Worth the Fall: A Single Dad, Romantic Comedy (Flirting with Forever Book 2)

I‘m staring at my closet for the third time this morning, discarding yet another silk blouse that’s betrayed me with sweat marks. My phone buzzes on the dresser.

I glance at the growing pile of rejected outfits on my bed, then at the clock. Forty-five minutes until I need to leave for our coffee date.

I smile at her message, grateful for this new friendship that somehow feels easy despite how recently we met. After twelve years of being surrounded by other couples, most of which I met through Cameron, it’s refreshing to have someone who’s just mine.

I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, critically examining my fourth outfit change of the morning. The navy pencil skirt and cream silk blouse had seemed perfectly professional-casual when I laid them out last night. Now they feel about as subtle as a neon sign reading ‘TRYING TOO HARD.’

‘This is just coffee,’ I mutter to my reflection, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my skirt. ‘A completely normal, professional coffee meeting to discuss a legal matter.’

The legal matter I’d completely invented in a moment of panic.

I glance at my watch, seeing it’s seven fifteen a.m. My ‘casual’ coffee meeting with Miguel isn’t until eight. I’d planned to arrive at 7:55, stride confidently through the door of Noble Coffee right as he was arriving, and… what exactly? Suddenly transform into a smooth, sophisticated woman who doesn’t trip over her own feet or ramble nervously about tort law when stressed?

Looking at my reflection again, I have to admit I look like I’m headed to argue before the Supreme Court rather than getting coffee. The bruise from the pickleball incident has mostly faded, though there’s still a slight discoloration near my temple. With a sigh, I change into my favorite work pants and a soft blue sweater that brings out my eyes. Professional enough for a morning meeting, but not screaming ‘I tried on four outfits!’

Twenty minutes later, I’m walking into Noble Coffee, my heart doing a weird flutter when I spot Miguel already seated at a corner table. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit that fits him perfectly, and there’s something so endearing about the way he’s clearly tried to tame his usually messy dark curls.

I’m so distracted by the sight of him that I don’t notice the condiment station until I back right into it, sending sugar packets and stirrers flying everywhere.

‘Oh God,’ I mutter, dropping to my knees to gather the scattered packets, praying I can salvage this situation before he notices. A pair of perfectly polished dress shoes appears in my field of vision, and I look up to find Miguel crouching beside me, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he helps clean up my mess.

‘We really need to stop meeting like this,’ he says with a grin, referencing the pickleball incident. ‘Though I have to admit, you handle chaos with impressive grace.’

I snort out a laugh before I can stop myself. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m known for. Grace under pressure.’ I reach for a sugar packet at the same time he does, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a zip of electricity up my arm, and I jerk back, knocking over the newly restocked sugar caddy.

‘Sorry!’ we both say at the same time, then laugh. The tension breaks a little, and I find myself relaxing despite my embarrassment.

‘Let me get you a coffee,’ Miguel offers once we’ve finally corralled all the wayward condiments. ‘What’s your poison?’

‘Oh, um, oat milk latte, please,’ I say, trying not to read too much into the fact that he remembered I was here to ask him about a legal matter but still arrived early too.

He returns a few minutes later with our drinks and settles into the chair across from me.

‘No protective gear today?’ he asks with a grin, gesturing to my face.

‘Thought I’d risk it,’ I reply, pleased when my voice comes out steady. ‘Though I did consider wearing a helmet.’

He laughs, and the rich sound does something to my lower belly. ‘I’m sure you would make a casual helmet look great,’ Miguel says with a wink that makes my stomach flip. ‘Though probably not as good as you looked in that purple outfit.’ Our eyes lock, lingering on each other for a few seconds. ‘I’m sorry. This is a professional meeting; I shouldn’t have said that.’ He clears his throat. ‘Speaking of, ready for my onion?’

I groan, covering my face with my hands. ‘I was hoping we could pretend that never happened.’

‘Are you kidding? That was the best legal mattress consultation request I’ve ever received.’

When I peek through my fingers, he’s watching me with those crinkled eyes that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since last weekend. I drop my hands, straightening my shoulders. ‘Well, in that case, I have plenty more autocorrect failures where that came from.’

‘Looking forward to them,’ he says softly, and suddenly the coffee shop feels much warmer. He takes a sip of his coffee—the cup looking almost delicate in his strong hands—and I try to remember that I’m a competent professional who regularly argues cases in front of judges. I can handle one coffee date with an attractive lawyer who just happens to have really, really nice hands that I can’t stop imagining sliding up my bare thighs… ‘So,’ he says, ‘what’s this professional opinion you needed?’

