Christmas, 1994

JC and I, Morgan and Nick always exchanged gifts on December 23rd. We'd meet up at Nick's house around noon, since his parents would be at the clinic they ran. Nicks mom considered it a little party and she always made sure there were punch and cookies and snacks galore. We'd lie around watching movies in the home theater, talking and laughing, having a great time and enjoying our winter break from school. 

Our parents didn't like us hanging out too long at the Del Ray's, since Nick was alone a lot. And because Nick and Morgan were a couple and our parents considered them a questionable influence. So around 5:00, we'd gather around the six foot Douglas fir with white pearl lights and sparkling tinsel and glass bulbs.

We'd pull out the small packages we had surreptitiously hidden under the tree earlier in the day and pass them around. I always got Morgan something soft and pink. That year she was into leg warmers so I found her a cute knit pair at the mall. She squealed when she opened them and put them right on. I also got her a pair of dangly pink feather earrings.

The guys always got each other music or movies or clothes-a t-shirt or something otherwise ‘cool'. One year they gave each other the same shirt, thought it was hilarious, and on occasion would plan to wear them the same day.

JC and I had been together for almost two years at this point and he'd never disappointed on a gift giving holiday.  That year I'd gotten him something I knew he'd really like, so, excited, I handed him the medium sized box that I wrapped all by myself. He handed me a small box that, unfortunately, looked like he wrapped all by himself.

"Don't frown at the wrapping, Angie," he scolded, then ripped the paper off of the box I'd handed him.

"I'm not. I'm just wondering why you couldn't at least get Nick to help you. Look at the box he wrapped for Morgan." I tipped my head toward the other couple, who sat, heads together, investigating the video game that Morgan had bought Nick.

"Morgan wrapped her own present," he quipped, peeling off the tape holding the box closed. He tipped the lid up, then his eyes lit up and his mouth dropped open. "Yeah! Oh my God, Angie!"

I giggled at his reaction, overjoyed that he loved it. He reached into the box and pulled out the Washington Redskins Football Jersey, gently and lovingly unfurling it like a flag. Also in the box was some paraphernalia-a logo key chain and a Redskins Velcro close wallet.

"This is so awesome. Thank you, baby!" He leaned over and kissed me but was really more interested in his new jersey and Redskins gear. "My team! I can represent!"

"You're welcome. I thought you'd like that."

"I totally like it-I love it. Okay, open yours." He put his gifts down long enough to turn himself toward me so he could watch me open the poorly wrapped box.

The paper was green, with Christmas trees printed all over it. I tore it away to reveal a small, nondescript black box. I lifted the lid from the box and pushed aside the two thin layers of tissue paper. Inside the box lay a gorgeous, pewter locket. It looked antique and had a clasp, the kind that flips open and holds tiny pictures inside.

"Open it," he said, so I clicked the tiny button and inside was the cutest picture of JC and me from the previous summer, out on Lake Conway with family and friends. We'd laughed at a joke at the same time and then laughed at each other. His dad snapped a photo just then, a happy moment frozen in time.

My grin was so wide my face hurt. It was the single most meaningful gift he'd ever given me and I could hardly wait to put it on. I pulled the locket from the box; it dangled by a thin silver chain. I maneuvered myself around so he could put it on me, and then jumped up right away.

"Where are you going?"   

"I want to look at it!"

I ran to the bathroom and snapped on the light, my breath catching at the view of the delicate locket hanging at a perfect length around my neck. JC ambled around the corner and leaned against the doorjamb. "So you like it? I had to get my mom to help me pick it out."

"I love it. It's so awesome." I played with it, rubbing the metal between my fingers, then flicking it open, smiling at the picture inside, and snapping it closed again. Then I grabbed his arm, dragged him into the bathroom and closed the door. "I really, really love it."

A few minutes later, we emerged, sweaty and red-faced. We hadn't had sex, but we'd done enough that we were both satisfied.

JC dropped me off at my front door, his usual habit, but before I could turn the knob and walk inside, he stopped me, snaking his arm around my waist and bringing me in for one last, long hug for the night. We'd both be with our families through Christmas and wouldn't see much of each other.

