“I know,” I reply. “Believe me, I know.”
“Well come on in, lunch is getting cold.”
I follow her into the foyer, where I smell beef and gravy. I’ve barely eaten since Cadence left. Nothing has sounded or tasted good. I’ve basically been eating only for survival, and even then only minimally.
But suddenly my mouth is watering.
“You cooked?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.
“I cooked,” Logan says, stepping out of the kitchen wearing a blue and white striped apron and holding a wooden spoon.
“You got yourself a nice little wife there, Julia,” I say, laughing.
“You shut your goddamn mouth, or no beef stew for you,” Logan says. “And I did the carrots soft like you like them.”
“Okay, now I’m jealous, Julia,” I say, trying to keep some humor. Really, though, my heart is getting heavier.
This could have been us.
Could have been me and Cadence, if I hadn’t screwed it all up.
Logan glances at me. “Wine?”
“Sure, why not.”
Logan uncorks a bottle of some pricey French red that they brought back from their honeymoon. Three weeks traveling around France tasting wine, that’s what they’ve been up to. And until recently, that would have sounded like hell to me. I don’t do vacations, and I certainly don’t do indulgence. But even a moment spent imagining being on that trip with Cadence is enough to rip my heart out of my chest.
I practically lose my breath from the thought.
We each take a seat at their dining room table, a smallish farm number made of reclaimed wood, and again I’m reminded of how strange it is that this is where they’re living.
“I thought you guys would be in Back Bay,” I say, gazing around at the apartment, which can’t be more than 1200 square feet. “Or maybe Beacon Hill. Cambridge, at least. What’s with the digs?”
Julia and Logan exchange a glance across the table. I put my wine glass down and cross my arms over my chest.
“Well, we have something to tell you,” Logan says, his voice trailing off.
My eyes dart between them. “Please don’t tell me you’re already pregnant.”
“God no,” Julia practically yelps, which makes Logan roll his eyes.
“We’ve left Baker Beeman,” Logan says.
“Better offer somewhere else?”
“Not exactly,” Logan says.
“Will one of you two please just spill the beans already?”
“We’ve decided to start our own firm,” Julia says.
Well that wasn’t news I was expecting. I assumed the pair of them were on their way to partner at Baker Beeman. “Really?”
“Yes,” Logan says. “We’re tired of the corporate rat race, and we very quickly realized that we don’t need the money that badly enough to justify the crap that comes with it.”
“Some of the people and companies we represented made us sick,” Julia adds.
“We’re going to start a firm that represents organizations dedicated to causes like immigration, education, and the environment. We’ll also be dedicating twenty-five percent of our business to pro bono work for small clients,” Logan explains.
“We’re talking direct immigration help to families, fair housing disputes, legal wrangling over mortgages and trusts,” Julia says. “We want to have both a large and small-scale impact.”
“That sounds great, you guys,” I say. And it really does. It’s not like they’re going to be working any less with this new venture. Starting up your own firm is hard enough, but when you’re focusing your efforts on people and organizations who historically can’t pay, it means even longer hours.
“Which is where you come in,” Logan says.
“Me? I already have a job.”
“Which you love oh so much,” Julia says, her voice dripping sarcasm.
“We want you to handle the pro bono stuff. You’re the most amazing litigator on the planet, and we’d like to see what can happen when we put someone like you on the side of someone whose landlord is trying to fleece them or someone who’s on the verge of being deported. We think people like that deserve an attorney of your caliber,” Logan explains.
My initial gut reaction is to say no.
But then I ask myself why. Sure, Maxon Law bears my name, but at this point the firm is nothing more than an albatross around my neck, a daily reminder of all the ways my life has gone completely and totally off track.
And I think of Cadence—what she would say if she were here right now. She’d tell me to go for it.
Her eyes would be sparkling and she’d tell me that life would be way more interesting and invigorating working with my best friends, doing good work for people that actually need it.