Paper Hearts Read online

  “I want to say this probably involves conflict of interest, for you, if not for him.” Dinesh heaved a mighty sigh, and then he laughed. “I’m just kidding. Have fun. He is hot, although I never thought I’d see you with a divorce lawyer.”

  “The awesome thing about a divorce lawyer is that he’s almost certain never to want a lifetime commitment.” Sam gave Dinesh a big, cheesy smile. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be in that business, am I right?”

  Dinesh shook his head. “Someday you’re going to fall hard for someone, and you’ll be up such a creek.”

  Sam waved goodbye and headed out. He hadn’t ever imagined himself with a divorce lawyer either, but it wasn’t like he was looking to marry the guy. He just wanted to get a drink or two with him, maybe have a little fun sometime down the road. It was hardly a forever kind of thing. Dinesh could laugh at him all he wanted about falling hard and commitment issues, but Sam wasn’t the one shelling out big bucks to get free. Sam wasn’t the one whose spouse turned into a loon overnight.

  He refused to think about Ida any more than he had to. Dinesh wasn’t the only one she’d betrayed, damn it.

  He got a cab to the bar. It wasn’t far away, and he usually walked when he went there, but it was still too hot to walk and be presentable and he didn’t have a lot of time to spare. The cab got him there in record time, and he gave the driver a generous tip in gratitude.

  Morrison’s was an older type of place, the kind of place people insisted didn’t exist in New York anymore. It lurked in the basement of an old brownstone on a side street, which might have had something to do with its longevity, and specialized in serving old-school cocktails in a “classic” environment.

  Sam tended to think of a “classic” environment as the seedy dive bar on the corner where his dad used to hang out, but Morrison’s wasn’t like that. It was an upscale kind of place, one that tried to evoke the better parts of the Gilded Age. It called to mind elegance and opulence, without the misogyny, racism, and homophobia.

  Sam grabbed a seat, one of the few available, and waited for Jordan to show up. He didn’t have to wait long, only a couple of minutes. Apparently, Jordan liked to be punctual. Sam liked that in a guy. He liked a lot of other things about Jordan too, like his tan, his little smirk, and his impeccable hair.

  Jordan sat on the stool beside Sam and smiled at the bartender, who looked like he might melt. Sam could sympathize. He ordered a Means of Preservation, Sam ordered a Manhattan, and they turned to face each other. “Thanks for inviting me out,” Jordan told him, dark eyes shining. “Today was rough. It gave me something to look forward to.”

  “How rough is rough?” Sam supposed a lot of divorce cases got rough. It went with the territory. He sipped from his drink and relaxed, just a bit. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited for a date. He didn’t want to know if Jordan was reading more into it than he should, though. He didn’t think he was ready for the fallout.

  Jordan waved a hand. “It’s always rough when kids are involved, and in this case the Department of Social Services is involved too. Literally everyone, from DSS to police, to the kids themselves, to their teachers, was adamant that the mother should have no time with the kids. The mother didn’t even want unsupervised visitation. She’s got issues, and she knows it. But the judge called the recommendation unnatural, tossed it out the window, and gave her weekends. Unsupervised.”

  Sam grimaced. “That doesn’t make sense.” He gulped from his drink. He wasn’t looking forward to the custody part of Ida and Dinesh’s divorce. A small part of Sam would feel bad about testifying to cut Ida off from her children. It was only a small part, though. “Was the judge drunk?”

  “It’s entirely possible.” Jordan shrugged. “Hopefully, the mother in question will waive visitation or at least request supervision and it will all work out. But anyway—you’re not really all that interested in the weirdness of custody cases, are you?” He grinned, mischievous and gorgeous.

  “Well, I was just thinking how lucky we all are that I’m not a judge” Sam saw no reason to hide it. “I thought divorce lawyering was just trying to get as much money for your client as you could and that’s the end of it.”

