Well, now that Lacey's somewhat settled, it's time to check in on our Adam. In this chapter, he wrestles to reconcile his no-nonsense lawyer persona with his romantic sensibilities, battling loneliness in rooms, buildings, streets full of people. How ever does he deal with it in a city like NYC? Well, a couple of ideas DO come to his mind, especially by the end of the chapter…

How many of you ladies would like to be Mr. Banks' legal assistant? Put that in your imagination and smoke it!

I don't really have a playlist song for this period in time for Adam, so I am instead going to point out that the number one song in the US during this period was "S " by Rhianna….

Trigger Warning for a very brief mention of suicide (not a main character).

Spring 2011

Adam tried not to wear a smug, triumphant smile as he and Ms. Grigsby filed out of the courtroom behind the defense, the case against her husband at long last won.

"Please at least let me take you to dinner," the woman all but pleaded with him as they paused outside the courthouse doors when they emerged from the stuffy building to be met by the bright sunshine of a beautiful day. "It's the least I can do for you having fought so hard for two years to win this case for me."

"I really shouldn't, Ms. Grigsby." Adam hoped his client wouldn't take offense to his refusal. "It isn't ethical, and I try to keep my relationships with all my clients strictly professional. But please know that I'm truly honored by the request. Us having come away with a victory today is all the thanks I need." And as campy as the phrase sounded, he really did mean it. He was happy to see Violet Grigsby finally be awarded the justice she deserved in the emotional abuse case against her husband. It was a fight he was sure in the beginning he'd never win, but his hard work had paid off.

He said his goodbyes to the tough, adversity-hardened woman on the courthouse steps and watched as she walked away. It was always an odd feeling, saying goodbye to a long-term client. You spent months and even years working with them and hearing their personal stories before going to battle for them in a courtroom, only for it all to end after their case was won–or lost. It was a relationship that felt very personal, yet one had to remind themselves constantly that it wasn't. Legal representation was a service people paid for, and even though rapport must be established, it wasn't the same as friendship.

So Adam finally turned to walk away, wondering what Ms. Grigsby's life would be like now and inwardly wishing her the best before turning his thoughts elsewhere. His next focus would need to be the Hartman vs. Hartman case, yet another custody battle. Those were usually a lot more tiresome than they were rewarding because it amazed Adam how petty two people could be when fighting over children. It was especially difficult to watch when it seemed guardianship of kids was seen as nothing more than a pissing contest between two adults who just wanted to make each other pay for hurt feelings. But it was his job.

Adam had been doing this long enough by now to realize he was disillusioned when he turned to family law at the beginning of his career with the idea that everyone was noble at heart, and that he could win any victory for the "good guys" in court if he worked hard enough. Things were never that cut and dry, and he had to accept that the judge's ruling wasn't fair a hundred percent of the time. But he was slowly learning to let go of some of his expectations, and have better boundaries when it came to getting overly attached to and involved in achieving a perfect outcome. He came to see that the only thing he could do was be as objective as he could be, not trust that one person's side of the story was always accurate, and cut everyone, including judges, a break because they were all human. There was no way everybody could be perfectly impartial. In addition, the people who deserved for things to go their way sometimes didn't receive any justice at all. This was why he and his mom nearly got into an argument over the existence of karma the last time he visited home.

As he was thinking over these things, he nearly didn't hear the woman's voice calling his name as he made his way down the busy sidewalk toward the subway.

"Mr. Banks?"

He turned, his eyes scanning the crowd of people passing him before they landed upon a young Hispanic woman who was making her way briskly toward him. He stepped to the side out of the way of the horde of people trying to pass, as was the courteous thing to do in New York when stopping on a sidewalk. "Yes?"

"Oh, Mr. Banks, so glad I catch you," she spoke in heavily accented, broken English as she caught up to him. Who was this woman, and how did she know his name? Had she been waiting outside the courthouse for him all this time? "I want to speak you about my husband Vitorino."

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see that the woman had with her two young children, chasing each other and giggling right in the way of the crowd that was trying to pass. Why didn't people watch their kids? He felt annoyed, but tried to keep it out of his voice as he pressed her. "All right, what might I do for you?"

"He need rep-repre…sent. I'm housekeeper for Mrs. Amanda Martin. You were her lawyer last year when her rich husband try take her children?" A disgusted expression crossed the woman's face before she continued. "You help her."

Adam knew he couldn't comment on whether or not Ms. Martin had been a client, so he simply watched the woman, hoping his face betrayed nothing.

"She say I need to talk to you about him. There was break-in down a street for mile from our home, and police saw my husband running. He run every evening after work. He is a locksmith," she continued in her broken English. "He not ever do wrong things. But because we who we are, he was arrested and charge with crime. We need a good lawyer to help him, because I not be able to raise the niños alone if he go to jail. Please, help us."

Something about the raw, fearful expression on the woman's face touched Adam's heart, but he replied with the truth. "I'm sorry, I'm not a criminal defense lawyer. I only take family law cases. But I can provide you with the names of–"

"No, you not understand," the pitch of the woman's voice rose a bit in alarm. "We not have money to pay. We thought since you know Mrs. Martin, you could do a… a…" she seemed to search for the word. "Per bone?"

She likely heard of this concept from Mrs. Martin. "Pro bono?" Adam supplied.

"Yes. Other lawyer, they charge too much."

"Have you considered the public defender's office?" He decided this may be the best course of action for her, as much as he hated referring anyone to a public defender's office. He and his colleagues admittedly considered that type of law low-brow and desperate. And he didn't even want to get started on how many cases they lost vs. won. But he did not focus on defending criminals, so there wasn't much else he could do.