"I'm really glad you like your gift," he whispered in my ear and dropped a kiss on my cheek. Then he pulled back and smiled that shy, sweet smile at me. Nervous, he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back even though the heavy waves would just fall forward again, feathering around his face. I smiled up at him, wrapped my arms around his neck and stretched up onto my toes to kiss him.

We were still kissing when my dad opened the door and snapped on the porch light.

***

The lunch crowd at Grande Luxe has thinned by the time JC and I arrive for a belated midday meal. We pick our favorite table and slide into either side of the booth, accept a menu from the waitress and chatter with her as she sets our table with water and silverware wrapped in napkins. She steps away to let us decide what we're going to order.

"Starvin'," JC says, perusing the menu he knows by heart. We'd been coming to Grande Luxe since we were kids. While there were some additions and subtractions and revamps over the years, the menu hadn't changed that much.

"I'm sorry that took so long."

"It's okay. I'm not complaining. I'm just hungry, is all." JC flips the menu over, scans it quickly, and then slides it to the edge of the table. "I think I'm going to just get a burger. I've worked up an appetite."

I'm still trying to decide. "Yeah, all that waiting really takes a lot out of a guy."

We've been at the hospital all morning. I'm old hat at this hospital thing by now. A few days ago, my dad started having tremors-heavy shaking that he can't seem to control or bring himself out of and that mom can't regulate with medication. Eventually, they subsided, but the doctor decided he that he wanted to see Dad. During their weekly Thursday night poker game, JC overheard my mother trying to arrange a courtesy van to pick him up and take him to his appointment, since she had a meeting at dad's dealership. The van was full and she couldn't get him on it, so JC offered to take him. Grateful, Dad agreed.

But he should have told JC not to tell me, because when JC came home and mentioned, casually, that he was taking my dad to the hospital for some tests in the morning, I freaked out. I called the night service at the Firm and told them I wouldn't be in and insisted on going with them.

It turned out to be nothing more than violent tremors, par for the course for Parkinson's. Dad was afraid the episode meant he was getting worse, or that his meds weren't working. Doctor Barnes spent a few hours running tests and monitoring his levels and determined everything to be fine. He sent Dad home with orders to rest and stay on his medications at the current dosage.

It was time for his nap, so we took Dad home, tucked him in and gave the report to mom to follow up.

As I slid into the passenger seat of JC's car, I sucked in a deep breath, held it and then exhaled.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "He's okay, honey. He's okay."

"Yeah." I try to relax, tamp down my anxiety. It's tough to watch him deteriorate, worrying about every little thing that seems out of the ordinary. Dad's strong though, upbeat with a great attitude about his illness, even a little laid back. He makes it easier to hold on.

"How about some lunch? Our favorite place?"

JC's fingers brush mine as we wait for the waitress to come back and take our order.

"Remember that one time we narrowly missed getting arrested by coming here after stopping by that party?"

I snort. "Yes! Whose party was that? Cade Johnson, right?"

"Right. His parents were out of town so he thought he'd just have a couple of kids over. Turns into a total rager. I'm so glad we decided to leave when we did."

"You? I would still be grounded today if I'd got arrested that night." We'd shown up at the party about an hour after the announced start time. It was already out of control-loud music, people hanging out everywhere, cars up and down the street, kids screaming and whooping into the night. Our team had won, still undefeated, so there was reason to celebrate.

I remember glancing at JC as we pulled up to the house. There was nowhere to park within blocks. "Maybe we should wait awhile for it to die down," I suggested.

So we went to Grande Luxe. And while we were there, kids that we knew were at that party started to come in and sit at the tables around us. JC twisted around to ask one guy what was up, was the party lame? "Busted," the kid said. "Cops showed up. Everybody ran."

The waitress stops by our table to take our orders and menus. We sit in comfortable silence, listening to the piped in music crackling through the speakers above us.

JC's eye catches something. I've been waiting for him to notice. "Hey," he says, sitting straight up all of a sudden.

"Hm?"

He points at the silver locket that hangs from my neck, still at a perfect length. He's staring hard at it. "Is that what I think it is?"

I smile and finger the metal, worn and softened by the years. "I found it when I was packing my apartment."

