At the prison, she had to wait in the concrete room for a while before a guard brought Amelia in—evidently there was a problem with the inmate count. She was restless, as usual, but there was an optimism Genevieve had never noticed before in Amelia’s eyes.

  “Well? Find any good ones?”

  “God, Amelia, you should have met the first two. Total train wrecks. I wish you had seen them.”

  “Don’t worry—I hear plenty of crazy shit in here. Don’t need to leave these walls to meet crackpots.”

  “Ah, I’m sure that’s true. Well, anyway, the last doctor I met with—I think he’ll work for us. My team’s looking into his background more. We want to make sure he’s squeaky clean so the other side can’t disqualify him for something he said to his neighbor when he was in third grade or something.”

  “Good. What’s next, then?”

  “Well, I’ll be back in two weeks to depose some of the prison administrators. And I’ll have my people coordinate things so that you can be present for those, if you want to be.”

  “Dunno about that. Probably best that I don’t go, right? I don’t want any retaliation.”

  “Retaliation would be illegal, of course, but you know better than I do what happens here when no one’s looking. Think about what you want, and give my office a call next time you have access to the phone.”

  The guard came and escorted Amelia to the door, and before she exited the room, she turned and gave Genevieve a smile and a thumbs-up sign.

  There was a lot of work left to do on this case, but right now the important thing was that Amelia had hope and knew someone was fighting for her.

  After tipping her driver generously, Genevieve endured airport security and preboarding procedures before settling into her seat and closing her eyes. God, what a long day. She downloaded her e-mails before the plane took off and wrote responses to the time-sensitive ones, settling them up to send after she’d landed.

  With an hour left before landing, she pulled up her Kindle app and opened Margaret Atwood’s latest, happy with what she’d accomplished that day and equally happy to find a way to escape it all.

  Chapter 22

  “I know my gym’s not as fancy as yours, but it gets the job done,” Diane said, leading Victoria down the stairs toward two side-by-side basketball courts, which were empty except for the nets strung across them. Diane grabbed a couple of racquets and a shuttlecock and handed one to Victoria. “I was surprised you called. Don’t you usually play badminton with Sonya and Tara?”

  “Yeah, in their backyard. Too much snow now.” Victoria headed to the far side of the court while Diane gave her a knowing look. “What?”

  “Have you seen them since…”

  “No,” Victoria said quickly. “Do you want to serve first?”

  Diane looked at the shuttlecock in her hand and tried bouncing it on her racquet a few times. It fell to the ground on the third bounce. “I haven’t played badminton since gym class. Why don’t you serve first?”

  Victoria’s serve wasn’t particularly impressive, but Diane returned it into the net anyway.

  “How long are you going to avoid your friends?” Diane asked, as Tori served again. Diane managed a passable return, before Victoria hit it out of her reach.

  “I’m not avoiding anyone. I just figure… Bethany’s her best friend, and Tara’s Bethany’s sister, and Sonya’s Tara’s wife… They’re all more her friends than mine.”

  After a sharper serve from Victoria, they rallied back and forth a couple of times before Victoria’s shot hit the net.

  “Ooh, my serve!” Diane scooped up the shuttlecock and headed to the service line. “So, you haven’t heard from any of them since the breakup?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Victoria bested her with a drop shot and set up to serve. “Sonya and Tara are having a dinner party next week. Evidently, they’ve invited a lot of lesbians. And Bethany.” Her serve went straight to Diane, who returned it to the opposite corner where Victoria couldn’t reach it.

  “Are you going?” Diane’s serve was a bit of a floater, and they had a lengthy rally before she hit a shot wide and Victoria collected the shuttlecock to serve again.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “I’ve heard of fag hags and lesbros… What do you call a straight woman who hangs out with a bunch of lesbians?”

  That got Victoria laughing so hard that her serve didn’t even make it to the net. “I guess you call her ‘Bethany,’” she said, tossing the shuttlecock to Diane to serve.

  “Maybe we can get that added to the Urban Dictionary. She’d be so proud.”

  She served an ace, which was probably because Victoria was wondering if she could legitimately find a way to contact the Urban Dictionary and get Bethany’s name in there. “So seriously, Tor, how are you holding up, with this breakup and all?”

  “Hell if I know,” Victoria said as she won another point.

  “God, how are you so good at this? How often do you play with them?”

  “Twice, ever. I’m very inconsistent.” Victoria served again.

  “I have a couple of single colleagues I can introduce you to. They’re not as famous as Genevieve, but maybe that’s a good thing.”

  After their longest rally yet, Victoria won the point and reclaimed the serve. “I’m definitely not ready for that yet. Honestly, if I couldn’t make something work with Genevieve, I doubt my chances with anyone else.”

  “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. I adore Genevieve, but she’s got a lot of pride. And she thinks she’s low maintenance, and I just want to tell her, ‘Au contraire mon frère.’”

  “Pretty sure she’d tell you your French needs work.”

  “Pretty sure I’d laugh and tell her I don’t really care.”

  Victoria served, lost, and grabbed a drink of water. “I wish I could tell her I don’t really care,” she said, a little wistfully. “Instead, I just keep making the same mistakes over and over again. I… It was a mistake to make Genevieve step away from her case when it got appealed to the Supreme Court.”