The woman's face darkened, as she apparently shared his sentiment. "They not…" she seemed to be struggling for the right words. "...work hard. They not really want to help. My brother, he had public defender, and it…" she shook her head, then looked back at Adam, eyes pleading. "Please. We have all these…" The woman gestured around her at the children. "I need my husband."

"I understand," Adam finally replied to her in Spanish, realizing what a chore it was for her to communicate in English. "But I do not practice that type of law."

The woman blinked before her eyes flooded with relief when she heard Spanish.

"I am truly sorry," he finished, then gave her a kind smile. He paused to reach into his briefcase where he kept the calling cards of some of the other lawyers in the area he could refer people to. "This one," he pulled out a card and handed it to her, "is a criminal defense attorney. Try to see if he will take your case."

Adam knew this guy and knew for a fact he wouldn't–not for nothing. But he wanted to give the woman hope.

She finally nodded, defeated, pocketing the card. But he suspected she knew the same thing: lawyers right now weren't doing much pro bono work due to the economy, and in all likelihood, the public defender's office was exactly where this case would end up.

After bidding her good day, Adam turned to continue to the subway, a little bothered.

He'd always assumed public defenders mostly ended up with cases where people were guilty. That's how it seemed to go most of the time, anyway. But how often were they given cases where the person was innocent? Did they put up a fight for people at all? All the public defenders he knew were burned out and cynical. That surely couldn't result in justice being won for people who truly needed their help…

But Adam pushed all this to the side as he focused on getting home. He was tired and his joints had been hurting overtime lately. A flair was coming. He was going to have to brace for it. He reached the subway, practically collapsing into one of the seats, and began consciously releasing each and every muscle–wound up tight to protect his aching joints–in hope for relief. In all likelihood, the hot shower was where he'd stay for the rest of the night.

As he rode silently, eyes closed as he rubbed his forehead, he counted the stops leading home. He was in sort of a dreamlike state when he was pulled back to reality by the sound of quiet laughing across from him. He opened his eyes and saw a young couple holding hands, leaning into one another, the man smiling in amusement as the woman talked animatedly, pausing often to nudge him playfully.

When had he last been in sync with another human being like that?

There was no point asking the question.

He watched them, not realizing he was staring until the guy glanced over uneasily. Adam flushed, giving a polite nod as he averted his eyes. But the pain in his heart–one that felt much older and duller than the pain he felt in his body now–remained.

He reached his condo finally and let out a deep breath as he closed the door behind him, sinking down onto the couch and closing his eyes. It was, blessedly, silent. And Adam enjoyed silence. Some people considered him dull and unexciting because he'd rather sit in a coffee shop and read a book or hang out at home watching old movies than go to a party. If only he could explain to them in words they'd understand how quietness enriched his soul. There were other things you could hear, things about your own mind and heart, when you made friends with the silence around you. He could breathe in that space. Not, of course, that he wanted to be on his own all the time or never go out and have fun. Sarah still came over a few times a week and they sometimes went on dates. But after a long, hard day at work, all he usually wanted to do was nestle down in his haven. And there had only been a couple of people in his life so far that he could be just as comfortable with as he was on his own. Adam generally liked people and was friendly enough with most of them, but there were few he had invited into his very heart. This fact provided him plenty of solitude when he wanted it.

He was plenty grateful to still have Sarah. Plus Mendoza, who was now married with a little girl who had him wrapped around his finger, but still came over for a beer at least biweekly to reminisce over the old days and trade news about the Ducks they'd each kept up with. He had also kept up a friendship with Morrigan who was likewise still a bachelor over thirty, but who had not long ago survived a heart-shattering breakup when the woman he'd been with for years rejected his proposal. He'd asked Adam to go with him to take the ring back to the jewelers after he had hung onto it for months, and it was a pitiful sight to see. Morrigan was a big, happy-go-lucky "teddybear" as Sarah called him, but he was sensitive beyond repair.

"Yeah, I know, man," Adam had tried to comfort his friend as he'd sat on his sofa sobbing after the whole awful affair. "Women can really be from the pit of hell, can't they?"

Of course, the comment had just slipped out. He hadn't meant it, not really. It was an awful thing to say, yet it had come out so quickly because…he actually felt that way? Adam was suddenly ashamed.

But in his defense, he had just come back from the home visit where he'd run smack into Lacey, dredging up all the emotional gunk from the sinkhole of his brain. And for some reason, it was taking him forever to get past it, even though the encounter had lasted less than ten seconds. Yet Adam finally managed to do what he'd always done, and bury it again. His friend needed him, and this situation wasn't about him.

Morrigan's heart eventually healed and he had gone on with his life, even if that didn't yet include another woman. But Morrigan was like that. As sensitive as he was, he always managed to let it all go in good time and bounce back to his cheerful optimism. Maybe, Adam thought, it was because the guy knew how to let it all out, cry for as long as he needed to without shame. Instead of cramming it underneath the surface like Adam did, he actually dealt with it, which probably helped him to move on.

Adam knew the way he handled these things wasn't healthy. Maybe that was the reason his emotions flared at the strangest of times. He had gone to his beloved cat cafe one day only to discover Oscar had been adopted. He felt a sense of loss that nearly swallowed him whole, and which he didn't understand at all. Going home early, he got in the shower and cried. He'd managed in recent years to build a fortress around his own sensitivity–being a lawyer did that to you– but sometimes he discovered a chink in the wall quite unexpectedly. Running into Lacey had been one, Oscar's adoption had been one, and then there was Morrigan's breakup. He always let himself have a very small moment when bothered by these things, but before he could completely drown in emotion, Adam bottled it up again and just continued on.

As he lay on the couch now, all he could manage to think about was the Hispanic woman's plight. Did he know any of the county's public defenders well enough to put a word in for her? And would it do any good?