"I didn't realize you even still had it."

"Well, I do."

"Is the picture still in there?"

I shake my head ‘no'. His face falls, ever so slightly. "I still have it. It's just not in here." I flip the locket open and reveal a picture of us on St. Lucia. The day we'd come back from the kayak trip and we were sitting together up against the tree trunk.  Someone had snapped a photo and added it to a slideshow site where we'd all uploaded our pictures for sharing. I downloaded it for myself and when I found the locket, had it resized to fit inside.

"That's a nice shot," he says, before I snap the locket shut. "I like that one."

"Me too. So, tomorrow you have to wear the Red Skins jersey I bought you that year, along with your key chain and your wallet, okay?"

We laugh together as the waitress arrives with our lunch-chicken sandwich for me, burger for JC and fries we could share.

"I probably still have that stuff in a box in my parent's basement. I never threw away anything you gave me."

I stop chewing a fry as I glance at him. "Really?"

"Really." He undresses, then redresses his burger and takes a bite. Mouth full, he says, "I'm going to look for them when we go by there Christmas Eve."

"You don't have to look for some crap I gave you when we were sixteen."

"It wasn't some crap. You had to save a lot of allowance money to buy that. It meant a lot to me."

I can't and won't argue with him. JC had a job, but I was always saving half of my weekly allowance to be able to buy him something for Valentine's Day, his birthday and Christmas. It meant half as much spent on things I liked, like nail polish and cool clothes and shoes, but worth it to see the look on his face when he opened that box.

"I like that you're wearing that," he comments, finishing off his burger. "And that you still have it."

"I'm not sure I meant to still have it, but I do." I blush and dip my head and shove a fry into my mouth. "I threw away a lot of stuff you gave me."

"Yeah. Pissed off girls do that kind of thing."

After lunch, we get in the car and JC starts it up, but instead of pulling out of the space, he leans onto the arm rest, his face an inch from mine. I close the short distance between us and kiss him.

"Thanks for lunch. I needed that, after today."

"Sure," he says. "You don't have to go to the office, do you?"

I shake my head. "No. I brought my files home so I can work from the house. Why?"

He gives me that coy smile he's been giving me for weeks. I've stopped asking what's up, because he never tells me. He just acts mysterious and then walks around with a smug grin. Classic JC. I'm just about over it.

He finally pulls out of the spot and starts heading in the opposite direction of home. I'm curious, but I'm not asking questions.

On the way to wherever we're going, he asks me questions about work: how the Partners are doing at bringing in cases, how Tyler's managing with a heavier load than he's used to. He lets me complain and relate story after story of why I don't want to work at Flanning & Rourke much longer. All the while, we're headed toward downtown and the Business District.

We turn into an empty parking lot that surrounds a beautiful two story brick building with elegant arches, lots of wide windows and what looks like freshly planted grass and bushes around the perimeter. He takes into a spot right in front of the building and cuts the engine. Wearing that same smug grin, he pops open his door and gets out of the car. I follow his lead and meet him at the glass double door entrance. The lights are on inside; the building is empty.

"What is this place?"

"You're about to find out. Wanna let us in?"

I reach for the door and pull one of the handles. It's locked. "Sure, if you have a key."

JC pauses, then grins. "Honey, you have a key."

"I have a key? To this place?"

"Yeah." He stares at me for a few seconds before he starts to laugh. He reaches out to cup my chin and tip my head up. "Baby. Think. You have a key."

My eyes pop open. Wide open. I have a key.

My purse hangs from the crook of my arm by short, rounded straps. I dig into and grab the ring with the silver key to the home we share and the mysterious, homeless brushed gold key. I hold it up. Grinning, I almost shout, "I have a key!"  

Then, confused, I frown. "Why do I have a key?"

He chuckles and nods toward the door. "Let us in. I'll show you."

I insert the key into the lock below the door handle and twist. It unlocks easily and we swing the door open and step inside. Our footsteps echo on the dark tile as we walk toward a large, round wooden reception desk. The wall behind the desk goes all the way to the up, leading to solar panels that allow the sunshine to beam in, lighting and warming the building. The space is wide, open and airy.

