Updated Feb 18, 2026 • ~9 min read
Harlow doesn’t accept the settlement offer.
Not yet.
She tells Mira she needs more time to think. To process. To make sure she’s not being manipulated.
The truth is more complicated.
She’s not ready for this to be over.
Which is insane. She should want the divorce finalized immediately. Should take the fair settlement and run before Roman changes his mind or Miles replaces him with someone worse.
Instead, she’s stalling.
Because ending the case means never seeing Roman again.
And apparently, she’s a masochist.
The coffee shop is two blocks from the courthouse.
Harlow discovers it by accident—or tells herself it’s an accident—three days after her visit to Roman’s office.
She’s supposed to meet Mira to discuss the settlement. The courthouse Starbucks is packed, so she walks two blocks to this smaller place. Quieter. Less crowded.
Better coffee, too.
She orders a latte. Finds a corner table. Opens her laptop to review case documents.
And that’s when Roman walks in.
He doesn’t see her immediately. He’s on his phone, distracted. Orders at the counter—Americano, no cream—and waits.
Harlow should leave. Should grab her coffee and go before this becomes awkward.
Instead, she watches him.
He looks tired. There are shadows under his eyes. His suit is still perfect, but his tie is slightly loose. Like he’s been wearing it since six AM and it’s now almost noon.
He’s working too hard. Probably because Miles is making his life hell over the settlement offer.
Not her problem.
Except… it kind of is. Because Roman is tanking his own career to give her a fair deal.
The barista calls his name.
Roman grabs his coffee. Turns.
And sees Harlow.
He freezes.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
Then Roman crosses the coffee shop. Stops at her table.
“This is a bad idea,” he says.
“I was here first.”
“We shouldn’t be seen together outside of official proceedings.”
“So leave.”
Roman doesn’t leave.
He sits down.
And Harlow’s traitorous heart does something ridiculous.
“This is a terrible idea,” he says again.
“You already said that.”
“It bears repeating.”
They stare at each other.
Then Harlow says, “How much trouble are you in? With Miles?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. Just curious.”
Roman takes a sip of his coffee. “He threatened to file a bar complaint. Claims I’m not adequately representing his interests.”
“Are you?”
“No. Not anymore.” He says it matter-of-factly. “I’m representing what’s legally and ethically correct. Which isn’t the same as making Miles happy.”
“He’s going to fire you.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Roman looks at her. Really looks at her. “Yes. I am.”
The words hang between them.
Harlow should let it go. Should drink her coffee and leave and let Roman make his terrible professional decisions alone.
Instead, she asks, “Why’d you become a divorce lawyer?”
“That’s a conversation-starter.”
“We’re having a conversation apparently. Might as well make it interesting.”
Roman almost smiles. “My mother’s divorce was brutal. Her lawyer was useless. My father took everything—house, savings, custody. Left her with nothing. I was twelve. Old enough to understand what was happening but too young to help.” He pauses. “I swore I’d help people navigate the system fairly. Make sure what happened to her didn’t happen to others.”
“But you ended up representing the fathers. The ones taking everything.”
“Yeah. Funny how that works.” His voice is bitter. “I told myself I was providing a necessary service. Everyone deserves representation. But somewhere along the way, I stopped caring about fair. Started caring about winning.”
“What changed?”
“You did.”
Harlow’s breath catches.
Roman continues, “You were in that courthouse bathroom crying because I made you feel worthless. And I realized I’d become exactly the kind of lawyer I hated when I was twelve. The kind who destroys people because it’s profitable.”
“So I’m your moral awakening?”
“Something like that.”
Harlow doesn’t know what to say.
This is too much. Too honest. Too… everything.
“We should talk about something else,” she says.
“Agreed. What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. Normal things. Not the divorce. Not the case. Just… normal.”
Roman nods. “Okay. Normal. I can do normal.” He thinks for a moment. “What do you do for fun?”
“I work. That’s pretty much it.”
“You don’t have hobbies?”
“I design things. Websites, logos, brand identities. That’s kind of a hobby. Except it’s also my job. So maybe not a hobby.” Harlow takes a sip of her latte. “What about you? What does Seattle’s most ruthless divorce attorney do for fun?”
“I run. Every morning. Six miles.”
“That’s not fun. That’s self-punishment.”
Roman laughs. Actually laughs. The sound is surprising. Warm.
“Fair point,” he says. “Okay. Real hobbies. I read. Mystery novels, mostly. The terrible ones with formulaic plots and predictable twists.”
“You’re a snob about everything except books?”
“Books are for relaxing. I don’t want to think too hard.”
“What else?”
“I cook. Badly. But I try.” Roman leans back in his chair. “Last week I attempted to make carbonara and somehow ended up with scrambled eggs.”
