“Did you sew Regina’s stage costume?”
He smiles.
“Wow. That’s really… You’re really talented.”
He observes himself. “The barman’s uniform is my doing, too.”
I shouldn’t shift my eyes to his figure, but it would be rude not to observe his outfit.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I didn’t decide on the amount of fabric,” he laughs nervously. “But I sewed the shorts for everyone.”
“You could use these skills of yours.”
“You mean to find a different job?” The light in his eyes fades.
“I wish I could avoid it, believe me.”
He gives me a gentle smile.
“I’m trying to make you win this case, Seth. For you, for the kids.”
“Thank you.” He reaches a hand across the table, his fingers caressing my forearm. “I promise I will listen and follow all your directions.”
I nod. His fingers slowly leave my skin, but the feeling of their light touch remains.
“I will be the perfect client.” He runs a hand through his hair again, a natural gesture that is not at all seductive but has an exceedingly devastating effect on me.
“I wish you could just be yourself,” I say sincerely.
Seth barely lowers his gaze, then wipes away a tear with his fingers.
“You are too nice to be a lawyer.”
And you are too charming. And charismatic. And good. And funny. And sweetly sensitive. All things that wouldn’t hurt in a world where you and I don’t have to fight side by side to ensure your kids aren’t ripped away from you.
“Don’t get used to it,” I say, my tone flat now. “I won’t be like this in court.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that…” He shakes his head softly. “Forgive me.” He gets up slowly. “I have to get back to work. It was a pleasure seeing you here and spending time together.” He turns and disappears into the club without giving me time to reply.
“I’m going too.” Ross quickly gets up. I guess to go over to him and make sure he’s alright. “Thanks for coming. I hope to see you both again soon.”
Paul says his goodbye to Ross while I remain silent.
“Did you have to be an arsehole?” Paul asks me as soon as we are alone. “What did you say to him?”
“Me? I didn’t say anything!”
“We’d better go too.” Paul stands up, seeming to resent me now.
I follow him outside, and as soon as we’re free of the din, I ask him, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“It was good, wasn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Going out, seeing people… These people. Especially one.”