On either side of the reception desk, the two separate hallways are open. I can see all the way down to the other end of the building. A flight of stairs leads to the second floor. The whole space flows from front to back, top to bottom.

It smells new. The building's façade is obviously old, but the interior is renovated. I smell fresh paint; I see windows still encased in plastic wrapping. The floors gleam with a shine that doesn't say it was laid fifty years ago. The wood on the stairs looks freshly milled, the banisters still dusty as if they'd just come off the lathe and sander.

This place is under construction.

"You ask me a lot what I do all day."

JC had been walking ahead of me, point things out here and there. Now he turns and smirks. "I'm either over at the place my Uncle had renovated for Ty, or I'm here. The place my Uncle is having renovated for him."

I'm starting to understand. JC's Uncle isn't moving back to Florida to join the ranks of retired seniors, playing golf and shopping at Wal-Mart. He's coming back to work. In his own firm. A new and improved firm, from the looks of it.

"The whole place is wired for hi-def and surround sound. We'll have a couple TV's up here by the front desk. Gotta keep up on the news. Every office is wired for cable and will be piped into the network room at the back of the house. You can play music or watch TV or whatever, in your office." He shrugs. "Lawyers live at work. Why not make it comfortable?"

I follow him as he points out more rooms. We walk into a small room lit by the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Around the perimeter are long tables where, every few feet, a flat screen monitor, mouse and keyboard are plugged into a computer tower.

"Law Library. Everything we need is online now. Lexis-Nexus too. Everybody will have a login and anything you need can be emailed to you, or you can print it out. You can also dial into this network with a private connection, so you can work from home if you need to."

A few doors down is another room, larger with a wide table, leather rolling chairs standing at attention around it. On one wall is what must be a 60inch television. The table has a square cut in the middle, with a conduit running to the floor. He reaches over and flips one end of the square, revealing a number of plug-in ports.

"Plug your laptop in here, USB or HDMI cables and what not. It beams onto the screen there. There's a ceiling mounted camera so we can do video conferences. It's... also a TV, in case you need to catch up on The Young and the Restless."

We walk more around the first floor, finding the copy room with several machines ready for the power switch to be flipped and put into service. "These are all coded, so if you're making copies for a case, you can punch in that number, it adds it to the billing for that case. Wait until you see the accounting system Pete uses. He helped design it. Revolutionized law billing."

JC sounds excited; I would be too, if I got to be a part of a firm that was operating in the current century-and maybe beyond, looking at some of the technology in place. The building I work in is falling apart. Our parking lot isn't even paved.

We pass a few closets-network room, supply closet, filing, storage-then climb the stairs.

"The Associate offices are downstairs. Senior Attorneys and Partner offices are up here." There's a second conference room, a mirror image of the one downstairs. The rooms are larger, with space for an Executive desk, lateral files, a meeting table and chairs. Bright, airy and spacious.

I'm jealous.

"This is my Uncle's office," he says, heading to the furthest edge of the floor. "Corner office of course, biggest office. Most responsibility."  It's already furnished with what looks like an antique desk, credenza, computer hutch, and leather chair, still wrapped in plastic and tape from the moving company. A sliding door reveals a private conference room with the same setup as the others, only smaller.

A few doors down from his Uncle's office, he stops and swings into an open room. "And this is mine."

The room is carpeted-black background with bold designs in red and yellow, swirls and circles and blocks creating a pattern. It's otherwise empty. His voice echoes through the empty space. "Furniture comes Monday. I picked some nice stuff-- dark wood. I think it'll go nicely with the carpet. A lot like my office over at Perry."

He turns and points to the TV mounted on one wall. "Got the important part installed, though."

"Your office. So you're working for your Uncle?"

He walks to the window and perches on the windowsill. He folds his arms across his chest like he's got a story to tell.

"More like with. New York is a mad house and he wanted to come back to Florida. He'll still do some work for them but he wanted to come home. I'd been talking to him about Perry, getting advice because I was just ready to leave. Except for working cases with you, I hated what I was doing. That stuff Flanning and Rourke is doing? Perry did it too."