Forcing himself up, wincing as he remembered his idea of a hot shower, Adam went over to his briefcase to retrieve his laptop. He opened it, sitting back down, and typed in "public defender statistics." He was hoping for a pick-me-up to give him hope for the woman and her husband. Plus, he was genuinely interested in finding out the truth about his suspicions.

Come to find out, after poring over his research results for hours, public defenders didn't necessarily have any more failures in the courtroom than did the private attorney. And as for their character, he ran across a particularly inspiring article from a retired PD who talked about connecting with his clients on a personal level and how upholding justice for them was principal to him. There apparently even existed firms of public defenders where each one had the option of passing on cases they felt they could not, in good conscience, defend. This was only sometimes, of course, depending on the district they served in. Some PD's had to merely take the cases assigned to them, like it or not.

He also researched the public defenders in the city, of whom someone would likely be appointed to the woman's husband. He recognized a few faces from attorney collaboratives, and eventually convinced himself that the family was in good hands. Hopefully, anyway. But this became another situation he opted to cram deep down into the earth of his brain.

Just then his phone rang, causing him to jump. He saw it was Sarah, and swiped to answer. "Hey."

"Hey, where are you?"

Adam paused, looking at the clock instinctively, then at the wall calendar. Something was scrawled on there, and he got up to see what it was.

Shit.

"Oh." He ran a hand over his face tiredly. Of course. Tonight was Paige and Tim's engagement party. "Oh, man. Sarah, I'm sorry. I don't know how I forgot."

"I don't know how you did either, because you never forget anything," she remarked, thankfully calm about his faux pas. "Well it isn't too late, can you come over?" He could hear talking and laughing in the background. "They're not here yet."

"Uh…"

No, he wanted to say. He was exhausted after the grueling battle in court today. But Paige meant alot to Sarah as a coworker she'd made friends with fresh out of law school, and Adam had committed to going to her engagement dinner. So, he needed to just power up, change clothes, and go do this thing.

"Yeah. I'll be right there. Give me an hour max to get across town." Hopefully it wouldn't take any longer than that to dress and hop the subway. The dinner was to be held at an intimate, upscale restaurant on the Lower East side that Adam had never been to before.

After hanging up with Sarah, Adam rushed to his closet and chose a pair of dark denim jeans and a black button-up shirt. He next paid a quick visit to the bathroom mirror to ensure his hair was still in place before grabbing his wallet, phone and jacket and heading out the door.

As he walked quickly down the sidewalk toward the subway, Adam glanced around him. He liked New York in so many ways, but part of him longed to be away from the madness of the city. Not for the first time, he wondered how inconvenient it might be to live outside New York City proper and commute in for work. He could certainly afford a house and could nearly pay for it outright–his firm had been good to him in the years he'd worked there. As he mindlessly walked toward the 7 Avenue Express station, he allowed himself to consider the idea again, envisioning a spacious Victorian home–or French Country style, or maybe even a Mediterranean style–complete with his own car and a couple of dogs…or a coup

Just as he was nearing the station, his phone rang again. Fully expecting it to be Sarah asking his ETA, he pulled it out of his pocket and prepared to answer it before seeing the name "Candace" flash across his screen. He smiled. There was only one reason Candace's phone would be calling him, and it wouldn't be his sister-in-law wanting to talk.

"Hi Maple," he greeted after putting the phone to his ear, taking the stairs down to the subway two at a time.

"Uncle Adam!" The familiar voice at the other end of the line exclaimed with eardrum-shattering enthusiasm. "It worked! I scored with a wrist-shot at practice! I did what you said and had my blade bent, and I worked on that wrist technique you showed me."

Adam grinned. His niece was typically quiet and reserved. It was nice to hear her be excited about something. "Good! I told you it would work eventually. Just needs practice."

"When are you coming home?" Maple suddenly changed her tone, becoming wistful. "I want to show you."

"I'll come soon. I promise." He methodically went about retrieving a ticket from the machine. "Just have alot to do right now. Part of being a lawyer, you know?"

"I know," she sighed. "I just wish I could talk to you more. Daddy's always busy and Mom spends all her time taking care of Juniper."

The fact was, his niece was quite a bit like him. So much, in fact, that Travis had made an awkward joke a time or so about Adam being her actual father.

"Travis, that's really rude. I mean, think about how Candace would feel if you said something like that around her," he'd protested.

"That's why I'm not saying it to her, I'm saying it to you. Oh lighten up, bro! She can't help it that she's got your eyes," Travis had chuckled.

"They're mom's eyes. That's why she's got them, not because of me," Adam had retorted.

But it was, without a doubt, Maple's shy, serious personality that matched his the very most, and gave them a connection. She'd followed him around since she was a very little girl, and not much had changed now that she was eight.

"Would you like to read another book together? Then call me and we'll talk about it?" Adam quickly headed for the turnstyle, thankful for his ability to multitask efficiently. He needed to meet Sarah as soon as possible, but also didn't want to cut Maple short.

"Let's read The Phantom Tollbooth again," she replied eagerly.

Adam felt like groaning. That's what he was afraid of. They'd read it three times already. He immediately considered fudging a bit and telling her he'd already read it again, then recycle the material he remembered from their last reading–three months ago. But something about that felt wrong. Maybe it was because Maple was the only child of Travis's that seemed to enjoy books. He'd bought some of the younger ones picture books before only to find that they were disinterested, preferring instead to be outside digging in the dirt. He was sure this was because Candace lived most of her life out in the vegetable garden.

