Unforgiven (2 page)

“No, not that. If anything, that was the one thing I did believe.” Erin dropped her foot to the floor with a thud and clunked her soda can down on his desk as she leaned forward, fisting her hands as if she had put a lot of thought into what she was about to say. “If she’d sat there sobbing like a baby, that would have raised some red flags, but she’s not someone who falls into hysterics.”

“Well, how would you know that?” Samuel said. “Of course women cry. It’s a fact: you’re the weaker sex.”

For a minute, Samuel wondered what was going through Erin’s head, as she was staring daggers at him. Her dark eyes had a way of flashing “Fuck you” without her uttering a word.

“I guess you’re the type of guy that always falls for the damsel in distress,” Erin said, “a woman who needs a man to take care of everything for her, someone who couldn’t stand on her own two feet if her life depended on it.”

He snapped the pencil between his fingers. How could Erin be such a tough-as-nails bitch? Didn’t she get it? Men liked having a woman to take care of, to make decisions for. He did, and he always had—right?

“Oops, looks like I hit a nerve,” she said. She pulled off her glasses and blinked before blowing on the glass and rubbing them clean with the edge of her blouse. She lifted them up, looked at them, and shoved them back on. “So you’re saying that a woman who knows how to hold herself together, who can stay composed in the toughest of situations, think clearly, and not fall apart, who can easily reason before opening her mouth, that kind of woman is just acting? Because women aren’t able to reason. That’s what you’re saying, right? Let’s not mince words here, Samuel.”

How in the hell could Erin piss him off the way she did? For a moment, he was speechless. Stopping for a minute to consider what to say next, Samuel realized Erin challenged him intellectually in a way no other man or woman ever had. With her being a woman, he had to take another second before speaking so he didn’t sound like a bumbling idiot. “You’re putting words in my mouth, Erin.”

He lifted his hand when Rob MacGregor, the managing partner, stopped in the doorway. “Erin,” he announced, “I’m going to have you sit in as second chair on the deposition with Samantha Stowles. Samuel, you okay to run with it? I have to be in court before Judge Adams at two.”

He didn’t need to look over at Erin to see that she was pleased at the invite. She had, up until now, been relegated to grunt work. Even though having Erin doing his grunt work had been a win-win, the fact that Rob was now giving her that leg up to work alongside Samuel didn’t sit well with him.

“Samuel, everything okay?” Rob asked when he didn’t answer right away. Then he glanced at his watch, which was enough to let Samuel know not to push it.

“Everything’s good. I’ve got it handled,” he said. He was about to say he didn’t need Erin to sit in on the deposition with him, but Rob was suddenly pulled away by his secretary and was then walking with his briefcase toward the elevator. Samuel dropped his pencil to the desk. When he looked over, Erin was watching him still.

Then she took a deep breath, opening her mouth to say something cutting, he anticipated, when his phone rang. Normally he’d have let it go to voicemail when he was with a colleague, but he’d had about enough of his sparring match with Erin for today, so he reached for the phone.

“Samuel Wilde,” he barked. He heard Jill before she said a word.

“It’s me. I hope it’s okay that I called?” She sounded so hesitant, and if Erin hadn’t been sitting there watching him, he’d have probably said something like “I’m busy, got to go,” and that would be the end of it. She’d hang up, he’d hang up.

He turned his chair, giving Erin his back. “No, it’s fine. What is it?”

“I have to go into the doctor and thought you’d like to know.”

When had it gotten so frosty between him and Jill? They’d become two polite strangers, tiptoeing around each other.

“Everything all right?” he said. “I didn’t think you had a checkup scheduled this week, or did I get my dates wrong?” He slid around and flipped open his laptop, bringing up the calendar. He tapped his finger on the screen, and, just as he thought, there was nothing scheduled for Jill until next week.

“I don’t—I didn’t. I mean, it’s just…”

He could hear her hesitation. He always knew when she was holding something back. “What is it?” he said. He didn’t miss the way Erin glanced up sharply. He couldn’t help being irritated at Erin listening and Jill pulling the same flaky bullshit she always did. He didn’t have time for it now. Jill always seemed hesitant to say things. She’d hold on to them forever without breathing a word—but she didn’t even have to speak. She always showed the pain of whatever he’d done or said in her eyes. She never fought back, as if she didn’t want to bother him, which also made him feel like a world-class prick. “Jill, look, I’m really busy, and I need you to get to the point.”

