My phone begins to vibrate again on my stomach where I’ve dropped it, and I reach for it, frowning when I see the name there.

He’s definitely a large part of it, if I’m being honest with myself. I consider not answering for all of three seconds before I swipe to answer, hitting the speaker button and setting the phone on my chest.

“What do you want, Ezra?”

“So many things,” he says cryptically, sighing after. “But for now, I’d like to talk about this morning.”

“I already told you,” I mutter bitterly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I can practically hear his brain recalibrating. “Then we’ll talk about work. We still have your interrogatories to go over.”

“That easy?”

“I can’t force you to talk to me about your feelings,” he says simply.

I scoff. “That implies I have feelings on the matter to begin with.”

“You’re the one still pressing the issue right now.”

I scowl at the smile in his voice. Asshole.

“Fine,” I say tightly, rolling over my bed to my nightstand to grab my laptop. I open it up to his last email, snorting when I’m reminded of his ridiculous objections as I set my phone back on my chest. “We’ll talk about work. Starting with how ridiculous your objections are.”

“I don’t know how you mean,” he answers, still sounding amused.

I shut my eyes, sighing. “For starters, you have eight general objections.”

“So?”

“We both know that the state of Texas doesn’t allow for general objections.”

“I would venture to say that they’re just frowned upon.”

I rub the space between my eyes. “You’re going to have to revisit and revise. You can’t object to every single one.”

“Just wanted to make sure we had plenty to talk about,” he says, his tone slightly teasing now. It makes my stomach flip in a way that makes me scowl. “Besides, I think what I’ve provided is more than adequate barring any general objections.”

“Ezra.”

“Fine. I might be willing to make you a trade,” he says nonchalantly. “I could be persuaded to remove a few.”

“And what, pray tell, would you want in return?”

“I want to talk about this morning.”

My nostrils flare with an exasperated exhale. “Of course you do.”

“You do too, if you would just be honest.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. We fell asleep, and then you were gone when I woke up. I think it speaks for itself.”

“We both know if I’d been there when you woke up, you would have freaked out. You would have overanalyzed the entire thing, and then we’d be right back to the insufferable game we’ve been playing where you pretend you don’t want me, and I pretend it doesn’t make me crazy.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” I tell him blandly. “Since you left.”

Ezra sighs. “Let’s play a game. Answer my questions, and I’ll trade each answer for an objection.” He pauses for another moment. “Save for a select few.”

I let out a heavy sigh, leaning my head back against the headboard as I look up at the ceiling. I wonder if it was always inevitable, us having a conversation like this. I wonder if it was ever possible that we could just get through this thing we’ve been doing scathe-free.

I focus my attention back on my laptop, resigning myself to a conversation I’ll probably regret.

“Fine,” I say tersely. “You objected to Request Number Four on the basis that it is vague, overly broad, and unduly burdensome, and that it seeks information that is proprietary and confidential. Surely you understand what material is sought by this request, otherwise, how could you determine that it seeks information that is proprietary and confidential?”

“Fair enough,” he assents. “I can omit that one.”

“For a price,” I mumble bitterly.

“I’m a lawyer, Dani,” he chuckles. “All I do is counter.”

“Fine. Ask your question.”

“What would you have done, really, if we’d woken up together this morning?”

I blanch. “I…how would I know? There’s no way for me to know since you—”

“Be honest, Dani. After everything that’s happened between us, how do you think you would have reacted?”

I go still, thinking. If I were being truly honest with myself, there’s no doubt in my mind I would have freaked out. Fucking each other is one thing, sleeping together is something completely different. I hate that he apparently knows me well enough to call me on this.

“I can…admit that I might have reacted poorly.”

“You would have flipped shit and kicked me out,” he snorts.

I will not smile at his teasing tone. I won’t.

“Guess we’ll never know for sure.”

“But you enjoyed last night, didn’t you?”

Uncomfortable awareness creeps up my spine. “That’s more than one question.”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Number Six.” I find the line on my screen. “You objected on the basis that it exceeds the scope of expert discovery under Rule 194.1.”

“And?”

“Rule 194.1 governs the production of statements given by parties or witnesses—not the scope of expert discovery. Even if you meant to refer to Rule 192.4, which does address expert discovery, you are still wrong, because the law requires the production of any written report made by the expert concerning the expert’s findings and opinions.”

“Someone’s getting technical,” he laughs softly.

“Someone has a lot at stake,” I counter. “We have named experts now. They have to answer.”

“Okay. You’re right. Omit it.”

“Fine. Ask me another question.”

“What do you mean you have a lot at stake?”

Fuck. I walked right into that one.

“I just meant that it’s an important case.”

“I don’t think that’s all you meant. We had a deal, Dani.”

I know giving him this information will probably come back to haunt me, and I can’t even say why I’m compelled to give it in the first place. All I know is that my mouth is opening before I can stop it.

“My boss has agreed to put me up for junior partner if I win.”

“Wow.”

“But that doesn’t mean I want you cutting corners or babying me,” I stress.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, a smile still in his voice. “That’s not who we are.”

“Right. So just forget I even said anything.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answers softly. “Do you have another?”

“I think your objection to Request Number Seven is plausible, so I’m not going to contest it, but you objected to Request Number Nine on the basis that the request potentially seeks attorney work product and attorney-client privileged information. You then go on to state that no documents are being withheld pursuant to these privileges. If there are no documents subject to these privileges, why are you objecting?”

“Can’t argue with that,” he says. “Feel free to omit.”

“Good.”

“Why don’t you like me?”

I blink in surprise, taken completely off guard by the question. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I don’t think you actually dislike me, not anymore,” he says, setting off a flicker of annoyance in me before he goes on. “But the night we met, you decided I was some asshole within one conversation. Why?”

I can’t help but remember the night in question, thinking back to the moment I saw him laughing at the open bar of the party we were both attending—the memory of his smile fixing me in place still vivid after so many months. I knew who he was; how could I not, with him and his stupid Heartbreak Prince nickname floated around by other lawyers, but being that he’d only just moved back to Austin after a stint in New York for the last few years, I hadn’t actually run into him before.

“You were talking to another woman,” I say, remembering. “Smiling and laughing while she ate it up.”

He makes an indignant sound. “Wait, so I’m being punished for talking to other women before I even met you?”