I stare at him blankly for a moment before remembering my text excuse. ‘Oh! Right. Yes. The opinion.’ I reach into my bag for my iPad, my mind racing. I’m about to embarrass myself spectacularly, but there’s no backing out now.

I start talking, words spilling out faster than I can control them. ‘So, it’s about my ex, Cameron. Well, not about him exactly, but he asked me to look over this contract he signed, even though I told him to get another lawyer because obviously it’s not appropriate for me to represent him anymore after everything…’ I feel my cheeks heating up as I realize I’m rambling. ‘Sorry, you don’t need to know all that.’

Miguel leans forward slightly, his expression softening. ‘Hey, it’s okay. Take your time.’

I take a deep breath and pull up the contract on my iPad. ‘There’s this clause I’m concerned about. I mean, I know it’s basic contract law, but I wanted a second opinion, especially since these are financial contracts and well, you’re in that field now…’ I turn the screen toward him, watching as he scans the document with practiced ease.

He chuckles at first, probably thinking I’m joking about needing help with something this straightforward. But then his expression shifts, brow furrowing as he notices what I’d spotted earlier. ‘Wait a minute,’ he says, pulling the iPad closer. ‘Have you looked at section 4.3 in relation to the termination clause?’

My heart skips for an entirely different reason now. ‘That’s exactly what I was worried about. The way they’ve structured it creates this massive loophole⁠—’

‘Which could essentially invalidate the entire noncompete agreement,’ he finishes, looking up at me with newfound professional respect. ‘Good catch. Does his new lawyer know about this?’

I bite my lip. ‘That’s part of the problem. He hasn’t actually retained new counsel yet. He keeps saying he doesn’t trust anyone else to look out for his interests like I did. Any chance I could recommend him your way?’ I laugh nervously but he shrugs.

‘I mean, yeah, I guess I would probably be a better option for him now that I’m at Blake Financial.’

‘Twelve years together, and apparently I’m still cleaning up his messes.’ The words taste bitter in my mouth.

Miguel’s expression darkens slightly at that, and I immediately regret bringing up my relationship history. But instead of the awkward platitudes I’m used to receiving, he simply says, ‘That’s not your responsibility anymore.’

Something about the quiet certainty in his voice makes my throat tight. And the way his eyes feel like they’re staring straight through me, causes my thighs to squeeze together beneath the table.

I’m not surprised my body is having such a visceral reaction to a man who looks like he walked off the cover of a romance novel. But what I don’t expect is how he weaves small jokes into our conversation like we’ve bantered for years, how his eyes never leave mine as he speaks, how he somehow makes discussing legal precedent feel like the most natural conversation in the world.

We fall into easy conversation, discovering we both grew up in the Chicagoland area, though me in the city and he in the suburbs. He tells me about his recent switch to Blake Financial as one of their lead counsel, and I find myself sharing more than I planned about my own career path at Harrison & Brooks.

‘So, that’s why you were reviewing your ex’s contract?’ he asks, and I’m surprised to find that hearing Cameron mentioned doesn’t bring the usual ache.

‘Yes, though after his spiritual awakening, I’m not sure traditional contract law applies anymore. Apparently, Mercury retrograde is a force majeure event now.’

Miguel’s laugh draws glances from nearby tables. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘I wish. He tried to sage my office the other day. Called it ‘cleansing the negative vibrations.’ I was shocked it didn’t set off the fire alarm; although, my poor assistant Linda almost had an asthma attack.’

‘Okay, you win. That beats my ex-wife running off with the neighbor.’

I nearly choke on my coffee. ‘Seriously?’

‘Well, technically he was the neighbor who used our pool without permission, but it has a better ring to it the other way.’ His eyes crinkle with amusement. ‘Though explaining to the HOA why several Adirondack chairs ended up in the pool was probably the low point.’

There’s hurt there, I can tell, but he talks about it with a kind of grace I’m still working toward. ‘How do you do that?’ I ask before I can stop myself.

‘Do what?’

‘Talk about it so… easily.’

He’s quiet for a moment, considering. ‘I have a five-year-old daughter who thinks everything can be fixed with princess stickers and chocolate milk. Makes it hard to stay bitter when your life is full of glitter and sticky hugs.’

The way his eyes soften when he mentions his daughter makes my heart do a complicated flip. ‘Is that why you have…’ I gesture to his casual Saturday outfit, where tiny sparkles catch the light.

He grins, brushing at the glitter. ‘Fantasy Friday at preschool. I’m told it’s a very important event. Though I have to admit, walking into a board meeting yesterday covered in glitter wasn’t exactly how I planned to make my mark at the new job.’

