ALLISON FRANKLIN
"Knock, knock," Chloe raps on my open office door. "You busy?"
"No, come on in," I shut my laptop regarding an email thread with a new client. "What's up?"
She gives me a sort of timid smile as if she's afraid to ask me something. "How's it going?"
I release a deep sigh and gently press my fingertips to my temples, resting my elbows on my desk. "I'm fucking exhausted."
"Lots of work? Or the court stuff? Weren't you supposed to have your meeting with the social worker?"
"No, that was yesterday," I sit back in my chair.
Her blue eyes light up. "How'd it go?"
I don't return her enthusiasm or her hopefulness. "It could have gone better."
"Why do you say that?"
My eyes travel along my desk as I recall the events in my mind. It's not that the visit went badly, but Jane hasn't been herself for a while and so she wasn't having it when I tried to sit down and play with her, which is something I've been trying to do for at least one hour every single day when I get home from work. I meant it when I said I just wanted my daughter; that wasn't all for show, and that means I need to pay more attention to her. That's what I'm doing.
"Jane's, like...I don't even want to say depressed because I don't know if it's possible for four-year-olds to be depressed, but...I also don't know what else to call it."
Chloe makes a face. "Four-year-olds can't get depressed, hon. They don't know what depression is."
"Okay, well what would you call it if she doesn't smile or laugh anymore, and if she has no interest in going to the park or the playground?" I counter. "I've asked her if she wants to get ice cream six times in the last month and she just shrugs every single time. That's not normal, Chlo."
"Well, kids are weird," she brushes it off. "It's probably just a phase or something."
"I don't know," I rest my head back on my leather rolling chair. "And I've gone through two nannies already because my mom doesn't want to babysit anymore. I swear, Jane is trying to scare them all away."
"Well, I have good news for you," she changes the subject, which is probably for the best. I could go on about this shitty situation for days. "Do you remember that client I had in here last week? The super hot guy with the shoulders? Ex-baseball player for the Cubs?"
I laugh at her vague descriptions. "No, I don't remember the super hot guy with the shoulders. Why?"
"Because he saw you in the office and he fell in love with you, babe," she smirks. "He literally cut me off mid-sentence and asked me who you were and if you were single, and he was watching you the whole time I was trying to talk to him about different stone options for his kitchen. He's renovating a place in Greenwich."
Before I can even tell her whether or not I'm interested, she's already pulling her phone out to show me pictures of him on his Instagram. A lot of the photos are of him and his friends, but I'm particularly drawn to the one with him holding a little girl with the caption: World's best uncle.
"He's handsome," I agree. "I just don't know if now is the right time for me to be getting into anything with anyone, though. First Brad, then Harry, now this custody thing. I just don't-"
"Okay, but I feel like what you really need is not an asshole," she corrects me. "That was your mistake the first two times."
My instinct is to defend Harry and ask her not to call him that, but then I remember what he said to me during our last one-on-one conversation, and what he said about me on the stand. My God, was I tempted to break the unspoken promise I made to Lana when she gave me that proposition. If my custody of Jane was on the line, I would have, but he doesn't even want to take Jane away from me completely the way I'm trying to do with him. That's why, as much as I do not want to admit it out loud, Harry is not an asshole.