He liked his sister-in-law well enough most of the time, but she could be ridiculous. She always tried home remedies first for the kids when they were sick, claiming that most doctors were in league with the pharmaceutical companies and therefore prescribed unnecessary medication. She was anti-vaccine, refused to let her children eat his mom's famous red velvet cake because it contained artificial dye, and let them nurse until they were nearly three–right in front of everybody (though he found breastfeeding to be a beautiful act, he didn't particularly care to see Candace's breast). Then there was the fact that she'd named each one of them after trees, which was just dumb…

But she doted on them, was a very nurturing mother, and was constantly having talks with them about being kind and responsible. He appreciated that about her, and these were always the things his mom brought to his attention any time he made remarks about her little hippie-flavored quirks.

And he adored his nephews and nieces, even if he got to spend little time with them. When he was home, however, apart from always enjoying his chance to hold baby Juniper, the one he spent the most time with was Maple.

Maple also excelled at and was crazy about hockey, something he could certainly identify with.

"All right," he smiled after sighing quietly. "The Phantom Tollbooth it is. But next time, how about we pick something new for you? It's always good to try fresh things."

"Mmm…maaaybe," she answered after consideration. "All right, well I gotta go. Mom says Rowan gets ten minutes of screen time to play some math game."

Math game. Rowan was only five. Who does that to a kid?

"Okay then. I'll start The Phantom Tollbooth tonight. We'll talk this time next week? Unless you want to chat before then." Adam always offered her that invitation.

"Sure. Bye, Uncle Adam," the little girl hung up just as the train was pulling into the station. Perfect timing. Adam pocketed his phone.

It took a half hour, but he made it to the engagement party just after the happy couple did and slid into his seat beside Sarah.

"Hi, You," she flashed a smile just as Adam leaned in to issue her cheek a quick kiss. He and Sarah had rules about being affectionate in public. They had rules about everything. It kept things nice and predictable.

"Sorry," he mumbled to the couples around him who watched as he took his seat. He received forgiving smiles in return.

The dinner was a pleasant affair, even if Adam didn't feel particularly hungry and ended up just ordering soup and a salad. He made pleasant conversation with those sitting around him, happy to learn that most were also lawyers. Rarely had a topic been more fascinating to him than law, so he felt comfortable and in his element.

Finally, Tim stood up, tapping his wine glass with his spoon to summon attention. "It's good of you guys to do this," he spoke up, grinning. "Paige and I have the best friends. I mean the very best. And it's with that in mind that we want to share some words meant to be spoken in front of the people who have supported us the very most." With that, he held his hand out for Paige to stand beside him.

The way in which Paige gazed at her fiance made Adam smile. Sarah chuckled quietly beside him. "So much in love," she whispered.

And they were. Tim spoke a few words of adoration for Paige as she looked on, growing noticeably tearful. The couple's happiness was palpable.

"Tim," Paige's turn came to speak. "I always looked at happy couples before and thought they were just kidding themselves by saying they were in love, and telling people about it. Fact was, it almost made me sick." Everyone laughed. "But then I met you. And all of that doubt, all of my well-formed logic, it just melted away. Because with you, I'm both comfortable and inspired to grow. I'm comfortable enough with you that I can wear my mom jeans and granny panties around the house and not care." This emitted another round of laughter. "And we can be both silly and serious. So now, I find myself on the other side of my doubts, and it's a beautiful place to be." She turned her gaze on Tim again, smiling radiantly. "You're my forever, and it starts now."

Adam was nudged by Sarah. "Stop doing that," she whispered. It was then that he noticed he was fumbling with his fork, tapping the end lightly against the table without realizing he was doing it and making just enough noise for her, at least, to notice. He let go of it, but felt the need to move something else, more than a little restless all of a sudden. Finally there was applause, and he jumped in heartily.

The animated conversations, the neverending wine, and the loud laughter carried on until a little past midnight. That's when Adam finally stood to take his leave, grabbing his coat. "Do you want to come with me?" he inquired of Sarah. Sarah, fiercely independent, had no qualms about making her way across the city alone. But Adam, still from the old guard of chivalry, didn't really like her doing that. He'd learned, however, that in these settings, he should offer his escort to his girlfriend only once. Ninety percent of the time she turned him down, and that was his cue to let her take care of herself. In many ways, he felt Sarah would probably do a better job defending him against muggers.

It was to his great surprise, however, that she agreed to leave the party with him, making the rounds to say goodbye to friends as he did the same to those he'd sat close to. The night air was brisk, causing Adam to zip up his jacket and Sarah to wrap her peacoat tighter around her. They didn't say much as they left, other than to chat about how nice the party was. In the subway, Sarah asked how court had gone that day, and being very careful of their surroundings for confidentiality sake, Adam told her about the case's satisfying end. Then it was time to walk again. Traveling from Lower East to Upper West was quite a hike.

"So, uh," Sarah inquired as she slowed her pace, opting to sit down on a park bench close to where she and Adam would split for the night, heading to their separate condos. "What was with you tonight?"

"Huh?" Adam's brow furrowed. "What do you mean what was with me? I thought we had a nice time."

"We did. But I'm talking about all the fidgeting and fork tapping while Tim and Paige were giving their speeches. Do you not like them or something?" Sarah seemed mildly miffed.

So that's what this was about. She felt he was blowing off her friends.

"No," he answered quickly. "I didn't even realize I was doing it, I was…" Adam shrugged, not at all sure himself what was going on inside him at the engagement dinner. "...For some reason I was just restless, I mean maybe I was bored? Or tired? It's been a pretty long day."

"Well I get that, but they might not. It was just really rude," she huffed. "I guess I'm going to have to explain the whole thing to Paige. I'm sure she must have noticed."