  Diane’s serve sailed past Victoria, who stood there flatfooted. She trudged after the shuttlecock and tossed it back to Diane.

  “It was? Why?” Diane knit her eye brows. “Can you even imagine the media frenzy you’d face if you heard her argue a case? You’d spend more time defending your choice than actually working on the case.”

  “That’s true. But I would have been defending more than the case… I think, in Genevieve’s eyes, I would have been defending our relationship.”

  Victoria pretty much stood there and watched while Diane won a point.

  “Okay, how so?” Diane asked, then lobbed another serve at her.

  “I think…in her mind it was another example of me valuing my career over her, which is what I did in law school. And I… I don’t put her first. She’s right about that. We have—had—this relationship where we spent time together if it was convenient, but we didn’t…make room for each other. We didn’t do sweeping romantic gestures. We never once got each other flowers.”

  “You two, man. I don’t know about you two.” Diane won another point, and Victoria pretty much gave up on recovering her earlier winning streak.

  “You and me both. Regardless, I don’t think I’m ready to be in the same room as her. I don’t think I’ll go to the party. It would just feel so strange—and so awful—to be near her and not be with her. I don’t know how to do that. I guess…I still don’t believe it.”

  She lost the next two points. Or maybe three. She stopped keeping track.

  “Victoria, you are a fighter, and you’ve always been one. Either you want Genevieve back, in which case you should go to this dinner party and make her remember how amazing you are, or you want to get over her, in which case you should go to this party and, you know, confront your pain so you can move on. Hiding from her—and, you know, yourself—won’t help you.”

  Victoria gave her an uneasy look.

  “So, which one is it?” Diane asked her. “Fight to get her back, or fight to get over her?”

  Victoria picked up the shuttlecock, which had fallen at her feet.

  “Because, honestly, Tori, you’ve lost the badminton fight.”

  Victoria smiled. “True. Very true. Okay, um…” She fiddled with the shuttlecock. “How about I go to the party, and between now and then I decide which one I want to fight for?”

  “Good. I approve. Should we maybe do something besides try to play badminton?”

  Victoria nodded, and they returned their equipment.

  “What else is going on besides Genevieve?” Diane asked as they started up the stairs.

  “I’m advising this high school mock-trial team, and their competitions are coming up. It’s… It’s been really great to have something other than work and Genevieve to think about. Actually, I was wondering if you’d be interested in being a scorer.”

  “You don’t need a lawyer for that?”

  “No, not at all. The person who plays the judge is usually a lawyer, but most of the scorers are laypeople. This year’s case is about a high school student accused of stealing expensive artwork from her boyfriend’s parents’ house.”

  “Ooh, sounds juicy. Count me in—thanks for asking.”

  As they neared the doors, Diane put her arm around Victoria’s shoulders. “Listen, whatever ends up happening with your love life, you can’t blame yourself for this. Genevieve’s the one who walked away.” She stopped walking and looked thoughtful.

  “What?” Victoria asked. “Just say it, whatever it is.”

  “Do you think, on some level, she’s just trying to get even with you for leaving her all those years ago? Like, now you’ve both broken each other’s hearts, so you’re on a level playing field?”

  As the automatic doors opened, a freezing blast of air hit Victoria’s face. “It’s occurred to me. But it felt very uncharitable to even think.”

  “Maybe it’s not a conscious thing,” Diane said, pulling on a pair of gloves.

  Victoria stomped her feet to stay warm against the frigid winter air. “Thanks for playing today.”

  Diane pulled her into a tight hug. “Keep me posted, okay? Love you, Tori,” she said, kissing her on the cheek.

  When she got home, she sent an e-mail to the mock-trial organizers giving them Diane’s name as a potential scorer, only to be told that they already had enough volunteers. The reply also included the date of the competition: the same date as Sonya and Tara’s party.

  Diane was going to give her a hard time for not going, but it was a legit excuse to avoid, well, everything. And maybe, since Diane wasn’t going to be a scorer, she wouldn’t even need to tell her about the scheduling conflict.

  When the night of the mock-trial competition came, Tori’s team put forward their best performance yet, and narrowly lost to their opponent, a school with a lot more funding and a coaching staff of eight. By comparison, her team had three coaches, plus the handful of advising sessions Victoria did for them. But on the plus side, some of the kids on her team won individual awards, and they all hugged her after the competition and said they’d learned a lot. She drove home happy, feeling confident that she’d had a better night than she would have had at the dinner party.

  Chapter 23

  The following Friday, Genevieve headed to The Three Branches to catch up with Penelope and Jamie. She had studiously avoided being alone with Penelope since the night she slept on her couch, but of course, when she walked through the doors of the restaurant, the only other patron in the entire place was Penelope, sitting in the legislative section. They gazed at each other across the restaurant, electricity sparking between them, every ounce of the sexual tension they had failed to relieve the last time they saw each other flooding back. As heat from Penelope’s smoldering look washed over her, Genevieve’s phone buzzed and she glanced down.

  Got pulled into a meeting—probably won’t be able to make it. Sorry! –Jamie.

