21

I wondered why. Considering Christopher had worked at the firm for the last eight years, it seemed odd that his was missing.

I took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I heard from the other side.

I didn’t know why I was racked with nerves or why my body felt so weak, my limbs numb. This was just an internship; it wasn’t like I was about to step into court for the very first time. Hopefully, I’d feel better once I got a sense of Christopher and his work style and what this process was actually going to look like.

Knowing I was already taking too long, I turned the knob and slowly opened the door. I was fully expecting there to be a tall, almost-lanky, blond-haired, light-blue-eyed man behind the desk—details I’d captured during my research of him.

But Christopher’s eyes weren’t the ones staring back at me.

These were green.

Magnetic.

And they pulled so many memories from my mind, ones that had started during the mock trial, ones that continued at the bar, ones that