She Didn’t Fix Her Reputation. She Threw It Away. Chapter 22

She Didn’t Fix Her Reputation. She Threw It Away. Chapter 22

A month later, Zoe and I were in our usual seats at our favorite ivy-covered café.

We were in the middle of a heated debate about the burden of proof in environmental litigation.

“No, Claire, a judge would never accept that kind of indirect evidence. It’s too idealistic.” Zoe was waving her croissant for emphasis, nearly sending a shower of crumbs into my latte.

I was about to launch into my rebuttal when the bell over the door chimed.

A man who had absolutely no business being in Portland pushed his way inside.

It was Beckett.

He had lost weight.

The perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit he was wearing now hung on his frame, looking borrowed and ill-fitting.

His usually immaculate hair was a mess, and a shadow of stubble darkened his jaw. The eyes that had always held a spark of arrogant amusement were now bloodshot and haunted.

The entire café seemed to fall silent.

His gaze swept the room, frantic, before it landed on me.

The moment he saw me, his entire expression transformed.

It was the look of a drowning man who had just found air.

“Daphne.”

He didn’t say the name out loud, but I read it on his lips.

Zoe followed my gaze and frowned.

“Who’s that guy? He looks like he’s about to either burst into tears or punch a wall.”