Adam felt his ears turn hot, not with anger toward Sarah, but anger toward himself. He had always been Mr. Manners, never letting his true emotions show when not appropriate, always coiffed and polished in both appearance and behavior, and he knew it. He was an excellent dinner attendee. But tonight? Okay, sure. Something was wrong with him. But he had no idea what, and therefore he had no idea how to defend himself.

"Sarah, no. I'll talk to Paige myself, I don't mean to cause you a problem. Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what was wrong, but it wasn't about Tim or Paige. Or you. Okay?" He came close to her. There were times he wanted to gather Sarah into his arms and just hold her, or kiss her so passionately they would have to come up for air. Only, when he ever tried to do this, the experience fell flat. Not only for him, but seemingly for her, too. But Adam was desperately physical, and suddenly found himself craving…

…A girl from that high-end escort place his coworker used. "Always discreet, always safe," his buddy had whispered to him one morning after parting ways on the street with what had looked like a perfectly respectable woman.

Adam didn't really want sex with her, he just simply wanted someone to hold him against their breast while he slept. He wanted to hear a heartbeat, feel the warmth of someone else's skin in a way he never felt with Sarah. Not just because he knew his feelings for her weren't quite what they were "supposed" to be, but also because there was a certain part of herself Sarah held back from him, too. Their physical intimacy was always adequate, but not filled with searing passion. It felt more like two really good friends doing each other a favor.

You're my forever, and it starts now. Paige's words for Tim echoed in his head for some reason.

"Look," he continued gently, looking into Sarah's eyes sincerely. "I think I started to just get a little wrapped up in something weird again. You know, like, the thing we talk about, how love happens to some people some of the time, but generally, it's just this big overblown ideal?"

Sarah nodded.

"Hearing them talk just had me thinking sideways again, about all that 'mushy stuff', like we called it in middle school," he issued forth a lighthearted chuckle, taking her hands. "And I was just uncomfortable with it. That's all it was. I'll be careful for making it that obvious in the future, how's that?"

"All right, well…I'm going to hold you to it," Sarah flashed a crooked smile that always made her look so pretty.

Adam reached out and tugged a little on the corner of her jacket to bring her along with him. "Come to my place tonight?" he implored tenderly.

Sarah laughed. "Whoa there, tiger. No can do. You know I've got the charity basement sale in the morning, right? You were going to come."

"Oh. Yeah, that." Another thing he forgot to write on his calendar. "I'll be there to help set up. About seven?"

Adam left off with his romantic notions for the night. This obviously wasn't the time.

Soon, he went left and Sarah went right, and Adam felt nothing but shame. Sarah had always been good enough for him. What was with this sudden feeling like there might be something "more"? That was always a trick. You needed to be content with what and who you had.

As soon as he went home, he took some much needed pain medicine, a scalding hot shower, and slid between the sheets with The Phantom Tollbooth. But he had barely read two sentences when he fell asleep, letting the book drop onto his lap. That's when he had the nightmare.

He was back on the sidewalk in front of his apartment, alone–until a guy in a black hoodie came up to him, pulling it down to reveal none other than Curt Bayerly, unshaven with bloodshot eyes. He leveled a gun at Adam's face.

"You didn't do what you promised me you'd do. I didn't get my kids back, did I?"

Adam blinked furiously, trying to will the man to disappear. But he wouldn't. This was Curt, and he was back for revenge.

"Curt," Adam held his hands up in a motion of surrender, "I did all I could. And I'm sorry. Truly sorry it wasn't enough, or if I wasn't…convincing to the court somehow…"

"These." Curt threw a picture at Adam that showed his three children, sitting in a row, face to back, all looking at the camera and smiling. "These are my kids and I will never, ever see them again. Thanks for nothing. Now it's your turn to lose everything you ever had."

The gunshot blast was deafening, and Adam tossed himself across the bed, eyes flying open. In his confusion, he scrambled to get to his charging iPhone to call the cops, but slowly the dream seeped off. He knew he was in his room, it was four o'clock on a Saturday morning, he was in his bed…

And Curt was dead. He'd been found four days after the cops said he put the gun in his mouth with one hand, holding in his other hand the picture of his three kids. Adam had tried hard, but he hadn't been able to restore custody to his client due to the man's criminal record. This had all been three years ago, but it never went away.

Desperate for someone to talk to, but not someone he would worry like his mom, Adam turned on the phone and speed dialed Grandpa Greg. Of course, that could be like flipping a coin. Some days the man knew who Adam was; other days he told him to stop trying to steal his money and slammed down his old landline phone. But Adam had to try. Just in case…

"Hello?" the old man inquired sleepily.

"Grandpa, it's Adam." He got straight to the point, finding that that was the best way to talk to Grandpa Greg nowadays. "I had another dream about Curt. And I want to tell you about it. I need to tell you about it, and I need you to listen to me if you can. Because I'm lonely."

There, he said it. A catch caught in Adam's voice and he swallowed hard, having to reach beside his bed to grab his glass of water. "I'm lonely," he repeated, wondering if he spoke it only to thin air. Grandpa Greg's mind was sometimes there, sometimes not.

"I know, Son."

Adam heaved a great sigh of relief, closing his eyes and feeling a single tear travel down his cheek. His grandpa was here today.

"I'm lonely too. I miss Molly, and I don't know where she went." His voice was distant for a moment. "But it seems like she's been gone an awfully long time. I need her, you know."

Adam sat on the edge of his bed, tears overtaking him as he leaned forward and rested his forehead in his hands. He cried for the world then. For Curt Bayerly, for Grandpa Greg, for himself… even, for some reason, Sarah.

Apparently hearing the muffled sobs, his grandpa tried again to soothe him. "There, Son. There there. It'll pass. It always does. You'll go to sleep, and tomorrow morning everything won't look as bad. This is the curse of the nighttime. I'm always up at night myself, you see."

