53

Dominick popped in, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s happening? What did I miss?”

“We’re going out,” Ford told him, and then he looked at me. “Because I need a fucking drink.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” I asked.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ford groaned. “Dominick, either meet us at Jenner’s or we’ll see you at the bar.”

I checked the time at the top of my monitor.

I had three hours.

Except I needed that drink now.

Ford left, and I looked at Dominick. “Any reason we should wait until eight to start drinking?”

He came into my office and took a seat in front of my desk. “Hell no.”

“Perfect answer.”

I walked to the wet bar in the back of the room—one of the first things I’d had built when I took over this space. Fresh out of law school, I’d told my parents that clients would be impressed by it. In all actuality, it was for circumstances like this.

“Cheers,” I said, handing him a glass as I returned to my seat.

“Sounds like you’re over this day?”

I nodded. “Not ju