He stands and paces the room, hands in his pockets. It must feel great to finally let everything out. I let him talk.

"They wanted me to do stuff like post up at the hospitals and look for accidents and hand out my card. Read the papers and the court filings and cold call, drum up business like that." He shakes his head, his eyes closed like he could block out the memory. "That's not what I want to do with my life. They told me if I won that last case I was working on with you, that I'd get a promotion. That should have made me happy. It didn't. I felt trapped. So I lost the case and then I quit. They were doubly pissed."

"You were their meal ticket, practically. You won just about every case you argued." And I knew, because I always tracked his cases. His ratio was unbelievable.

"But being ruthless is hard work. Pretty tiresome and it doesn't pay enough. Not to hear from the woman you love that she's ashamed to share your profession. They didn't care how close to the line I walked, how many rules I bent, how many times I almost got myself disbarred or had to go in front of the disciplinary committee. Whatever it takes to win. That's not law."

He bites his lip, staring into the air. "It's a game. I'm not in this to play games. This is people's lives. I'm in this to change lives."

"So... your uncle is opening a firm here. And you're working with him. Why keep it a secret? Why couldn't anyone know?"

"Two reasons." He crosses the room and stops when he stands in front of me. He brings his hands out of his pocket and slides them around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I don't object or fight it, letting myself be pulled right up against him.

"First, I didn't want a lot of questions, because I didn't know the answers yet. My uncle moves slowly. He's a thinker, a slow planner. I didn't think he'd really come through. And then when he did, I wasn't sure he'd be on board with what I really want to do with this place."

"What you want to do? Isn't this his firm?"

"Our firm. I'm the Managing Partner." My eyebrows shoot to my hairline in surprise. He chuckles. "Did I not mention that? I'll be running this place, pretty much, with his direction. Heading up everything, hiring and running the departments, managing the budget and growth planning. And practicing a little bit of law."

"You're good at that stuff. And the law, too." I wink and give him a long, loud smooch. "Congratulations, baby. This place looks awesome already. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks. I hoped you'd like it."

"Me? Why?"

He steps back, then grabs my hand and leads me out of the room, down the hallway, around the U-shaped bends to the other side of the building. "Second reason," he says, pulling me into a room that is the size of his office. Same set up. Also empty.

"No furniture yet, because I don't know what you want. I didn't want to be presumptuous, but we can look through some catalogs and stuff and pick out something. Won't take long to get here."

He's standing in the middle of the room and talking, saying words, but I don't really understand them. Something about picking out furniture for this room.

"Don't make me say it, Angie," he says, every inch of his face showing his smile, his eyes the brightest, most sparkling blue I've ever seen.

"Are... do you mean..." I swallow. My throat is so dry. I'm lightheaded, so I back up and lean up against a wall. "This... this is my office. In your firm. Your law firm."

"If you want it to be." He kicks at a loose tuft of fabric from the carpet, then bends over to pick it up and shoves it in his pocket. "I didn't want to assume that you'd come and work with me. Before I knew you were so miserable at F&R, I thought you might actually turn me down. But lately it seems like this would be a dream come true for you."  He waves his arm around the empty room and shows me what my dreams could be made of.

"Think about it, honey. A place where you can practice the kind of law you want to practice. Bosses that aren't demanding that you chase ambulances or compromise what you believe in. You can use your degree, your skills, your talent to change lives, fight for the less fortunate. It's what you do really well. Actually, you're the best I've ever seen at it, and I'd love work alongside that kind of passion."

I feel like I'm dreaming, but I know I'm not. At least, I hope I'm not.

"So I'd work for you?"

He shakes his head. "Nope. We both work for Uncle Pete. I wanted that to be clear when I proposed it to him. The Senior Attorneys work for him. The rest of the staff works for me."

"Holy shit." I pace, fanning myself, because I'm suddenly hot. And breathing faster because I'm hyperventilating. There aren't words to describe how badly I want to run to Flanning and Rourke, grab everything that is mine and run back out, screaming ‘Fuck you!" And then never set foot in that old, rickety, broken down building ever again.

"So... I come to work for Peter Chasez-"

"At the Florida Center for Justice," he says. I cringe. "We're still working on the name, but Chasez & Chasez sounds... cumbersome."

