Life, Interrupted

"…so one minute, I'm persuading Barba that it's a good case, and what does this girl do, the week before court? She gets arrested for another DUI." She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice. "Not the best idea."

Brian shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, the timing's probably not a coincidence. You're talking about a rape victim here, 21 years old. Can you blame her?"

"I know, I know, it's hard on her, it always is." She took a sip of her wine. "But she's not exactly making it easier for herself. The defense will have a field day with that, after she only reported the rape when she got picked up by the police the first time. They'll make her out to be an alcoholic who didn't know what she was talking about the first time, they'll say she used it as an excuse to get out of the first DUI. Which makes no sense, you know, in all those years, I've never seen that happening."

He shrugged. "That's their job, isn't it. That's what they always say."

"Well, it shouldn't be their job to slander the victim. Juries are so gullible. If they saw the pictures of the bruises, it could go differently, but I bet he'll get that thrown out as prejudicial, and if the judge doesn't go for that, they'll just argue 'rough sex' again, like any woman just loves getting injured. And I just don't know if she's strong enough for all that, facing that in court. I've tried talking to her and told her to get professional help, but…" She trailed off, noticing that Brian's eyes had glazed over as he was staring ahead blankly. She had been rambling again, disclosing too many details, and he clearly wasn't listening. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like hearing about all this stuff."

"No, it's just…yeah, okay, I don't like hearing about it."

It bothered her that she always felt like she had to censor herself around him, that she couldn't talk to him about what was going on. If she did, he always turned quiet and tight-lipped, until he eventually disengaged from the conversation completely. "It's just what's been on my mind."

"I know, but it's not like you can do anything about any of this."

She was going to object, but there was really nothing to object to. He was right. She couldn't, and that was precisely what was bothering her. "I guess not." She smoothed out her napkin on the table.

"And I sure as hell can't" he said abrasively.

She sighed. Sometimes, he was being such a typical guy. "I'm not telling you about this because I expect you to fix it, or to come up with a solution."

"Why are you telling me about it?"

"Because…we're sharing things about our day." Their main subject over dinner had been Noah, as usual, before eventually, inevitably, it had somehow come to this. "That's what people do."

He lowered his voice. "Oh yeah, regular people talk about rapists and child molesters over dinner all the time? Do we really have to do that?"

'All the time' was an overstatement, but she decided to let it slide. She really had been dumping a lot on him. "No, we don't. You could talk to me about your work, you know" she offered, leaning forward slightly.

"I don't want to talk about my work" he brushed her off yet again.

"Well, then…" She turned her palms upward. He was making this difficult. "What do you want to talk about?"

He scoffed, crossing his arms and increasing the distance between them. "We always do this."

"Do what?" She didn't understand where this sudden irritation was coming from. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to argue, not here" he backtracked, gesturing at their busy surroundings. "I just thought maybe we could leave work aside and have a nice evening, have some 40 Dollar steak, sit and talk about us…"

For the first time in minutes, she looked around, taking note of the nicely set tables, the cloth napkins in the shape of fans, the long, white candle on the table between them, the expensive bottle of wine they were sharing. This wasn't one of their regular places, neither was it the sort of fun place Brian loved – at most, it was the kind of place he chose when he was trying to impress someone and get laid on an early date. They had been trying to change it up a little, as far as you could change it up on your fourth (or fifth?) official date since they had decided to give this another try. She had been enjoying the slow pace, the ease of "just dating", which was barely compatible with her already busy lifestyle. Arguing on the fourth date, that had to be some kind of record. They were screwing this up at a rapid speed.

"I'm sorry." She reached across the table, putting her hand on his arm. "I'll try to switch it off."

He threw a doubtful glance her way, but softened quickly, taking her hand from his arm and giving her fingers a squeeze before letting go. "All right."

"This is a nice restaurant" she verbalized her thoughts. It was weird, but sometimes, she forgot to say the simplest things that went through her head, expecting him to just know how she felt about something.