Harlow laughs. “You’re supposed to temper the eggs slowly—”
“I know that now. Google was very judgmental about my technique.”
They’re smiling at each other.
Like normal people. Having a normal conversation. Not opposing counsel in a brutal divorce.
It feels… nice.
Dangerous. But nice.
“Your turn,” Roman says. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with Miles or the divorce.”
Harlow thinks. “I wanted to be an artist. When I was a kid. I thought I’d go to art school, paint terrible abstract pieces, live in a studio apartment in New York.”
“What happened?”
“Reality. Art school is expensive. Being an artist doesn’t pay. So I did graphic design instead. It’s practical. Profitable. But it’s not the same as creating art for the sake of art.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Sometimes. But then I remember I like having health insurance and being able to eat, so. Practical wins.”
Roman nods. “I get that. I wanted to be a public defender. Help people who couldn’t afford lawyers. But law school debt is crushing and public defenders make nothing. So I went corporate. Then divorce law. Now here I am.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Every day.”
They fall into comfortable silence.
It’s strange. They should be enemies. They are enemies, technically.
But sitting here, drinking coffee, talking about scrambled eggs and career regrets… it doesn’t feel like warfare.
It feels like connection.
“This is a bad idea,” Roman says again. But he’s not moving. Not leaving.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. We shouldn’t be here. Talking. If Miles finds out—if anyone finds out—it’ll look like I’m fraternizing with the opposition.”
“Are you? Fraternizing?”
Roman looks at her. “Yes. Absolutely. This is textbook fraternization.”
“So we should stop.”
“We should.”
Neither of them moves.
Then Harlow’s phone buzzes.
Mira: Where are you? Meeting was supposed to start 10 minutes ago.
“Shit.” Harlow stands. “I have to go. Meeting. With my lawyer. About the settlement you offered.”
“Right. Of course.” Roman stands too. “Are you going to accept it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s fair. You should take your time. Make sure it’s what you want.”
They’re standing too close. The coffee shop is small. The table is between them, but still.
Too close.
“Harlow?” Roman says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“This can’t happen again. Running into each other. Talking. If we keep doing this, it’s going to become a problem.”
“I know.”
“So we should… not do this.”
“Agreed.”
They stare at each other.
“See you in court?” Harlow says.
“See you in court.”
She leaves.
Doesn’t look back.
But she feels Roman watching her go.
And when she meets with Mira, she can barely focus on the settlement discussion because her brain is still stuck in that coffee shop.
Talking to Roman like he’s a person.
Like he’s someone she could like.
Like he’s someone she’s already falling for.
This is a disaster waiting to happen.
Roman sees Declan in the parking garage that evening.
His law partner is leaning against Roman’s car, arms crossed, expression grim.
“We need to talk,” Declan says.
Roman unlocks his car. “About?”
“About the fact that you were seen having coffee with Miles Hartford’s soon-to-be-ex-wife this afternoon.”
Roman’s stomach drops.
“Who told you that?”
“Jessica from litigation. She grabbed lunch near the courthouse. Saw you and Harlow Hartford having what looked like a very cozy conversation at some coffee shop.” Declan’s jaw is tight. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“It wasn’t planned. We ran into each other—”
“Bullshit. You don’t just ‘run into’ opposing counsel and decide to have a casual coffee chat.” Declan steps closer. “Roman, you’re already walking a tightrope with this case. You sent a settlement offer that goes against your client’s express wishes. Miles is threatening complaints. And now you’re fraternizing with his wife?”
“Ex-wife. Soon-to-be ex-wife.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re her opposition. You can’t be seen having friendly conversations with her outside of official proceedings.”
“It was one coffee. We talked for fifteen minutes.”
“That’s fourteen minutes too long.” Declan’s voice drops. “I’m saying this as your friend, not just your partner. You need to walk away from this case. From her. Before you destroy your career.”
“I’m handling it.”
“You’re clearly not. You’re compromised. Anyone can see that.”
Roman gets in his car. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Roman—”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
He drives away before Declan can say anything else.
But his partner’s words echo in his head.
You’re compromised.
He is.
He absolutely is.
Because Roman keeps thinking about Harlow. The way she laughed when he told her about the scrambled eggs. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about wanting to be an artist.
The way she looks at him like he’s more than just her ex’s lawyer.
This is dangerous.
Declan’s right. He needs to walk away. Withdraw from the case. Let Miles find new representation.
But Roman knows—absolutely knows—that if he withdraws, Miles will hire someone worse. Someone who won’t offer fair settlements. Someone who’ll destroy Harlow completely.
He can’t do that to her.
Which means he’s stuck.
Representing a client he can’t stand. Offering settlements he shouldn’t. Having coffee with the opposition because he can’t seem to stay away.
This is going to end badly.
Roman knows it.
But he can’t seem to stop.
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