someone who didn’t deserve to lose everything in hopes of a better life.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
“Not all my clients deserve better than they get. I try to be choosy about what cases I take on, but sometimes I’m given cases I don’t want. It still amazes me how many assholes there are in this world and how far some people will go to destroy others.”
You can hear how much he cares about making things right for his clients. And how irritating it can be to stand up for someone who doesn’t deserve it.
Thankfully, Lennon’s disposition doesn’t seem to be affected by our conversation as we make our way toward the main house.
“Where are we off to tonight?”
“Dinner. I figured after a long night of drinking tequila, I should probably feed you. Then back here to watch a movie.”
Raising my eyebrow at him, Lennon rolls his eyes.
“Yes, it’s cheesy, but I’m kind of looking at this as our first real date. It was my choice tonight. And of all the things we could have done, I wanted something low key so we could talk. Something where you didn’t feel any pressure. Plus,” he says, leaning in close and whispering in my ear, “the restaurant may or may not have agreed to let the cameras in.”
A smile spreads across my face as we’re ushered into the waiting town car.
The one thing I want more than anything is to not have a camera in my face. To be able to fully be myself, and I can’t do that when I know someone is watching.
And here . . . someone is always watching. Even when you think they’re not.
True to his word, the cameramen are escorted out of the restaurant as we’re shown to our table. I notice them try to come in for dinner, but the hostess refuses them a table even though the place is almost empty.
They don’t have a reservation.
Either that or Lennon pulled some strings.
“Okay,” I start when I see the cameraman pacing by the front window, his phone pressed to his ear. “How’d you do it? I have to know.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies with a smile.
“Right.” Returning my attention to the menu in front of me, I browse through the offerings as we wait for the waiter to bring us the bottle of white wine Lennon ordered.
“I’ve heard great things about this place, but it recently changed ownership, so I’m not sure how good it’ll be.”
Looking around the room before making eye contact with Lennon, I grimace. “It’s kind of empty in here. Makes me worried the new owners are going to run the place into the ground.”
“Not a chance. It’s empty because I wanted it that way. No one was allowed to make a reservation for the two hours I booked.”
“Why did you do that?”
“One, so I could piss off the camera guy and Claudia. Two, because I’m sick of my every move being filmed and this felt like it would be a great time to take a break. And three, I wanted to talk to you alone, without anyone else around. Plus, the guy who bought the place owed me a favor and was happy to help.”
Owed him a favor?
“Why was he in debt to you?”
“Because I didn’t stand in the way of him marrying the love of his life.” Lennon’s smile continues to grow with every word he speaks. As if there’s more to what he’s saying.
“But you deal in divorce. That doesn’t make any sense.”
All he does is nod. Before I can inquire more, the waiter is pouring each of us a glass of wine, reciting the dinner specials, and taking our order. By the time he’s gone, our conversation is long forgotten.
“To love and lust,” Lennon says, raising his glass. “May we be blessed with both.”
I clink my glass with his as I think over his words.
“It’s strange. A relationship can be filled with lust and lack love but not the other way around.” My words seem to strike deep for him.
“You can have one and not the other, yes. But if you have one, you tend to want the other as well. I always thought the name of the show was silly. They had to know people would sleep with each other—it’s probably what they were going for—but that people would fall in love too. The entire premise seems stupid now. All they do is push people together and then rip them apart.” Lennon’s