He attended functions. Business dinners. Fund-raisers. Receptions. Soirees. Rarely did he make an appearance without an agenda. Never did he volunteer his involvement without the guarantee of a return. And then came Macy’s monthly game night. Which proved the folly of active participation. Look what that lapse had gotten him. Moving from a perfectly suitable extended-stay suite into the midst of madness. He’d never been late to court in his life. But yesterday morning he’d barely managed to drop his butt in his seat before the bailiff called, “All rise.” He’d spent as much of the past two days at the office as he could find work to fill. With his current caseload, if he’d wanted, he could’ve spent the night. Sleeping on the sofa in his office wouldn’t be anything new. And there was the law firm’s efficiency apartment to consider. But last night, he’d returned home, wanting simply to hear Macy breathe.