"And I... practice law. The way I want. The cases I want. The clients I want. And there's no pressure to win at all costs or anything otherwise shady and annoying?"

"Well, it's always good to win. We want to win. But we want to win the right way, the way that lets us sleep at night and like ourselves the next morning."

I stop pacing, landing in front of JC. "Uhm. Us... I mean..."

"How's this going to work with you and me being together?"

I nod. The very last thing I want to do is poison our love life by combining our work lives.

"We're at opposite ends of the floor, on purpose. Doesn't take much effort to see me if you want to. If you don't, it's not like we'll run into each other around every corner. You'll be busy. So will I. We won't be in court together unless you want to be. And we won't be on the same cases. I won't be your boss, so I won't be dictating anything to you. And we don't assign cases here, so you won't have a chance to hate me for giving you a case you don't want or have time to handle."

"This... this sounds so good... too good. Like everything I want in a firm."

"I designed it that way. Every complaint you or Tyler or I ever had about working for a firm, I tried to answer that. I wanted to create a place where people are fighting to come to work here."

"When would I start?"

"We should be open for business by January. Whenever you can bring your cases and start billing, whenever you're ready to upgrade your career.  You don't have to leave F&R to start here. We can leave signing the contract and all that to the last minute. But..."

He turns in the empty room, his voice bouncing off of the walls. "I'm not buying furniture for this office without a commitment."

"Yes."

I don't think he was expecting an answer so soon or so quickly or with so much conviction, but I feel like if I don't jump on this chance, I'll be stuck at F&R indefinitely, jealous of JC in his new fancy digs and regretting not taking the chance because I was scared of working in the same building.

"Yeah? You're sure?"

I smile, then laugh and open my arms. He crosses the room and steps into them, grabbing me up and hugging me so hard he lifts me off the floor.  "You won't regret it," he says, when he puts me down. "I'm making that promise to you. Between me and Pete, you'll be happy here. We decided that has to happen."

"I appreciate being a high priority. But... can I ask a favor?"

"The same deal goes for Tyler," he said, reading my mind, answering my question, granting my request in one statement. "I can't rescue you and leave my brother in that shit hole. He and Jade are coming by in a bit. We can tell him together."

My mouth drops. JC is full of surprises today.   "I'm not sure you realize the magnitude of everything you've done here, the chance you're giving us, me and Tyler."

"It's not just me," he protests. That shy smile comes back, the one that says he really does know, but he's being humble. "I want the people I love to be happy and if there's anything I can do to make that happen, I'll jump on it."

"The people you love, love you back."

He smiles. "About that..."  He pulls me close again, drops his lips to mine and gives me a long, deep, sweet kiss.

"I've been avoiding saying it because I don't want you to automatically say it back. I see you biting your tongue to not say it. I know you think it. I want to say it, and I want to hear it.

"But I didn't want you to say it until I felt like I deserved it after all those years. I made a huge mistake, and you had every right to be mad at me, and maybe I felt like we shouldn't have stayed broken up over that, but that was no reason to harass you for so long over it. To stalk you, to instigate fights, to get joy out of beating you down, especially in the courtroom. I was grateful you took me back, but I didn't feel like I deserved it."

"Oh, baby. I was never asking you to prove that. I took you back because I wanted to be with you again, because I-"  I stop, wondering if he's going to let me say it.

He swallows, hard and audibly and bites his lip. His lashes drop to his cheek as he closes his eyes. "You can say it," he whispers. "I want to hear you say it."

I step close to him, place my hands on his face and stroke the beard he's been growing for the past few weeks with my thumbs. "Open your eyes, baby."

His eyes open and I get to watch them glass over when I tell him, "I love you. You are my first and only love, the love of my life, always have been. No one ever compared to you. And no one ever will. What you've done for me in the last couple of months has more than made up for all those years. You don't have anything else to prove to me."

I pull him to me brush my lips against his. His head tilts and his mouth opens and the kiss deepens. I feel every emotion coursing through his body as he holds me. He squeezes me in his arms, so tight I can barely breathe.

