She’d stayed up most of the night before thinking about Jack. She’d tossed and turned all night, wishing she could see him—even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. Why is he consuming my every thought? Now she threw herself into the work that had piled up while she was gone. She hung up the phone with a client and weeded through the stack of messages on her desk. How will I ever get through these? She prioritized them into separate stacks: clients whose lives would turn inside out if she didn’t call them back immediately, clients who only thought their lives would turn upside down, and people who might one day become clients. The remaining two stacks consisted of other legal shit she had to take care of and…Connor Dean. Not only had he filled her voicemail and sent her too many text messages to count, but he’d also left seven messages with her assistant, Catherine. She couldn’t fathom why he was trying to get in touch with her at all. She’d already severed their working relationship and handed his files off to another attorney.
