Thursday 31st July

"The closing arguments are due next Tuesday, still plenty of time to work on them," Tara assures me, as she briefs me on all the cases she took over from me so far.

It's early afternoon and my living room might easily pass as a house branch of FA&A. We were actually supposed to meet there, but the thought of sitting on the wrong side of my desk made me change my mind during the morning and switch the location to my apartment instead.

"What's your feeling?" I ask her.

"Judge Abernathy is unpredictable," she shrugs, "but he seems to hate that prosecutor with a passion. So, I don't believe we have any reason to worry."

I chuckle at the idea of the entertaining skits I'm quite certainly missing out on in court nowadays. "Yeah, Brody is not exactly his favorite, but don't lower your guard, he's slimy and one of the best ASAs I know, he can still do harm," I warn her from the heights of my innumerable face-offs with Matan.

"I won't," Tara takes in my advice with a firm nod.

"Okay. Next?" My question moves the meeting on to a new topic, if there are any still left.

"Next, you might be pleased to know that I acquired my first real client here," she tosses, almost with nonchalance, as she opens a thin folder in front of her and hands me the copy of a signed contract.

"What?" I'm not sure I want Tara to bring in new clients. It makes me a bit uncomfortable, though at the same time it's good for the firm, so I simply put any reservation aside, smile and give her all my attention as she shares with me all the details about this surrogate parenting agency in the outskirts of Chicago. Given her past experience, it's not hard for me to see how that's something to sink her teeth into.

"Excellent. Congratulations, then," I offer, sincerely, and she thanks me with a gratified smile. "I guess that's all?" I stare at the heap of folders, now completely moved from one side of the table to the other.

"I guess that's all," Tara confirms as she rolls a large rubber band around the heap to secure it, then rests her hands on it and gazes at me. "Anyway, you don't have to pretend to be enthusiastic with me. I've been there, too. I know what it means to stay away from court, it's like a second home, after all. Just try to keep your mind busy."

Just try to keep your mind busy. More than I already do? I shake my head and reassure her with a mild laugh. "Oh, don't worry about that, there's so much going on that my mind is busy 24/7." A couple of resolute kicks tell me that the baby is tired of me sitting here. I help myself up and Tara stands up as well, probably reading it as a sign that our meeting is over? Though, that wasn't really my intention, as I would happily do with some company, but I suppose that she has some work to do, so I don't really try to detain her.

"On a side note, that cute belly grows by the day," she notices as she quietly walks to the front door.

As my gaze alights on the bump, a pleased smile forms on my face. It's right before my eyes every single day for me to watch, that I don't realize how much it can change and grow from one week to the next. And most of the times, my mind is more focused on trying to picture its little tenant. "By the end of November I'll need a crane to lift me," I observe, poking some genuine fun at myself.

"Isn't that one of the reasons why we raise kids? So when they grow up they can support us in the moment of need?" she jokes. "How are they doing, by the way?"

Her question reminds me of the phone call I had only a few hours ago with Zach. "My son called this morning to tell me he'll be back next Sunday and stay for a couple of weeks."

"Good. You must be excited," she says enthusiastically.

"I wouldn't say good, since I stuck all the baby stuff in his room," I confess, with a pinch of guilt in my voice, "and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be impressed with having to sleep on the couch, but, yes, I'm excited."

"Are you bracing yourself for the months of dirty laundry he's gonna take back with him as a souvenir?"

The image is cringe-worthy, still it brings to my lips a smile that tastes of the old days. "I don't remember being like that," I observe, my brows knitted in bafflement.

"We probably were, too. We've just conveniently decided to forget it."

If it were that easy, there are a few things I'd more than happily forget. "I could do with some of that selective amnesia right now," I hint with a sigh.

"Worries?"

"More like struggles," I point out, then pause and rest pensively against the wall. I know that my mother doesn't expect any swift and positive answer from me, but at some point I will have to make a decision about that damn house. "If you had to disappoint one person between your mother and your future husband, who would you pick?" My playful tone makes it obvious that I'm not searching for a real answer, but I'm only in need to share my doubts with someone.

Tara's reaction is one of confusion at first, then she chuckles and asks me, "Is this some who-would-you-throw-from-the-tower game or a real request for personal advice?"