Just then, his phone starts buzzing with a video call. He glances at the screen and his expression shifts slightly. ‘I’m sorry, it’s my ex-wife. I should probably take this—it might be about Felicity.’

‘Of course,’ I say, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest at the mention of his ex-wife.

He answers the call, and I can hear a woman’s voice coming through clearly. ‘Miguel, did you remember to pack Felicity’s pink tutu? She’s insisting she needs it for dance class.’

‘Celine, I packed everything on the list you sent,’ Miguel responds, his tone professional but with an edge I hadn’t heard before. ‘Including the tutu.’

‘And her special hair clips? You know she won’t wear any others.’

‘Yes, and the hair clips.’ He catches my eye and mouths ‘sorry’ with an apologetic smile.

I wave off his apology, trying to look understanding while my mind races. His ex-wife sounds stunning. I know it’s weird to say without seeing someone, but you can just hear the class and sophistication in her voice. I can’t help but picture one of those socialites who always has the newest designer bag and an impossibly thin frame that somehow looks good in everything.

‘Who’s that?’ Celine suddenly asks.

‘I’m in the middle of a meeting,’ Miguel says firmly. ‘Was there anything else about Felicity’s things?’

‘A meeting? On Saturday?’ There’s a pause. ‘Oh. OH. I see.’

‘Goodbye, Celine,’ Miguel says, ending the call. He turns back to me with an apologetic expression. ‘I’m so sorry about that.’

‘Don’t be,’ I say quickly. ‘She seems like a very involved mother.’

‘That’s one word for it. Though I suppose I should be grateful she insists on triple-checking anything I do regarding our daughter. God knows I could use the help.’ He smiles and I catch a flick of tiredness in his expression. ‘Still, even after all of it, I’m more than happy to have multiple discussions about tutus instead of throwing more furniture in the pool.’

The comment startles a laugh out of me, breaking the tension. ‘I have to admit, I’m really curious about this pool furniture story.’

‘It’s a long story,’ he says with a grin. ‘Maybe for next time?’

My heart does that flip thing again at ‘next time.’ ‘I’d like that.’

‘Me too,’ he says softly, and suddenly the coffee shop feels very small and very warm.

‘So,’ I say, trying to redirect my thoughts from how nice his smile is, ‘what’s your most ridiculous case?’

He leans back, running a hand through his hair. ‘Oh, that’s easy. Had a divorce case where both parties were fighting over custody of their social media accounts. Not the business ones—their joint personal Instagram. They’d been posting as a couple for so long, neither one wanted to give up the followers.’

I laugh. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘I wish. Spent three hours in mediation discussing who had the right to post their wedding photos. The husband insisted he ‘brought more aesthetic value’ to their grid.’

‘That’s actually impressive,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Though I did once have to argue about whether a comma in a contract was actually a smudge on the paper, so…’

‘No way.’

‘Yes way. Two companies, millions of dollars at stake, and it all came down to whether there was a comma after ‘hereinafter.”

His eyes crinkle with amusement. ‘And?’

‘It was chocolate. Someone had been eating a candy bar while reviewing the contract.’

We both burst out laughing, drawing glances from nearby tables. It feels good to laugh like this, I realize. Easy.

‘Okay,’ he says, still chuckling, ‘but have you ever had to explain to a judge why your client’s emotional support peacock should be allowed in the courtroom?’

‘You did not.’

‘I did. His name was Herbert.’

‘The judge?’

‘The peacock.’

This sets us off again, and I have to put down my coffee cup to avoid spilling it. When we finally catch our breath, Miguel wipes his eyes and says, ‘So, what’s your worst first date story? Can’t be worse than mine.’

‘Oh? Do tell.’

He groans dramatically. ‘Picture this: I decide to impress this woman by taking her rock climbing. Indoor gym, totally safe. Except I didn’t know she was allergic to the chalk they use and neither did she. One handhold in, she starts sneezing. By the time she’s a third up the wall, she’s hacking uncontrollably. She insisted that she could finish and kept going. Finally, the guy assisting her made her come back down. Her eyes were so swollen shut she couldn’t see, so she knocked over a display of rental shoes, setting off a chain reaction that ended with me falling into the kids’ ball pit. Still had chalk in my ears three days later.’

I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt, but then he asks, ‘What about you? Worst first date?’

I feel my cheeks warm as I shrug shyly. ‘I don’t really have many to choose from. I started dating Cameron when I was fifteen, so…’ I trail off, then brighten. ‘Oh! I did go on a date with Austin a few weeks ago.’