  She squared her shoulders and strode over to the table, selecting a chair right next to Penelope and draping her coat over the back of it. Their knees bumped as Genevieve pulled her chair in, and despite the warmth that spread across her cheeks, she left her leg resting against Penelope’s.

  “Jamie’s not coming.” Her eyes dropped to Penelope’s lips.

  Surprise flitted across Penelope’s features, before transforming into something that looked a little more suggestive. “Hmm. Whatever shall we do in his absence?”

  “I can think of a few things.” Genevieve’s nerve endings came alive with anticipation. God, she’d missed flirting.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” Penelope said, and the look she gave Genevieve sent warm tingles down her spine.

  “I’ve had a lot going on. Issues in my personal life. Tori and I broke up.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Genevieve looked at Penelope’s lips, which were slightly parted, and leaned closer. “Hmm, I will be.”

  “Are you ladies ready to order?”

  Genevieve leaned back and glared at their waiter, but his gaze was fixed steadily on Penelope. Not that she could blame him; in a navy skirt suit, wearing deep-red lipstick and a blouse so low-cut it was flirting with the edge of professionalism, Penelope was utterly captivating.

  “I’m ready—Genevieve, do you need a minute?”

  She knew exactly what she wanted to devour, and it wasn’t on the menu.

  Willing her heartbeat to slow back down, she shook her head. “Go ahead—I’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”

  “I’ll have the kale salad, but can I have lemon vinaigrette instead of pomegranate? And no onions, please.”

  Both Penelope and the waiter turned to look at her, and she remembered she was supposed to use that time to figure out her order, not watch the way Penelope’s mouth moved when she spoke.

  “What’s your soup today?” she asked to buy time.

  “Carrot curry,” the waiter said.

  “Great—I’ll have that. And a house salad.”

  They both ordered coffee, and Penelope handed over their menus.

  “Where were we?” Genevieve asked, leaning close again.

  Penelope traced her finger down Genevieve’s jaw before outlining her lips. “Hm. I think we were going to get to know each other better.”

  Genevieve turned her head and wrapped her lips gently around Penelope’s finger, watching with satisfaction as Penelope’s eyes fluttered, then closed. When she bit down slightly, Penelope’s eyes flew open, her surprise quickly replaced with a devious smile. Her hand moved to Genevieve’s thigh and began inching upward. Genevieve squirmed, wishing she had chosen a skirt that morning. Penelope squeezed the fabric of her pants, and Genevieve’s self-control teetered on the edge. Fuck it. She slid her hand behind Penelope’s neck and pulled their mouths closer. Their lips had barely grazed each other when someone cleared his throat, and Genevieve looked up again, this time ready to tell the waiter exactly what she thought of his timing.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Jamie said, rocking on his feet a little and studiously avoiding eye contact with either of them.

  Genevieve took a deep breath, pushing away her desire. “Sorry, Jamie. Please, have a seat.”

  She stole a look at Penelope, who looked as flustered as she did. When their eyes met, Genevieve wanted to skip the rest of lunch and invite Penelope back to her place. She allowed herself to sink into that fantasy for a brief moment, while Jamie took off his coat and got settled. As Jamie flagged down the waiter, Genevieve resolved not to look at Penelope until she had her imagination under control.

  “Well, I’d ask what I missed, but…” Jamie laughed. “I’d really rather not know.”

  “What was this meeting you got pulled into?” Genevieve asked, hoping he’d launch into some lengthy story that would give her time to calm down.

  “The president of our board of directors just won a special election for the Colorado state legislature, and he’s stepping down from the board. We needed to strategize how to replace him, and whether we need to appoint an interim president until we’re able to hold elections.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Penelope said politely.

  “Well, it’s great for the cause in Colorado politics, but yeah, it’s too bad for us,” Jamie said.

  They took turns looking at each other, and Genevieve couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The silence was growing oppressive when the waiter actually demonstrated a good sense of timing for once and approached Jamie.

  While Jamie ordered, Genevieve risked looking at Penelope. Big mistake. Penelope looked ready to devour her whole, and there was no way in hell Genevieve was going back to the office after this lunch.

  “Genevieve, how was your trip to Michigan?”

  Damn, she’d forgotten that her team for Amelia’s case was meeting that afternoon to discuss the expert witness—a meeting she herself had scheduled and that she couldn’t in good conscience postpone.

  “Uh, good. It was good. Actually, can I ask your opinion about this potential expert witness?”

  She explained her concerns about having Dr. Carson testify, and for most of their lunch they debated the pros and cons of using a cosmetic surgeon

  “Jamie, what’s new at HRC?” Penelope asked.

  “Well, I wanted to run something by you two, actually. It’s been a few years since anyone in Congress has introduced a ban on workplace discrimination for LGBTQ employees. I think it might be time to try again, and if we work together, maybe we’ll stand a better chance of getting something passed.”

  “That’s what I love about you, Jamie,” Genevieve said. “You’re optimistic to the point of foolishness. There’s no way in hell this Congress passes a non-discrimination bill this year. Maybe after the next election, if Democrats can regain control of the House. But the Senate isn’t budging.”