"It should be. I read about it in the New Yorker. 'Get there while it's still affordable.'"

"You read the New Yorker?" she asked, amused. She could not picture him sitting around, flipping through the colourful pages just to find a steak house.

"The things you do for love…" Hearing his own words, he quickly averted his gaze, developing a sudden interest in the dessert that was being served to the group at the next table.

She smirked, enjoying his discomfort a little too much, but deciding to give him a way out. "Love of meat is a serious business."

He grinned, deciding to take this verbal game a little further. "Aw, Liv, I wouldn't objectify you like that."

She kicked him lightly under the table, stifling a laugh. "You better not. Overconfidence kills."

"I'll disregard that veiled threat." He took a sip of his wine in a deliberately poised manner.

"Not so veiled, I'd say." She sensed an excited rush in the muscles of her face, an inability to stop smiling that she hadn't felt around him in a long time. It was like a brief escape to the early days, the easy, playful days before everything in their lives had fallen apart and become a battlefield. When she looked at him now, his cheeky grin in the low light, the sparkle in his hazel eyes, then yes, she had to admit, he didn't look half bad. Most of all, he smelled so, so good, and she could still feel the sensory memory of his brief touch on her fingers. Desire reared its head again, peeking out from where it had been buried under work, worries and dirty diapers. She had felt it briefly before, on their last date, when that goodnight kiss had turned into a special extended version that wasn't quite PG anymore. She had stopped it in time, said her goodbyes and gone to bed unable to sleep, replaying it in her mind.

She wasn't ready for more, not right now, when she wanted things to be easy and not yet complicated by rushed intimacy and choices. She didn't want to get used to him being around too quickly. Her life with Noah was deliberately kept separate from these occasional evenings with Brian, and at the moment, she wasn't quite sure how the two could ever fit together. They had been meeting up in public places, sitting and talking about nothing and anything, quickly reaching their old level of familiarity again. In a way, they had been doing the exact opposite of how they had started their initially casual relationship last time. Keeping things light and flirty was working out well so far, so remaining at this level seemed sensible. Or was it? At this very moment, the thought of taking him home with her wasn't unappealing –being held again, feeling close to him, getting some release- but things that looked good by night tended to be different by day. Sex had never been an issue for her, and definitely not with him, but there was no way of going back to it now, going back to it in their own bed now, without it meaning something. While she might want him right now, and might let herself fall in the dark, she wasn't up for cuddling afterwards and spending the night together, or ready to be woken up by Noah at 5am with Brian still there, needing to have a big "what does this mean" morning after talk while she was trying to get a baby and herself ready. The thought alone was a mood killer.

"Hey, earth to Liv? What's up?"

"Nothing." She made herself smile again. God, he was trying so hard. She could at least make an effort to be fully present. "Just wondering what you wanted to talk about."

"Oh, nothing in particular." That line usually wasn't a good sign. It was classic mixed message Brian. "But this has been going pretty well, hasn't it? All things considered."

"Yeah, it has."

"Cool. Just checking." The fact that he needed to check was a reminder of the uncertainty that remained between them and the way that their break-up had been a long time coming, but never discussed until that one evening, when it had happened so quickly, so harmoniously, that it had been easy to miss in a blink. All the same, she wasn't ready to erase it as if it hadn't happened. There was still that ice block to chip away at.

"I like that we're taking things slow" she said, deciding to word it in a positive manner rather than as an "I'm not ready to go faster".

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "Always have."

"Yeah, but it's different now." Priorities had shifted. Life had happened. Time had happened, and in some ways, its erosive effect was a good thing. Even Brian struck her as less unsettled, more open than before, or was that because they didn't see each other so much now? "It's less-" She was interrupted mid-thought by her phone ringing. Wow, impressively bad timing, especially if it was work. Brian couldn't refrain from groaning as she began rummaging through her small purse. "Sorry."

"Hey, I'm used to it." He took a large sip of his water. "Guess you'll be leaving in two minutes."