"I love you too." He's trying hard to maintain his cool, but his face is crimson and he's shaking with the effort. "My mom made me promise to never make a stupid mistake ever again, because she can't take another breakup."

Our laughter lightens the mood but not the emotion. I'm still basking in the glow of knowing I have a new job when I am ready to move to it,  my man loves me to the ends of the earth and I love him back and we're about to jump into an exciting adventure together.   

"So..." he pulls back and grabs my hand, winding his fingers between mine. "What are you thinking you'll do with your office?"

I gasp, looking around. My mind is a complete blur. "Oh, gosh. I don't even know. I think I'm going to have to look at some pictures and plan it out. I can't believe I'm going to have room enough to move around. Tyler can walk into my office without the door banging into a chair."

"Ty's an Associate, since he's only had his license for a couple of years, but he'll have an office downstairs, not a cube. He's going to be excited."

"When does he find out about the condo?"

"Christmas. Just a couple of days. He's set for life and doesn't even know it yet." My eyes grow huge at the thought that Tyler doesn't know how his life is going to change.  JC flicks his wrist up to check the time and glances at me. "He'll be pulling up any second. Let's head downstairs."

We retrace our steps through the halls and back down the stairs. JC is telling me that he has an office design book for me to look through when I'm ready to start putting my office together. I tell him I'm ready now. He laughs. "Well, hold off until we tell Tyler so you two can work together. Kill two birds with one stone. You know that kid needs help."

As soon as we get down the stairs and around the reception desk, I see Tyler and Jade stepping out of his car, looking up at the building, squinting into the sunlight. JC rushes toward the door and pushes it open.

"Hey dude. Come on in."

***

Tyler is still in a daze hours later. He just shakes his head, then swipes his palms over his bald head and down his face and says, over and over, "Oh, man." 

The fire pit is lit, shooting sparks into the sky and waves of warmth in our direction. JC and I are enjoying some wine. Tyler is having something a little harder. Jade had to head to work-she'd picked up a few weekend shifts at Prime-but she stuck around long enough to toast our new beginnings before she headed out.

"So, all this time, you and Uncle Pete have been planning this."

"Scheming," I add. "They've been scheming."

"You could call it scheming," JC says, owning up to his undercover activities. "There was a little bit of covert action going on. I didn't want anyone to know until it was done, everything set. If it fell apart, I didn't want to raise any hopes just to disappoint later."

"I mean, I get that... I just..." Tyler looks over at me and smiles. "Can you believe it?"

"I had to catch up real quick so I didn't miss out.  This will be great. We'll have a good time and we'll do some good work."

"Yeah, man." Tyler paused, then sat up, switching his drink to the opposite hand. "Hold up. Wait.  Associates work for you? So I'm working for my brother?"

JC laughs. "And Angie and I work for our uncle. But it's not like I'm going to be an asshole. I told you. You bring in your own cases. If you have enough work to do, you won't be assigned cases. If you're assigned cases, we're not taking anything shitty or shady."

Tyler nods, his bottom lip between his teeth. He's deep in thought... daydreaming, I imagine. JC gets up, walks into the house and comes back with a thick glossy catalog. He hands it to me and nods to Ty.

"You two should start looking at that. Pick out some stuff that looks nice, suits you. Like I said, lawyers live at work. If you want to sit on a rubber ball and have bean bag chairs in your office, we'll do that. Make it unique and comfortable. No cookie cutter, stuffy law offices at Florida Center for Justice."

"That name blows so hard," quips Tyler, grabbing the book from my hands and flipping through the pages.

"Make yourself useful. Throw out a suggestion. We haven't filed for a business license yet. Still operating under Pete's old license for now."

"How about Chasez Law Group? You got you, me, Pete..." He glances over at me and winks. "Angie pretty soon probably."

JC shrugs, sips his wine. "What do you think?" He asks me.

"It's better than Florida Center for Justice. Who came up with that?"

Offended, JC rears back. "I came up with that! You don't like it?"

I laugh. "I love you, but it's awful."

He takes another sip of wine, then lifts an arm and drops it around my shoulder, pulling me close to him. He kisses my temple, his lips still wet. "I'm going to let you get away with that, because you said you loved me."