I shake my head and burst into a loud laughter, meeting the baby's strong protests. "Never mind," I say, still in between fits of laughter.

Tara chuckles, definitely amused. "Gotta go now, but it was a nice meeting."

As she turns to leave, I move to open the door for her. "It was. Let me know if you need anything," I offer, perfectly aware that she doesn't need any help.

She nods, then stops halfway through the door. "By the way," she says, pointing her index finger at me, "I think I'd throw the husband."

"What?" I laugh softly, but I have no idea of what I'm supposed to do with this advice.

"Men come and go, moms stay forever," she states firmly, then she must catch the astonished look on my face. "But maybe, this wasn't the most appropriate thing to say, given the circumstances, soooo… just… forget it."

/ / /

Sitting on the couch, I've been staring at the leaflet for a good half hour, under the curious gaze of Grace; walking back and forth as she gets ready to leave, her subtle glances in my direction are not as discreet as she thinks, though she doesn't utter a single word. I think I've learned every word and characteristic of the house by heart and I don't know what's holding me back; the fear that it might be the right one? Or that it might be the wrong one? Or the fact that whatever I decide, someone might end up offended? I know there's no need to rush into a decision – we all have a roof over our head, after all – but it's a loose end that will keep haunting me if I don't act.

"Do you plan to call or you will just keep staring at it for the rest of the day?" Grace pokes fun at me, then joins me on the couch. I pretend I don't notice that the layer of eye-shadow on her lids is way too thick for my tastes, though the color is at least delicate and brings out her eyes.

"Hey, don't put pressure on me!" I admonish her, with a tone that fails to remain serious.

A single beep coming from her phone interrupts our little debate. Before I even have the chance to peep at her screen, Grace has already jumped up from the couch and grabbed her clutch bag.

"I gotta go," she screams as she rushes to the door. Then, she has a change of heart as she probably realizes she didn't even say goodbye and comes back for a kiss on the fly before leaving again.

"What?" I'm left dumbfounded. "Hey!… What happened to buzzing the intercom?" Where did manners go? That guy has just managed to lose one point in my boyfriend's merit ranking.

"It's prehistoric."

"Prehistoric is gonna be your permission to go out with him…" I yell, but she's already out the door.

When the apartment falls silent, I stare down at my belly. "Once you're out of here, we need to have a long talk about this, because it's never too soon…" But my warning is received with a happy dance. "Never mind," I chuckle.

Back to my peace, I take the phone and finally make up my mind about that call. I make an appointment for Saturday, to make sure Will is free from any work engagement, then text him right after to confirm the time. I can't tell for sure, but it's safe to assume that the news made him happy.

With the weight off my chest and nothing left to do for the day, I only need to find a way to keep myself busy for a few hours. I already know Will won't make it home until late, but there's that saying… If Mohammed will not go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed, and better if with a quick dinner. I'm about to call his secretary to make sure he has at least a half hour for me, but then I rethink my decision and call Diane instead, counting – or better, hoping – on a bit of teamwork. With the certainty of enough undisturbed time, I quickly ponder my food options; I'm not in the mood for pizza and I unwillingly have to rule out the raw fish of the Japanese for obvious reasons, so I head straight for the Chinese on West Illinois, for I know it's Will's favorite.

When roughly one hour later I announce my presence at his office's door with one soft knock on the jamb, the plain surprise etched on his face tells me that Diane was excellent at not slipping anything. And judging by his look, he's definitely in need for some distraction. "A little birdie told me you might do with a break and some good company," I state, lifting the bag enough for him to see the familiar pictographs.

With a bright grin, he stands up and walks towards me, casting a furtive glance in Diane's office direction. "I need to remember to thank that little birdie later… Chinese, uh?" he observes, showing his approval with a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Who knows what you might find in the fortune's cookie?" I joke.

I watch as he quickly frees up the small table and set the necessary items for two, then I help him take out the selection I picked for him and we can finally enjoy our impromptu dinner. We should do this more often, I say to myself.

He inhales deeply the spicy smell and alludes, "I might get used to this."

"Don't count on it," I lightly admonish him with a grin.