Lawyer Up

SEBASTIAN

I wished I had persuaded Ada to add her name change request to her divorce filings, but that wasn’t how it had happened.

She had just wanted it all done as quickly as possible, so that’s exactly what I had done. I’d bypassed all the details—such as her last name—in order to speed the process up.

Which left me in my office late on a Friday evening.

“I’m leaving Mr. Scott. Meeting some friends for drinks later. You should come,” Macy said as she popped her head in my door.

“I’d just cramp your style,” I told her.

“Are you kidding me? All my friends are in love with you.” She laughed.

“Even more reason for me to stay at home.”

“Okay, grandpa,” she said as she shook her head.

I was left alone in my office for close to two hours finishing up the week’s work. When I finally decided to call it a night, it was close to eight p.m.

I drove down the street next to my office and as I crossed over to the next road, something caught my eye.

Or rather, someone.

“What the hell?” I muttered to myself as I rolled my window down.

“Ada?” I shouted through the open space.

She turned toward me, almost falling over. She bent down a little and narrowed her eyes.

“Heeyyyy, Sebastian!” Her eyes widened.

Oh God, she was tanked.

“You’re walking home?”

Please say no, please say no, please say no.

“Yep. My phone died, can’t call an Uber.”

She shrugged and her purse fell off of her shoulder; she managed to catch it before it fell into a puddle.

“Get in,” I said as I leaned over to open up the door.

She hesitated, but then opened the door all the way and slid in.

“Here, type your address into my phone.” I handed it to her and she brought it close to her face as if she was having trouble seeing.

“It’s not far really. I could’ve walked,” she said as she handed my phone back to me.

I didn’t reply to that.

Because it was insane.

“You have your own place down here?”

I knew she had had a house with her ex, but he had it now.

She shook her head. “I moved in with my best friend Jess. After…everything.” She hiccupped.

“And you work at Bolthouse Publishing, right? That’s a convenient commute.”

She only nodded.

I pulled up to her building and got out to open her door. Her foot got caught on the curb and she stumbled. I steadied her and she burst out laughing.

Hysterical laughter that quickly morphed into hysterical crying.

Oh God.

I patted her back as she wiped her face and stood up straight, trying to at least look sober.

“Let me walk you up. Make sure you don’t fall again,” I joked.

“Sure.” She scrunched her nose.

“This is a nice place,” I said once we were safely inside the building.

She only nodded again.

“I can take it from here, Sebastian. It’s only a short elevator ride.”

“Have you not seen all the freak accidents involving elevators? I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to make sure you don’t become a statistic.”

Were there statistics? I wasn’t sure. I just knew that for the sake of my conscience, I had to bring her all the way to her door.

Or her friend’s door. Whatever.

She laughed, and I’m pretty sure it was genuine, which seemed to catch her off guard.

We walked silently to the elevators, and when she pushed the button for the top floor I was a bit surprised. It must have been written all over my face.

“She’s a fashion designer. Jess is. That’s how we met, actually. We were doing a piece on her for the magazine and Brady introduced us. You know Brady right?

“Oh! Of course you do, that’s who set me up with you… Not set me up—I mean… You know what I mean. I’m just going to shut up now.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead as the elevator doors opened.

She fumbled with her keys at the door, dropping them twice before I finally offered to help.

I pushed the door open but didn’t cross the threshold.

“Want to come in? I can make you some coffee.”

I really shouldn’t have, but I felt my feet moving without my permission.

She sat down on the couch and pulled her shoes off.

“Do you want kids?” she blurted out.

What?

“Someday, sure.”

“Yeah, me too. Someday.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and I had a feeling she was drinking over something other than just her failed marriage.

It was deeper, and it made me react weirdly. It made me want to take care of her, which was insane. I didn’t even know her.

“Do you know what’s the best food to eat when you’re drunk?” I asked, not even fully believing what I was about to do for a woman I had spent less than an hour with.

“Um, pizza?”

“That’s a close second. The best is grilled cheese,” I told her.

She sat up.

“Oh my gosh. I haven’t had one since I was a kid. I wonder if we can Postmates those…” She pulled her phone out of her bag.

“Or I could make you one,” I suggested.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“Why would you want to make me a grilled cheese?”

Why did I want to make it for her?

“I think you could use some good comfort food right now.”

I was crossing a line and I knew it.

“Okay.” She hiccupped again as she curled up on the couch.

I made my way to the kitchen and started looking for what I needed.

“Jess keeps this place stocked—everything should be there.”

She wasn’t kidding. I’d never seen so many groceries in one place. Seemed like I wasn’t the only person trying to comfort this woman with food.

“She says I don’t eat enough—I think she bought the whole dairy section,” Ada joked as she walked into the kitchen.

“Seems so,” I agreed.

“Where’s the butter?” she asked as she inspected my ingredients.

“Don’t need it. That’s what the mayo is for.”

She made a disgusted face.

“Ew. You’re going to put mayonnaise on a grilled cheese?”

“I am. And it’s going to be the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”

No doubt thanks to the four different types of cheese I had found in the refrigerator.

“If you say so.” She walked back into the living room.

Why did this whole thing feel so normal?

She felt normal. It made no sense. I didn’t even know her, other than the details of her life that pertained to her divorce, and that wasn’t much.

Everything I did was based on logic. I tried to not give my energy to anything that didn’t make perfect sense.

And the longer I thought about it, the more I realized that Ada Spencer did not make sense.

That reminded me of something.

I put her finished grilled cheese on a plate and walked out into the living room.

“I filed the petition for your name change today.”

She was fast asleep, lying on her stomach on the couch.

“Ada,” I whispered, but she didn’t budge.

What was I supposed to do now?

I couldn’t just leave her lying like that on the couch, what if she threw up in her sleep?

This was a bad idea.

The line was getting blurred, and I didn’t do blurred lines.

I would turn her on her side and then leave. It was my only option.

I slid my hand under her ribcage and flipped her over with very little effort.

Her roommate said she didn’t eat enough, and I had heard her dipshit of an ex-husband ask her if she had been eating when he had bombarded her outside the courtroom.

It was an idiotic thing for him to bring up at the time, but now I couldn’t help but wonder the same.

I looked between her and the grilled cheese before I decided to try and wake her up one last time.

“Ada.” I tapped her shoulder.

“Mmmm,” she breathed.

“You should eat. Remember—the best drunk food?”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

She poked her bottom lip out like a child and I found it cute. Way too cute, actually.

I sighed and stood up to leave. At least she was on her side now.

Her arm shot out as I stood up, and I looked down at her.

Her eyes were still closed, but she was obviously awake.

I waited a few seconds before I heard her speak.

“Stay,” she whispered.