  Jordan snickered. Sam had worried he might be offended, but he just let it slide right off of him. It was a good sign. “Nah, I mean sure, there are some lawyers who’ll do that, but they’re also not choosy about their clients. We have standards. And we do try to do what’s best for everyone in the case, especially when there are kids. Any kind of family disruption can be rough on kids. There’s no reason to make it worse than it has to be, you know?” He made a face. “We did this pro bono case one time where we wound up having to work with immigration attorneys to keep the wife and kids in the country. The husband, when the wife left due to abuse of the children, tried to get them all deported. Fun times. And a whole separate area of law I never want to have to look at again.”

  “Yikes.” Sam edged a little closer to Jordan. “I had no idea it was so complicated. I’m twice as glad I didn’t go into law now.”

  “I never did find out what you do.” Jordan sat up a little straighter, glad to be talking about something else. Sam could see it in his eyes.

  “I work in television. I’m the vice president of Programming at Broadcast Central Corp.” He smirked. “Although I want to point out that Savage Hearts is a legacy show, we acquired it when we bought out another network, and I’m not responsible for green lighting that terrible piece of television history.”

  “Well that’s good to know.” Jordan spoke with a serious, straight face. “The mullets alone are grounds for a lawsuit in thirteen states, as well as the city of Chicago.”

  “Right?” Sam laughed, and they both settled in for a good evening.

  Jordan was everything Sam liked in a partner. When they met, Sam had been attracted to his looks, and Jordan certainly had nothing to be ashamed of there. Now that they had a chance to chat, and outside of a professional setting, Sam found himself drawn more to Jordan’s sense of humor than anything else. The comment about the mullets was just the start. By the time they left the bar, Sam’s sides ached with laughter.

  He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Dinesh shouldn’t have married Ida, it was true, but he had, and now he was sitting in a condo near the medical examiner’s office, heartbroken over the loss of his one true love or whatever. Sam didn’t regret taking the chance to enjoy life a little, even with someone he’d met through Dinesh’s misfortune, but he did feel guilty about it. Plenty of people wouldn’t recognize the fine line there, but it existed, and Sam danced merrily along it.

  “Does this constitute a conflict of interest for you?” he asked Jordan, as they walked out into the dank Manhattan air.

  “Why, because you’re the brother of my client’s estranged spouse? No. Does the whole sister thing make it a conflict of interest for you?” He tilted his head to the side, like a cat or a bird.

  “No. Not at all. I have a unique relationship with my family. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost her mind a long time ago.” Sam scoffed. “I did my part, I tried to warn him, and that’s all I can do.” He rubbed his hands together, like he was washing them, and held them up. “Beyond that, I think it would be a little weird to get too involved, don’t you?”

  “Maybe. It’s not my place to judge.” He smirked. “That would involve a pay cut, and I’m so not here for that.”

  “Amen to that.” Sam leaned in and kissed Jordan, quickly, on the lips. “I’d like to see you again.”

  Jordan’s cheeks turned pink, just above his artfully maintained stubble. “I’d like that. I’ll text you a couple of ideas, and you let me know which works best for you?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you soon.” Sam started off toward the subway.

  He barely noticed the crowd still on the platform, even at this late hour. His mind was still on Jordan. Good humor, good looks, a good job—Jordan seemed to be the complete package.

&nbs
p; Sam didn’t need forever. He didn’t even want forever. He just wanted someone to be with, who wanted the same things he did. Jordan might be that guy. He hoped he’d get a chance to find out.

  Chapter 2

  August slowly ticked over into September. The change in calendar didn’t bring much temperature relief with it. It did, however, bring an onslaught of Christmas decorations, pumpkin spice everything, and an overwhelming urge (in Jordan, at least) to replace his wardrobe and buy a lifetime supply of notebooks, pens, and pencils.

  He overcame the urges, for the most part. He did invest in a few new ties. It was a small indulgence, and satisfied close to two decades’ worth of “back to school” programming.

  He’d hoped the new month would bring a quick resolution in the Mishra divorce. It didn’t seem all that complicated. The wife felt strongly about her newfound religion, and the husband felt pretty strongly about it too. Their differences were completely incompatible with continued marriage. Surely, they could both see that.

