"Going into surgery intoxicated isn’t a joke! Do you know how long you could be imprisoned for?"

Her words don’t weigh down on me. I’m more interested in the raging sparks that keep forming in her eyes. As you can probably tell I’ve been hitting the bottle pretty hard lately. Well that just may be an understatement. "You’re lucky I caught you before surgery, and that I was the first to notice!" A shrug of my shoulders and a small grunt is my only reply.

"I don’t understand this." Spencer says, finally getting back into the conversation. "Yeah, well you wouldn’t." I say, a bitter tone filling my voice. "I wouldn’t understand?" I turn towards her, looking her square in the eyes before responding with a simple; "Nope." I say thinking back to the death that put all of this in motion.

"But I do Ashley. I get that you’re still upset over losing that patient, I get it." I stare into her striking blue eyes. "You can’t get it; you’ve never been the cause of someone else’s death!" She leans back into the professional looking white couch that rests in the corner of Paula’s office.

"Oh, and losing a case involving the death penalty doesn’t compare to you’re to your experience at all." I stare back over to Paula for a few moments letting my mind wrap around her words. It doesn’t take long before I come to the conclusion that it’s nothing alike. Not being able to defend your clients sufficiently isn’t the same as what had happened to me.

"Nope, doesn’t compare." I say plainly, not even pretending to care. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as she stands, grabbing her things along the way. "You are such a fucking hypocrite." It takes me all of five seconds to figure out what she’s talking about. My mind instantly goes back to that day on the beach when she told me her problems didn’t compare to mine. The day that I snapped and refused to talk to her for weeks.

**************

"You walk around like your so high and mighty, but I see through you Ashley Davies. You’re nothing more than a lying hypocritical whore." I say as I grab my bag, and sling it over my shoulder. I throw the door open so hard it hits the concrete wall behind it and bounces forward a few feet, my foot blocking it from colliding with my body. "Oh, and the next time you wind up in court you can find someone else to defend your sorry ass."

I storm out of the room, forgetting all about my mother’s presence. As I storm through the main lobby I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. No doubt they had heard my last sentence, declaring Ashley Davies a whore. Now that wasn’t necessarily true. Ashley really wasn’t a whore, she hadn’t done anything to be classified as that, but hey, in the heat of the moment I speak before my brain can think.

I storm into the parking lot it search of Aiden’s silver Mercedes. I spot it, thankful he and I had made lunch plans. Before I can make my way across the parking lot he puts his car into gear and appears in front of me. It takes him mere seconds to realize I’m pissed off.

"What happened?" He asks, genuine concern filling his voice.

"Ashley." I state plainly. "I’m done Aiden. Seriously I’m done chasing her around its been eight fucking months, and instead of her sorrow slowly turning to acceptance its turned into bitchiness that I can’t deal with. I’m too old for this and I have not one ounce of patience left in me. She’s selfish, and I can’t deal with her shit anymore." I let out a deep sigh, and slip into the car.

"I’m moving on, away from her, and all the drama she brings." And right now in this moment I mean it.