Page 57 of Take What Hurts

Mackenzie stared at him, mouth agape, before it snapped closed. Her head swam. In the murky haze she saw the partnership slipping out of the tenuous grasp she’d had on it this morning. “Sy.” It came out strangled, and she squeezed her eyes closed. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t know where Anna got this, but—” The complainant wasn’t named, but she knew, and the twitch in Simon’s jaw confirmed it. She sucked in a breath. “Sy, you know I would never⁠—”

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but Adrienne shot him a look before turning her sharp eyes on Mackenzie. “Why don’t you tell us your side of this?”

Mackenzie eyeballed Adrienne and huffed in frustration. She didn’t hate Adrienne—in fact, she and Adrienne had been to lunch on more than one occasion and had laughed about the infantile behavior of some of their colleagues—but she also didn’t not hate Adrienne in this situation. Because right now she was all business, and Mackenzie hated that she was on the wrong end of it. “There isn’t much to tell aside from what I have already told the firm.” Direct and snappy and not at all polite. She moved past it, choking on a breath as she clasped her hands together—like if she squeezed them hard enough, she could just will them to stop trembling.

Adrienne looked at her expectantly, so Mackenzie repeated what she had told Simon the day Elliott recused herself from the file. “I met Elliott at the airport before the first conference I attended after I got the file. Neither of us knew who the other was. We were both surprised the next day to learn we were on opposite sides of the table.” She paused, because while she was confident they hadn’t done anything untoward while they were both actively working on the matter, the firm might not see it that way. “We formed a friendship⁠—”

Simon cut in, eyes on Adrienne. “Which, as you’re aware, Adrienne, happens occasionally when lawyers are working on the same matter.” Her heart swelled, and she worked to hold her body upright as it flooded with relief. He was on her side. Thank fuck for that. Perhaps making partner was still a possibility.

Adrienne gave a brief nod and motioned with her hand for Mackenzie to continue.

“And then feelings got involved in the friendsh⁠—”

“When?”

Mackenzie cleared her throat and ran her fingertips down the pleat along the front of her pants to her knee. “It was a Saturday. Weeks ago now.”

Adrienne gave a sharp nod and made a note before she tilted her head for Mackenzie to continue. “Elliott recused herself first thing the next workday. I notified Simon the same day, and he requested I remain acting for our client.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair.

Adrienne nodded, making another note on her pad. “So there was no sexual relationship or otherwise while you were actively doing work on the matter?”

Mackenzie shook her head. “No. None.”

Adrienne’s steel gray eyes bored into hers. “But there is one now.”

Mackenzie sat up in her chair, hands clasped together in her lap. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “There is.”

Simon’s voice mingled with the sound of Adrienne’s Montblanc pen scratching on her legal pad. “When did it start?”

Mackenzie’s eyes drifted to where Simon sat, reclined, one leg crossed over the other, fingers tapping a pattern on the arm of his chair. “This past weekend.”

Simon nodded, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “The firm can’t control what you do in your personal life.” His eyes shifted to Adrienne. “Though it might try.” He grimaced, and Mackenzie only lifted a shoulder in agreement.

Adrienne—finally, blessedly—smiled, and Mackenzie relaxed into the back of the chair. “Correct.” She placed her pen back down on her pad. “Presumably there are file notes that accurately reflect the prior discussions about this?”

Simon and Mackenzie nodded in unison.

“And there’s a file note of a discussion I had with Anna last week that was weird. Presumably it was a precursor to this complaint.” Mackenzie glanced at Simon. “Simon, you have that, right?” Nodding, he pulled out a printed copy and slid it across the table to Adrienne. Adrienne took the file note and added it to her compendium, while Mackenzie’s eyes wandered over the complaint in front of her. Witness to domestic relationship. She frowned. “Hey—” She glanced at Simon. “Do we know who this supposed witness is?”

Simon shook his head. “We asked, but she wouldn’t say.”

“Right.” Mackenzie frowned. “So, what’s her play, then? If she wants to sue us and presumably haul me in front of the Bar Association, she’s going to need the witness to give evidence.” Adrienne sighed and glanced at Simon, who shifted in his chair. Mackenzie’s eyes darted between them, entirely nonplussed. “What?”

Another moment where her colleagues communicated only through widened eyes and painful grimaces, and finally it clicked, realization dawning like the fucking day. Incongruent with the wave of nausea that rolled on through, the laughter that originated from her churning stomach bubbled out of her mouth. Leaning further back in her chair, she crossed one leg over the other and slipped a hand into her pocket. “Oh, she wants a payout.” Simon and Adrienne nodded like sad bobblehead dolls, and Mackenzie’s laughter cut off abruptly, a scowl creeping across her face. “And the firm is considering it.”

Adrienne grimaced, and Mackenzie watched in fascination as Simon’s ears deepened in color until they were almost purple. “She’s made us an offer.”

And laughter leaked out of Mackenzie again. The irony. The woman who preferred to have her teeth pulled over making an offer to resolve her divorce was more than happy to do it when it suited her. All that came out of her mouth was a weak choke. “Of course she has. And?” She looked expectantly at Adrienne, projecting calm despite the way Mackenzie’s index finger nervously stroked the silk lining of her pocket.

Adrienne placed her Montblanc on the oak tabletop and folded her hands in front of her. “Well, the first part has already happened.” Mackenzie’s stomach dropped out of her body. If the first part had already happened, the rest was inevitable. All of this without even pausing to have this discussion with her.

And the knowledge and the implication that flowed from it struck her across the face, stinging like a fucking slap.

The dream of making partner was certainly gone.

Possibly her job too.

She let the words wash over her as she sat in a silence that was more necessary than voluntary, what with the way her throat had closed over itself. “You are to be removed from the Jenkins matter. Simon”—she motioned to where he sat, his palms scraping over his thighs—“was formally assigned the matter late yesterday. As I understand it, the other party, Matilda, has formally accepted our client’s offer.”