And Adam knew he would be. Sitting in his easy chair in an empty living room, always halfway poised as though ready to bolt off somewhere, but he was confused as to where. And he never failed to look over at the other chair where once Adam's grandma had sat.

But at least he was still here.

Adam sniffled, sitting up straight and looking around his room, reminding himself of the reality that he had a great home, a good job, a recently won case, and loving family, and Sarah. He didn't need anything else. And there was no point putting the bad images of his dream into his grandpa's already fragile head.

He spoke a few more words to Grandpa Greg, urging his grandfather to go to sleep by explaining to him again how to use the recliner handle on his chair. The man no longer even tried to travail up the stairs for his actual bed.

After the call ended, Adam smoothed out his sheets, determined to go back to sleep.

"Curt," he whispered just before closing his eyes. "Wherever you are, know that I'm sorry."

/

After Paige and Tim's engagement party, something shifted.

Adam couldn't say for sure what it was, but he and Sarah were both changed by it.

Sarah became softer, more sensual. She kissed him more often, reached out a lot more to touch his hand, shoulder, back. Things became more intimate, and she was more nurturing. More, more, more, and the more time that went by with this new habit of her drawing closer, the more he felt…

…Awkward.

Why, though? Hadn't he discovered he wanted this after the party where he listened as two people professed their intense love for one another? Sarah must have wanted it, too. He of course reciprocated, tried to relish it. He gave up his evenings in front of the TV watching Boardwalk Empire and Worst Cooks in America for makeout sessions on the sofa. He had flowers delivered–Sarah liked flowers, right? Though what kind?-and made sure to act delighted when she was waiting at his apartment one evening dressed in lingerie with dinner and candlelight waiting for him.

But the whole thing was just not them. It's not that a strong, fiercely independent woman like Sarah couldn't be romantic at the same time. Just, she never really had been before with him, nor he with her. Why couldn't they just sit together after work and discuss cases over glasses of wine? Or go out to dinner and trade thoughts on world news?

After nearly two months had gone by of the new dynamic, and Adam had tried, but failed, to embrace it, he decided enough was enough. He needed to talk to her about what exactly was going on. If she was trying to turn them into Paige and Tim, he wanted her to see that he didn't need that from her.

And, what's more, he wasn't sure he would be able to give it in return.

So it was with a thumping heart that he called her one morning, issuing an invitation: "How about we go to Cafe Luxembourg tonight?"

Cafe Luxembourg was a little upscale place Adam had been to only once, when his parents had come to town last year. It wasn't exactly a "grab a quick bite and chat" kind of place, but he wanted to take Sarah somewhere nice to discuss their relationship in order to reassure her that despite his words, meant to question her uncharacteristic behavior, he still cared about her and respected who she was to him. This place ought to do the trick.

"Wonderful," Sarah replied instantly. "There's something I wanted to talk about, too. See you at seven? Did we need reservations?"

"No, actually, if you can believe it." He cradled the phone while simultaneously tying his tie. He'd long ago relegated clip-ons to ambulance chasers and…well…public defenders. "I might get there a bit early, but I can always work. Take your time."

Actually, he might just stay at the Cat Cafe until around 6:30. There were a couple of new cats there, and Adam found himself drawn to them both. How had this happened? He'd never cared for cats in his youth, with the exception of Stella.

The first one, Gustav, was fat and lazy, walking with a haughty saunter around the cafe as though appraising his new surroundings. He took turns laying in one corner cat bed, then the next, and so on, much too fat to jump up onto the couch.

"We're putting him on a diet," Whitney, the owner, informed Adam upon his first encounter with Gustav. "It's totally abuse and neglect for someone to let a cat get that big."

Adam wasn't sure he'd go that far with it, but he nodded. Whitney had this way of watching him with her intense green eyes, which would be very pretty were it not for all the thick black eyeliner she rimmed them with. She was the cafe's owner, and always made it a point to come out and greet him. After her first few times of doing this, Adam knew she was a little infatuated.

He'd been told his entire life that he was attractive, handsome. "Such big blue eyes," he would hear. "And his eyebrows, oh my gosh. They just make his eyes cut into you." "His smile, those lips." In addition to his looks, he was also the smart kid, the star hockey player, the rich guy. His mom, during those early years, had talked to him about the hazards of becoming arrogant, and he'd taken them to heart except for the year he was in college after the breakup with Lacey and during law school. Then, he'd wanted to use his advantages to lure women into sleeping with him, which he now very much regretted. Therefore, he always tried to brush Whitney's attention to the side during his interactions with her, focusing instead on her words, which were mostly about the cats.

"And this one!" Whitney pointed to a cat underneath a coffee table, where only big, frightened eyes could be seen. "You can't see her that well under there, but she's white, and we call her Lace. Isn't that so perfect?" She grinned. "A white cat named Lace?"

"Absolutely it is," Adam replied automatically while returning her smile, wishing he could go hide under a coffee table himself.

He watched the little cat hidden in shadow for a moment, wishing he could lure her out, let her know she was safe. Suddenly he had the whimsical thought, what would Lacey have been like as a cat? Certainly playful, curious, and bold, the kind that would get right between your ankles while you tried to walk…until something scared her. Then she would be back under a table in a flash, much like her namesake here was.

Pushing the thought from his mind, Adam ordered his usual cafe au lait and began to work on typing up case notes, glancing occasionally at the cat under the nearby coffee table who kept her wary eyes trained on him.

A little before 6:30, Adam packed his things up, put his empty mug in the tub sitting out, and took a deep breath. Time to do this.

He wasn't sure exactly how to say what he wanted to, mentally rehearsing some ways to go about it in the taxi on his way to the restaurant. Finally, he just stopped trying to prepare himself. Things usually went better anyway when you just let it all come out naturally.