“I haven’t felt well for a while. I don’t think it’s anything, but I was dizzy. Maybe I got up too fast. I called the doctor, and he said to come in.”

“Did you eat?” He hadn’t paid much attention to what she’d been doing. She was only working part time for Boeing in business operations, part of the team. She was one of many who collected and organized data, an easy job. She could do a lot of her work from the company laptop from home, so she was there most days, spending much of her time in his condo, working and waiting for him.

He could hear her hesitating. It wasn’t a sound, rather something that always came through on the phone line or when they were in the same room together. She was doing that more often as of late, he realized, maybe because she was afraid of how he’d react. Maybe.

“Come on, Jill. Spit it out. I don’t have time for this.” He knew he sounded short.

“Yes, I ate. It’s probably nothing. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

Why did she do that? For a minute, he wanted to reach through the phone and shake her. Instead, he took the phone and tapped it against his forehead in frustration. “Jill, for the love of God, just tell me. I don’t have time for twenty questions. I have a deposition I’m trying to get ready for.” This was starting to become the only way he spoke to her. Of course, he didn’t miss Erin’s frown.

“I just felt not quite okay—flu symptoms, kind of shaky. That’s all, Samuel. I put off calling because I wasn’t sleeping well and thought it was that. The doctor just asked me to come in. There’s nothing more because I don’t know what more there is.” She sounded upset, almost defensive.

“What time is the appointment?” He grabbed a pen.

“In an hour.” She was curt.

He glanced at his watch. It was just past nine. He could meet her there. If it didn’t take long, he could be in and out and make it back here by eleven. He could do it. It would be cutting it close, but he could blow her off, too. He was better at that. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Samuel, you don’t have to meet me. I just wanted to let you know. I can call you after—”

“Jill, I said I would meet you there.” He glanced over at Erin and then down at his watch, hating to be under the gun like this. His job was important, his position with the firm, but he had made a commitment. This baby had him so twisted up that he didn’t know if he was coming or going. “I’ve got to do a few things here, and then I’ll be there.”

She sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

He held the phone, listening to the click when she hung up. The tense vibe lingered. He stared at the phone a second before hanging up, as well. He didn’t look over at Erin even though he could feel her watching him, studying him as if trying to figure out what to say to him.

“Your wife?” she finally asked.

“Yeah, she has to go to the doctor.” He put his hand on the file and slid it across the desk. “Look I’ve gone through this, and I’m ready for the deposition. I’ll be back before the client gets here.”

Erin’s dark eyes widened to something that resembled panic. “What? No!”

Samuel slid back his chair and stepped around the desk. “I’ll be back in time.”

“No, wait, we still need to discuss this case before Mrs. Stowles arrives, and what if you don’t make it back? I’m not ready to take the lead. What am I supposed to do? They’re coming at eleven. You don’t have time.” She was still sitting, but she had shot up straight as she slid around in the chair, watching as he slipped on his dark green suit jacket and lifted his trench coat from the coat tree in the corner. His small office overlooked the bullpen of legal secretaries and clerks.

“We have nothing left to go over, so stop worrying. If they show up early, just make sure Mrs. Stowles doesn’t cross paths with her husband or his lawyer.” He strode back to his desk, grabbed his cell phone, and stuffed his iPad and all the documents he still needed to review in his tote, then lifted it over his shoulder.

“Samuel, I hope this doesn’t sound cold, because I really do want everything to be okay with your wife, but you’re a junior associate, and whether you believe it or not, I’m not vying for your job. This is a really big case for the firm, and if you screw it up, it won’t look good for you. Leaving me stuck if you don’t show is as good as screwing me, too, and I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am to be left floundering. Do you get me?”

This was the first time he’d ever seen Erin look the least bit worried. “I told you I’ll be back—and for the record, Jill isn’t my wife.”

He didn’t wait for her shocked response before he left his office, stopping at his secretary’s desk to let her know where he was going.