Miguel’s eyebrows rise. ‘Austin? My Austin?’ He shakes his head. ‘Not my Austin but my boss Austin?’

‘Yeah.’ I laugh nervously. ‘One date that made it very clear we were meant to be only friends. He’s actually been great through everything with Cameron.’

‘I know,’ Miguel says with a grin. ‘He told me about your date. Hope that’s okay.’

‘Of course,’ I say, surprised to find that it really is okay. ‘Though I hope he left out the part about the snotty, crying breakdown and running off to the bathroom incident?’

‘There was a snotty bathroom incident?’

‘And that’s all you’re getting out of me,’ I say primly, making him laugh again.

‘Thank you for this,’ he says, gesturing between us. ‘It’s nice to have a conversation that doesn’t involve princess stickers or pool furniture litigation.’

‘Well, it’s nice to have a conversation that doesn’t involve Mercury being in retrograde making your business decision.’

‘Touché,’ he says with a smile.

‘Well, I don’t want to take up your entire morning and looks like we’ve both finished our coffee.’

He nods and we both stand, dropping our empty cups into the trash as we step outside onto the sidewalk. I don’t really have anywhere to be and I’m suddenly kicking myself for suggesting that we end the date.

‘I had a great time, I, uh, hope I was able to provide something more valuable than just glitter and silly lawyer stories.’

‘I think I can handle a little bit of glitter,’ I say.

‘Good to know.’ He steps closer, and for a moment I think he might kiss me. Instead, he reaches out and gently brushes something from my shoulder. ‘Though I should warn you, the glitter tends to spread.’

I look down and sure enough, there’s a sparkly dusting on my shoulder. ‘I can think of worse things,’ I say, meeting his eyes.

His smile softens. ‘Me too. And just so you know, I’m free for any future legal mattress consultations. Especially if they involve coffee.’

I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Though I should warn you, my autocorrect is still a liability.’

‘I’m willing to take that risk if you are.’

Miguel opens the door of the Uber for me, his hand lightly brushing my elbow as he steadies me. “Let me know when you get home, okay?” he says, his voice soft but firm, like he’s back in lawyer mode but can’t quite help being a gentleman.

I nod, my chest warm from how much care he’s putting into this small moment. “I will. Thanks again for the coffee. And, you know… for your onion.”

His grin is quick and boyish, making me wish I’d said something less ridiculous. “Anytime. Have a safe ride, Mia.”

As I slide into the seat, he closes the door behind me with a quick wave. For the first time in months, the flutter in my chest feels like possibility rather than panic.

The driver pulls away slowly, and I glance over my shoulder, unable to resist one last look. Miguel is heading toward his car, his long strides relaxed and confident, his sleeves still rolled up like he doesn’t care that there’s a little nip in the air.

That’s when I see her.

She steps into view from the far side of the parking lot, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She’s tall, with sleek platinum hair cascading down her back, the kind of woman who looks like she belongs on the cover of a luxury lifestyle magazine.

My stomach clenches as I watch her approach him. She lifts a hand, calling his name—or at least, I think she does. Miguel stops and turns toward her, his posture shifting slightly as if her presence is familiar.

They exchange a few words I can’t hear, and then she reaches out, lightly touching his arm. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans closer, his expression softening in a way I hadn’t seen even when we were joking in the coffee shop.

“Everything okay back there?” the driver asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror as I crane my neck and press my face against the glass trying to get another look at them.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, sitting back and forcing myself to look away. “Totally fine, just thought I saw Taylor Swift,” I laugh, trying to play it off.

But it’s not fine.

As the car merges into traffic, my eyes keep flicking back toward the rear window, even though I can’t see him anymore.

Who is she? A client? A friend? Someone he forgot to mention?

My phone buzzes in my lap.

I stare at the message, the giddy feeling I’d had just minutes ago now replaced with a knot in my chest. I try to shake the thought, reminding myself that he and I aren’t in a relationship…we aren’t even really friends.

I hit send and drop my phone into my bag, leaning my head against the window as the city blurs past. For all the warmth Miguel made me feel earlier, I can’t shake the image of that woman—the ease of her laugh, the way he didn’t seem to mind her touch.

Maybe my doubts are right. Maybe I’m not ready for this after all…or maybe he’s not.

I set my phone aside, forcing myself to keep smiling. Because even if it’s complicated, even if I’m not ready for something serious—there will definitely be a next time.

I try letting myself feel the flutter of possibility, the excitement of something new. And if that something new happens to come with a sprinkling of glitter, drama and the world’s most adorable autocorrect fails?

Well, maybe that’s exactly how it should be.