When he got to Cafe Luxembourg, Sarah was already there and waiting expectantly, napkin in her lap. The woman was punctual if she was anything.

"Hey, thanks for waiting," he greeted her awkwardly, realizing what a dumb statement that was to make–of course she would wait for him–but pressed on with the usual conversing pattern they had: first asking about work.

"Yeah, it was tough," she replied after having a sip of wine. "A woman came in to file today because her bathroom tile business, which had originally been her dad's, was just falling apart. She couldn't get and keep workers, her supply chain was a mess, and honestly I think it was all down to her being a poor businesswoman. She even said as much. But she definitely tried all she knew to do, and I really felt for her. So now," Sarah sighed, "bankruptcy as usual. And the store will close."

"You're good at what you do," Adam commented. "I mean, you know your stuff and you get it done regardless of feelings, but you do at least have them and always try to be fair to your clients."

Sarah seemed tense and preoccupied. "Yeah, well I try to be empathetic. That's what we went into this for, right? To help people?"

"Sure," Adam agreed, picking up the menu. The two of them went quiet as they studied it, Sarah settling on the pan-roasted salmon, him picking the half chicken au jus. After the waiter took their orders, they sat in silence for another moment, him sliding his fingers over the condensation on his water glass, trying to think of how to start, her appearing just as nervous as she continued to reach up and fumble with the necklace she always wore, a locket with a picture of her deceased father in it. And it occurred to him: she said she had something to talk to him about, too. What if she proposed? Sarah was a bold enough woman to toss tradition out the window and ask him to marry her herself if she was so inclined.

Oh God, what would he say?

"I think you should go first," Sarah finally spoke, her voice a tad bit higher than usual.

Adam swallowed, fidgeting with his fingers as he sought to get control of his nervousness, donning his Adam Banks, Attorney at Law persona. He cleared his throat, putting his hands in his lap, and made eye contact with Sarah. "So I've just noticed that since…well, since Tim and Paige's engagement party a couple months ago, things have changed a bit for us."

Sarah nodded, her nervousness thinly disguised.

"And the reason I invited you here to talk tonight is to tell you I can feel you trying to bring us closer… and I want you to know you don't need to try so hard. As a matter of fact, please don't. It feels like…well, frankly, not who we are. Not that I don't appreciate what you're doing, it's just that you and I, we aren't…"

Arent what? Adam questioned himself. Aren't destined for that kind of relationship? Have no hope of truly fulfilling one another's needs? What are we even doing?

The stark question hit Adam between the eyes, causing him to pause.

"So that's what you wanted to say?" Sarah's voice was measured in that way where Adam wasn't sure at all what she was thinking or going to say next. It was nerve-wracking. But he was pretty sure he was done talking. He'd communicated his feelings swiftly and clearly–he hoped. So he nodded.

Sarah was frozen to the spot for a moment before she breathed in deeply, letting it out in a woosh before she broke out into a chuckle. "Oh. Oh thank God."

Adam's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you were going to propose, Adam. And it scared me to death. Not because I don't…I mean…" she stammered.

His heart quickened as it sprung back up from his stomach, filling his entire body with intense relief. "Sarah, no." He leaned in, his own laugh bubbling up inside of him. "I was afraid of the same thing. When you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about too…"

"Yes! I did want to talk to you. About the very same thing you just said to me." Sarah giggled, appearing more relaxed than he'd possibly ever seen her. "Adam, listen." The words practically fell out of her mouth as though they'd been nesting there for quite some time. "I tried. After Paige and Tim's party, I wanted so badly to…to have that. So I thought maybe I should put more effort into creating that atmosphere for us. But it just–"

"-Didn't work," Adam finished for her. "It wasn't right. Something about it just didn't click."

"No, it didn't!" Sarah agreed animatedly. "And I'm so, so glad you feel the same way. I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"I get it. I get it completely." He reached over and took her hand fondly. "We heard those speeches from Tim and Paige, and we wanted that. We wanted to make it work."

"But with us, I think…" Sarah shrugged. "...I think maybe it's not in the cards."

Adam paused, realization dawning on him. "You're right, I guess…it isn't."

"And the thing is," Sarah continued, maintaining earnest eye contact, "I know we used to joke about that kind of thing–the ones 'in love,' you know. We kept saying we didn't believe in it, but…" she glanced down for a moment before looking back up. "I'm starting to think maybe I do."

Adam nodded, allowing her to continue.

"Because I had it once. With Nicky." She swallowed hard. "Before…you know. Before the world just kind of stopped for me." For the first time ever, Adam saw tears glisten in Sarah's eyes. "I held happily ever after right in my hands. And when it was ripped from me, the only way I knew to survive was to tell myself I was wrong, that Nicky and I hadn't been together long enough. If he'd lived, surely something else would have happened to drive us apart. I told myself those things for so long I began to doubt I'd ever loved him at all. But all I have to do is really crawl back into those memories, you know? Remember who he was, who I was, how we were together. Because when I do that, I know there's no way there wasn't pure, true love between us. And then also, you look at people like Paige and Tim…people like my parents…and so many others. Love is real. You know?"

Adam simply listened, not yet trusting himself to speak.

"And see, I'm thinking that if I had something that special with Nicky, I can have it again." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, to say the thing that would set her free. Sarah wanted to be free. She was ready to be.

And what else could he do? Didn't she deserve at least that much?

He took a deep breath. "Just not with me. Because you're right. We don't fit the same way, do we?"

Sarah shook her head slowly, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. "And you know it's true. You've never talked about it to me, but you were really hurt by the girl you loved a long time ago, weren't you?"