"You guys are giving me diabetes." Tyler gets up, drains his glass and ambles into the house. He comes back with a bottle of water and twists off the top, then resumes his seat across from us. He sips and watches us as we talk, sitting closely together, sharing a smooch here and there.

"So... I know I say a lot that I knew ya'll would be back together, and I know you don't take me seriously when I say it. And maybe it really was just wishful thinking. But it's sure nice to see my brother happy again."

"Thanks, man."

"Yeah, thanks Ty."

"You're welcome. And now I need to use your facilities and go see my honey at Prime before I head home."

After Tyler leaves, we tamp out the fire in the pit and move to the living room. I head to the kitchen and put together a tray of snacks for us-some cheese and crackers, slices of ham, turkey and salami, nuts and apple chunks. I grab two bottles of water and join JC on the couch. He's cued up a movie on Netflix-something weird with subtitles, but I don't complain because I don't care.  I just want to be next to him, in the glow of twinkling lights from our first Christmas tree.

JC is already commenting on how much weight he's gained since I moved in. He's not used to seeing food in his refrigerator, having something quick to snack on or warm up for lunch or dinner. I tell him it's almost an even trade. What he's saving in bar tabs and restaurant bills, he's gaining in a woman that loves to cook for him. He doesn't quite see it my way.

We are twenty minutes into the movie and I have no idea what's happening. It's in French, some deep, mysterious film that someone told him was good and he should watch it.  After plowing through half a sleeve of crackers and almost all of the cheese, I give up, drop a kiss on his cheek and leave him to his terrible movie. I head upstairs, deciding I could really use some time to myself to process the day.

My favorite spot in the house is the Master bathroom. The enormous garden tub is a feature I would miss terribly if we had to move and leave it behind. I'm so thankful we don't, especially tonight.

I pull my hair into a ponytail and then wrap it around and tuck it until it's in a high bun. The tub is filling with hot water, the steam already rising and spreading a light, lovely flower scent into the air from the bath beads that I've tossed into the water. When the tub is full, I peel off my clothes and settle in, leaning my head against the side of the tub with a rolled up towel under my neck.

My brain is completely full, right now. Between my dad, my job and my boyfriend, every spare brain cell I have is occupied by some thought or plan or action.  They're all vying for top rank and I just don't have the capacity right now to sort everything out and make the best decision. I thought I was really stressed out when I was unhappy, mad at the world and buried in work so I could ignore my life. Now I have a life I've always wanted to live and I'm still stressed out.

Maybe the grass isn't really greener on this side of the fence.

The bathroom is full of steam, the air warm and wet. When JC opens the door to pop his head in, a swoosh of cool air blows across my shoulders.

"Hey. You okay in here?"

"Yeah.  Can you close the door, please? You're letting in cold air."

"Yes ma'am," he says. I'm expecting him to step out, but he walks in and shuts the door behind him. I watch him unbutton and unzip his jeans, then push them down and kick them off. His socks and underwear follow, creating a small pile in the middle of the room. He reaches behind his head and grabs the neck of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head then, tosses it toward the pile.

I take a few seconds to admire his body before he climbs into my bath. It's a body I've been looking at for a long time, save a few years. He might have gained a few pounds, but his form and physique is beautiful. Broad, strong shoulders, arms so thick and bulky that he makes a hug an erotic experience. Without even trying, his chest is so manly; a light dusting of hair, a pair of well formed pecs, and a wide rib cage that narrows to a slightly growing waist and, we both agree, his best feature.

I'm smiling at the memory of the first time I really saw him, hard and erect, red at the tip, yearning for something, anything warm. He seemed big for his spindly frame and slightly embarrassed about it but I had no complaints. And still don't. Experimenting with him was always fun, since he was hypersensitive and liked everything I tried. He never had a problem getting to orgasm. And he never had a problem returning the favor.

No wonder he was always so popular with women.

Most of his body is submerged in pink bubbles and murky, bath bead tainted water but he doesn't seem to mind. He stretches his legs out, resting his feet on either side of my hips. He leans his head back on the edge of the tub.

"You missed a great flick."

"No, I didn't."