Nothing. No buzz. No message.
Paul looked up—and smiled. But not at her.
A woman was sliding into the chair across from him. Tall. Curvy. Great hair. Effortlessly pretty in that windblown ‘I woke up like this’ kind of way. Birdy watched as Paul's date leaned forward and laid a hand on his arm. The gesture was the same way Birdy had wrapped her fingers around his arm in the hallway of the mayor's house when they'd argued.
Her fingers had felt muscle. Strength. Heat. Now someone else was touching it.
Birdy stood there, frozen, breath fogging the glass. The woman laughed at something Paul said. Then he stood—stood!—and pulled her into a hug. His hand lingered for a moment on the woman’s back. Birdy felt her blood pressure spike like she’d just downed six shots of espresso and a triple betrayal chaser.
He was cheating on her!
But they weren't even together.
But he'd proposed.
Even if it was insane. Even if she hadn’t answered. Even if it was for the baby that wasn't theirs.
Maybe he was asking another woman to marry him to save Beverly and the baby. But she hadn't even given him her answer yet. She was first in line. Shouldn't he wait for her response?
Paul, the serial proposing cheater, sat back down. He tapped his phone once—then turned it face-down on the table. And gave the woman his full attention.
Birdy’s feet shifted. She could turn around. Walk away. Be dignified. But she had never been the kind of woman who backed away from a courtroom, a boardroom, or a coffee shop showdown. And so she stepped forward.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
The coffee shop was nearly empty this late, save for the low hum of the espresso machine being cleaned for the night and the quiet clink of silverware as a barista restocked napkin holders with half-lidded exhaustion.
Paul sat across from Captain Mariah Ellis, one of the few people in the world who could both out-shoot him and out-argue him—on paper and in person. Well, aside from Birdy Chou.
Mariah's dark curls were tucked beneath a knit cap. Her JAG-issued posture was softened slightly by the faded hoodie and scarf she’d thrown on over her uniform. She cradled her mug of coffee like it was ammunition.
“In two of the cases, the court defaulted to the grandparents because the parents were considered unstable,” she was saying, tapping her blunt fingernail against the ceramic. “But when the guardian was already married and in a secure household, the kid stayed put. Judges like married people. It feels tidy.”
Paul nodded at his friend, but his gaze drifted to his phone. It was face down out of respect. He'd left the vibrator on. The phone hadn't buzzed since he started texting Birdy. It remained quiet after his last missive.
Mariah gave him a side glance. “You hearing any of this, or are you just nodding like one of those bobbleheads on your old dashboard?”
Paul exhaled, chuckling faintly. “I’m listening. Just… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
She narrowed her eyes over the rim of her mug. “Let me guess. Not the case. A woman.”
“I proposed marriage.”
Mariah cocked her head to the side. “Excuse me?”
“To the lawyer representing the baby’s mother.”
That made her put her mug down.
“It’s for guardianship. It's a legal strategy. To keep the baby and the mom together.”
Mariah tilted her head, one brow arching with slow, amused precision. “Unconventional. Risky. But yeah, it would probably work.”
She studied him for a long beat, eyes sharp and steady. Then: “But you’re not that guy, Paul. You’re the one who always wanted the house and the picket fence. You used to carry around a picture of your niece like she was your own baby.”
Paul still had that picture of baby Allison in his wallet. But that was because the little cherub was the spitting image of him and it annoyed his brother, who was of a fairer complexion.
“Are you in love with this lawyer?”