Adam didn't, couldn't, respond, instead averting his eyes,

"You can't let that hold you back from loving someone again any more than I can be held back by Nicky's death. I think what we've been doing together all this time has helped us in some ways. It's given us the comfort of having another person in our lives, someone who wasn't interested in anything serious or required effort on our part that we just didn't have. There's been companionship, friendship, and maybe even a little of its own kind of love. But not the kind that could ever sustain us. And that's why I think it's time to…to make room for something new. For us both."

Just then their food was delivered, and they received it awkwardly, feeling their wavelength break. Adam wanted nothing more than to just throw money on the table, get up, and leave. Sarah looked at him expectantly though, and he only wished he knew what to say to her. But he didn't. He understood exactly where she was coming from, and maybe she was right. He could definitely see why she wanted to leave the relationship, anyway. It was more than time for its confines to be lifted so she could fly, as she was clearly ready to do since the wake-up call of Tim and Paige's engagement party. But for her to assume it should be over simply so he, too, could go on to find his "true love"? Not happening.

Adam was not going there again. If he couldn't have a casual relationship with someone like Sarah, he would have no relationship at all. And it angered him that she even implied that that's what he needed.

Nicky died. He couldn't imagine the horror Sarah had gone through. He wouldn't wish knowing someone he loved died that way on his worst enemy. But that was alot different than having your heart shattered by a pickaxe in a relationship with a girl you loved more than life itself.

No. He would let Sarah go, and genuinely wish her well in her search for something more lasting than what they had. But he would not accept that this was what awaited him, too.

"Sarah," he spoke gently, feeling her anxious eyes on him. "I get it. And I think you're right. A relationship like ours can only go on for so long before it becomes stagnant, and…maybe we're there. Maybe the whole thing with Paige and Tim woke us up to that, and if so, I'm thankful for it," he smiled. "If you loved Nicky as much as I know you did, you have alot of love to give someone else. So go out and find that person. Okay?"

He could tell by the way her shoulders relaxed that this was something she needed to hear from him.

"I can only do that if I know you're doing the same thing," she replied, studying him hopefully.

He did everything he could to temper his voice to not sound angry or defensive. "We'll see about me. Right now I really don't want to do anything but focus on my job."

But this wasn't the thing Sarah apparently wanted to hear. "Adam, I–"

"Sarah," he cut in. "I can't go there right now."

After a moment, she nodded her acceptance and gave him a small, sad smile. "Always friends though. Right?"

"Friends." To punctuate the declaration, Adam took up the wine bottle and poured a little more in Sarah's empty glass. "Always."

The rest of the dinner wasn't awkward, surprisingly, but it definitely felt sad to Adam. This was the breakup of a relationship that had lasted years. Sure, it had never been filled with passion. Nor had it ever really challenged him, or grown him in any way he could think of. But it was comfort. And that's what he had needed.

They chatted a bit while they ate, discussing cases, visits home to family, and Paige and Tim's upcoming wedding. But after all the food was eaten, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable came, and the two of them stood to leave. They walked together outside and stood on the sidewalk, seeming not to know what to say or do. Finally, Sarah pulled out her phone. "I should call a cab. Would you like to share one?"

"No, it's okay. I think I'll walk for a little while," Adam replied, shifting from one foot to the other.

She gazed at him, and Adam could see guilt written all over her face.

"Sarah. This is a good thing. I promise it is. I think you're right, we've grown too much for this to continue as it was. I wish you more happiness than you can dream of, okay?" To prove to her he meant it, Adam reached out to embrace her.

She fell into his arms, pressing her face against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything. For holding my hand that first night without Nicky, and so many days and nights since then."

Adam squeezed her. "I couldn't have done it for a better person." Finally, he let her go. "And really. I'll always be a friend."

She smiled. "You'd bloody better."

There soon weren't any more words either of them cared to use, so after seeing her safely into the cab that came for her, he just turned and walked away.

The very first thought Adam had was, breaking up this way was so much simpler, so much more the way it ought to be if you weren't going to fully commit your heart to someone. Sure, Sarah had probably left a handful of things at his apartment, and him at hers, but there would be no moving, no rearranging lifestyles to accommodate a new one. His and Sarah's relationship had required very little of either of them.

Letting this go was good. It was the way things should be. But Adam was nearly buried under a tidal wave of guilt, regret, and loneliness. How was this anything close to the domestic situation he'd hoped to have by the time he was thirty? And yes, thirty was young. But not too young to be happy. Was it?

Suddenly desperate for comfort–nearly frantic for it, in fact–he turned and walked a couple miles and several blocks away. He had seen the cute little Art Nouveau building before, and had certainly heard about it from a few of his colleagues, who remained discreet.

"Went to Sally's last night and had the Chocolate Mousse. Was paralyzed for a full ten minutes afterward," Henry Price, whom Adam knew to have a fiance, chuckled.

"Nothing like the Salted Caramel Cake, I'm sure," Chester Wilkinson guffawed, which was the exact moment at which Adam stopped having respect for the older, wiser prosecutor. His family pictures, complete with grandkids, were sitting up all over his office (which, by the way, Adam had learned in law school never to do). And by this point, Adam knew exactly what kind of "desserts" Succulent Sweets by Sally offered.

How trashy, he had thought. Naming an escort service after a bakery. He didn't care how desperate he got, he wouldn't be caught dead resorting to a visit there.

Yet, here he stood, staring up at the whimsical little sign affixed to the arch above the door. The lights from within glowed invitingly. He needed relief from the growing pressure his tormented emotions was putting on his brain, and he knew going home and taking a few of his pain pills wasn't the answer. He wouldn't have enough to last him until the refill, anyway.

So why not try something new? He certainly had nothing to lose.

Taking a deep breath, Adam opened the door and entered.