  What Jordan hadn’t counted on was Ida Mishra’s absolute fervor about the sanctity of marriage. Apparently, this fervor was newfound, given that she’d been the one to insist on a prenup, but now divorce was simply unthinkable. She would no more sign divorce papers than she would cut off her own hand. At least, that was what her attorney said. Her pastor said it too, in daily calls to Jordan’s office.

  Jordan had initially been willing to accept that Ida’s new church was exactly what it claimed to be—a church, like any other. Each call from her pastor made him more suspicious that the “church” might be something more sinister, but what could he do? Ida was an adult, and adults could join cults if they liked.

  He tried not to talk shop when he was out with Sam. They were both busy guys, and they didn’t often have time to get together. The time they did get to be together should be spent on fun, not work. Jordan especially didn’t want to waste time talking about the Mishra case, because he couldn’t imagine Sam wanted to be in the middle of it any more than he already was.

  If Sam brought it up, though, Jordan couldn’t exactly push him away.

  “It wouldn’t even be that bad if she was trying to repair the marriage,” Sam groused. “It’s not about love, not anymore. She’s doing it because that jackass of a pastor she’s following is telling her to hold out for more money from Dinesh. That’s all.” They were sitting in a coffee shop in Lincoln Square, not too far from Lincoln Center. Sam had gotten them opera tickets, and Jordan was being supportive about it. He’d never been a big opera fan, but he’d go to make Sam happy.

  He couldn’t help but smirk at his companion now. “You don’t think she wants to stay married to Dinesh? She loved him enough to marry him, and enough to want to protect him with a prenup, right?”

  Sam took a bite from his pastry. “Sure. She loved him so much she decided to get caught up in the same fake-religious drivel our parents did, the stuff she left home to avoid, and tried to change everything about him. That’s how much she wanted to stay married to the guy. Every marriage turns out like this.” He shook his head, a little smile playing around his lips. “It’s a setup for failure, honestly.”

  Jordan pulled his head back. He’d met guys who weren’t all that keen on marriage before, but this was a new one on him. “A setup for failure? Really?”

  Sam laughed and leaned forward. “Exactly. Our society puts so much emphasis on that one thing—marriage, like it’s got anything at all to do with anything else. We build it up, and I’m just as guilty. How many shows do I green light where the happy ending involves a church, two rings, and some cheesy vows? That’s what the gay rights movement decided to pin their whole platform on—equal marriage rights. Because the right to walk down a special part of the floor was so much more important than health care, or housing discrimination.” He snorted.

  Jordan bit his lip. “You’ve got a point.” He weighed his words carefully. He liked Sam, and he didn’t want to chase him off. He also wanted to be careful not to read more into his words than there was. But he couldn’t just let the words lie, either. He was a lawyer. He wasn’t capable of not arguing. “But part of housing discrimination and even health care rests on people being able to delegate decision making to their spouses, and being able to live with their spouses just like the rest of the population. Leave their estates to their spouses without their families swooping in like packs of vultures. It’s equality.”

  “True.” Sam’s green eyes blazed, and he pulled his chair closer. “You’ve got a good point there. It was probably a strategic choice, on a lot of levels, and I shouldn’t complain. But honestly, don’t you think our culture puts too much of a premium on an artificial permanence? Your whole career is based on pulling marriages apart, isn’t it?”

  “Well, no. The marriages are usually pretty far gone by the time I get called in. Sometimes I get to help patch them together. I’d like to do more of that, actually.” Jordan’s face got hot. He didn’t tell people that very often. He just didn’t have the opportunity.

  He imagined they’d give him the same look Sam was giving him now. “Seriously? Wouldn’t you lose out on a ton of money?”

  “Maybe.” Jordan squirmed a little in his seat. “But I’ve got to admit it’s a little depressing, sitting around and watching love die all day. I like to see people happy. Huh—I wonder if I could moonlight as a matchmaker.” He filed the idea away in the back of his mind, for later use.