As Samuel walked out of the office, he remembered the day that haunted him still: his wedding, that afternoon two months before when his family didn’t show, and the despair on Jill’s face as they stood before the justice of the peace to say their vows. The only thing that had come out of Jill’s mouth was “I’m sorry.”

***

“See? This works,” Samuel said. “You can talk to me and get ready for the meeting at the same time.” He stopped outside the twelfth-floor office in the medical building eight blocks from work, sixteen from home—which was maybe one reason he didn’t want to move. Another move with Jill would mean the place was theirs, something permanent, something he believed would drive the wedge with his family even deeper.

“Samuel, I’m not kidding,” Erin said over the phone. “If you’re late for this deposition, I will kill you.”

He could hear something in her voice that he hadn’t heard before: fear. There was a click in the background and then quiet as if she had shut a door, but then, Erin didn’t have an office. She worked in the bullpen with the other third years who did all the grunt work for the other lawyers.

“Just calm down,” he said. “I’m not going to be late. You just need to have everything ready in the conference room before the client arrives. The court reporter will be there to set up, and she doesn’t need you there to do anything, so stop panicking. She’s been there before.”

“Samuel, listen to me. One of the reasons I wanted to talk to you first beforehand is that when I went through the files, I flagged something: wifey was financing hubby’s business, which is now financially on the rocks.”

“What does that have to do with her suing him for rape and trying to get that on the record? Where are you going with this?” he said. He didn’t see Jill in the waiting room. The glass doors revealed several women in all stages of pregnancy and small children playing with toys in a play area in the corner.

“Samuel, think about it. The mister’s lawyer isn’t great, but don’t you think this is rather coincidental, with the arguments that have gone back and forth between Samantha and Rick? Of course it escalated to violence, but it started out with Rick going ahead and doing something without Samantha’s knowledge, putting her on the hook for the bill. I mean, I’d be pissed, rightly so—but his lawyer is going to take her account of the rape and spin it into some sort of payback.”

Samuel listened as he saw Jill round the corner, wearing a short black trench coat, open to show a blue and pink striped sweater. Her dark eyes were already watching him, and she slowed her steps. “Good point, Erin,” he said. “Listen, I’ve got to go.” He heard Erin start to say something else as he hung up, squeezing the cell phone in his hand.

Jill shoved her hands into her coat pockets and stepped up to him. She didn’t lean in and kiss him or try to hug him, and he wondered why he was only noticing that now, as it had been so long since they’d been close, since they’d made love. Since he’d touched her.

She stood with only a few inches between them, but the walls they had erected put them in separate universes.

“How long is this going to take?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Samuel. I told you you didn’t have to come.” She sounded irritated.

“Look, I have a deposition, and I’m cutting it close now.” He checked his watch again. Of course, she’d given him an out, but he couldn’t take it. He’d done that once, and it hadn’t helped him sleep any better. “Come on.” He held up his hand as if to guide her, not touching her. She stared at it, so he started walking and pushed open one of the double glass doors. He gave her a look, as he really didn’t know what else to say to her, and she seemed to pull away from him further as she stepped around him and into the doctor’s office. She didn’t stop but walked up to the reception desk.

“I called Doctor Watts earlier today,” she said. “My name is Jill Robertson. He asked me to come right in.”

The woman behind the desk had her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She reached for a file. “Yes, of course. We’re going to squeeze you right in.” She glanced up at Samuel, who was now standing beside Jill. Maybe she didn’t recognize him, but he had a great memory for faces. “Would you like to have a seat?” she said as he shoved his cellphone into his coat pocket.

“No, I’ll tag along. That’s why I’m here.”

“It’s fine,” Jill said to the nurse.

Jill Robertson was her maiden name. She wasn’t his, not really, not in the way he wanted—the way he’d thought he wanted. Maybe that was the source of some of the hurt she’d been holding on to, too, but then, she’d been the one to not go through with the wedding. He’d been willing, she hadn’t. It had been a wasted trip to Vegas and an even more stressful trip home, all because he’d waited for at least one of his brothers to show up for his wedding and not one of them had, not Ben, Joe, or Logan. He hadn’t invited Jake.