my work for the day, the sooner I can get home to my mother. If she’s alone for too long, I’m confident she’ll get wrapped up in the breakup. At least when I’m there, I can keep her occupied. Yesterday, we demolished the leftovers from the dinner for Cláudia and her family, took virtual apartment tours, and caught up on each other’s lives. She didn’t mention Harvey once; I thought about Solange only half my waking hours. Staying busy helped us both, apparently.
My phone buzzes. As if I’ve conjured her, Solange’s name pops up on the screen.
Solange: hey. sorry to bother you, but I think I left my bc pills in your bathroom
Me: bc?
Solange: birth control
Solange: I missed a dose yesterday so I need to get them asap
Me: got it. want to stop by tonight to pick them up?
Solange: can’t. have class. can I pick them up now? still have the key.
Me: my mother’s there. is that ok?
Solange: sure. I’ll leave the keys with her.
Me: cool. will let her know you’re coming.
Solange: be there in 15 mins. thanks.