  “Have you ever set up a couple that’s stayed together for more than a year?” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Absolutely. Ten, actually, with seven marriages.” Jordan sipped from his mocha. “That doesn’t necessarily translate to success as a professional matchmaker.”

  “No.” Sam played footsie with Jordan, under the table. “And honestly, we’ve had three dates since we met, because of scheduling issues. And the cancellations haven’t all been mine. They haven’t even mostly been mine.” He grinned, so Jordan knew he wasn’t angry. “Maybe you don’t have time to moonlight, sweetheart.”

  Jordan ducked his head and laughed. He felt like a teenager again, awkward and shy in the face of this gorgeous and confident man. And Sam was giving him pet names already? His heart didn’t need opera to get all aflutter. “You’re probably right. Still, it’s an idea. If nothing else, I can sit there while a judge drones on and fantasize about it.”

  “You can fantasize about fixing a judge up with an actuary. They can drone at each other while they’re going at it.” Sam waggled his eyebrows at Jordan.

  Jordan knew just the judge, and he’d dealt with the exact actuary to be involved with the case. “Oh God, I can see it now. I wish I couldn’t, but I can see it now. I think I’m going to be sick.” He clutched at his stomach.

  Jordan didn’t care about the opera, so he focused on enjoying Sam while the performers sang. He tried to be subtle about his studies, not that Sam seemed to be paying attention. His attention was completely soaked up by the drama down on the stage. Jordan hadn’t met a lot of Jersey boys, except maybe a few from the toniest towns, who were into opera. Jordan knew, from conversations with Sam and from the Mishra divorce, that Sam’s family hadn’t had much.

  He’d love to know how Sam had been exposed to opera, and why he loved it as much as he did.

  Sam’s cynicism on the subject of marriage bothered him to some extent, but Jordan couldn’t exactly cast stones. He might prefer to see people end up happy, but he did make his bread and butter from the dissolution of marriage. Sam had so far been a kind and generous boyfriend. Jordan had no reason to think his issues with the institution extended so far as to involve a general distaste for commitment.

  Sam kissed him when they parted ways at the subway, a deep, fiery kiss that made more than one passerby demand they get a room. He tasted incredible, and Jordan eagerly molded himself to fit Sam’s warm, muscular body. He wanted to invite Sam back to his place, but he held back. They hadn’t been together that long. This was their first real
kiss, and Jordan wanted to go slow. Sam was someone special, and he deserved to be treated like someone special.

  Besides, it was a work night, and Jordan didn’t want to feel rushed for his first time with Sam.

  He went home alone, eager for the next time they could get together.

  The next day, he found a counterproposal from Ida Mishra’s attorney on his desk. Ida would “permit Dinesh to return to the family abode” if he attended counseling sessions with her and the pastor twice per week, disavowed his sinful lifestyle, and ceased contact with those friends seeking to lead him into temptation. If they could not find common ground after one year of counseling, she would yield with grace to the inevitable.

  Jordan wasn’t sure what he was reading, but he knew it wasn’t a reasonable solution. He called Dinesh anyway, because he didn’t want to hide anything from his client. And he’d certainly heard of stranger reconciliations, so he wasn’t going to write this one off simply because it turned his stomach. After all, the decision wasn’t his to make.

  Dinesh cleared his schedule and came down to the office immediately. Fortunately for Jordan, he had the morning more or less free. “I need to see this in person,” Dinesh growled. “Did she actually have someone write that down in legalese or whatever?”

  “She did.” Jordan passed the offer over to Dinesh. “There’s no mention of alimony or support in his counteroffer. I don’t want to make assumptions about his sincerity, but on the basis of what I’m seeing here, I’d have to guess the attorney ‘s on the up and up, at least.”

  “This is insane. It’s insane.” Dinesh thumped the piece of paper and looked up at Jordan. “Has this sort of thing ever worked?”

  Jordan looked up at the ceiling, rifling through his memory. “I want to say I’ve seen it be successful in some cases where both parties were deeply religious, but I have to emphasize that word both. I can’t imagine it’s ever been a successful gambit in cases where one spouse was religious and the other wasn’t.”