8

They’d met through an online dating service. Paige later described their first date to a friend as “awkward and enchanting all at once.” Patrick was a little old-school for Paige, like he had stepped off the set of a Western where men held doors for women and protected the fairer sex. He seemed to have a simplistic view of life powered by a sense of unbridled enthusiasm for God and country, a sharp contrast with Paige’s cynical lawyer friends.

The enchanting part was his smile. He had deep-set eyes, a model’s jaw and cheekbones, and short black hair. Even if she hadn’t read his profile, Paige would have known he was military. But when he flashed that smile—and for Patrick Quillen that was a frequent occurrence—he was all Hollywood.

The other thing she liked was that Patrick, unlike the others she had met on that same dating site, didn’t try too hard to impress. He actually seemed to care more about Paige than he did about himself. It wasn’t until their third date that she learned he was a SEAL.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” she asked.

He shrugged the question off. “That’s just the way we roll.”

That same night Patrick told her about his parents, killed in a car accident when Patrick was only three. He was raised by his grandparents on a dairy farm in upstate New York. His grandmother had died from cancer just three months before Patrick headed to BUD/S.

“She was the bravest person I’ve ever known,” Patrick said. “She fought through chemo and weight loss and hair loss. I never heard her complain or get angry at God. If someone asked how she was doing, she would just say she was blessed.”

“She sounds incredible,” Paige said. “I wish I could have met her.”

“So do I,” Patrick said.

By now they had been seeing each other for a month—long enough for Paige to close her online dating account and develop real feelings for Patrick. But not long enough for him to see her at a moment of weakness like this.

They rode together down the escalator to the first floor, and he told her how impressed he was with her argument.

“Thanks. But let’s not talk about it.”

He asked her out to lunch, but she politely refused. She had too much to do, other cases that needed attention. Honestly, she just wanted to be alone and pout.

But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and the smile eventually worked its magic. They settled on a compromise. He would buy her lunch at the hot dog stand in front of the Chesapeake courthouse. She could take it back to the office and lick her wounds.

He held her briefcase while she put on her coat, helping her slip one arm in the sleeve. “Thanks,” she said. He held the door on her way out, and she braced for the January wind.

It was a bright day with a few thin clouds and a strong breeze that cut through layers of clothing. The poor guy running the hot dog stand was layered with a hooded sweatshirt inside a down jacket. Patrick ordered three dogs and grabbed two bags of chips and two drinks. He slathered mustard on his.

“Cookie?”

“No thanks.”

They walked side by side to the parking lot. “For a lawyer, you’re a cheap date,” Patrick said.

“How did you even find out about this hearing?”

“You mentioned it a few days ago. It sounded interesting. I wanted to see you in action.”

The comment made Paige smile. The guy walking next to her was a Navy SEAL. He probably wasn’t all that impressed with what her profession considered “action.”

“Not my best day,” Paige said.

“I thought you were awesome.”

Either he was trying to make her feel good, or he had been clueless during the hearing. “Except for when I missed the fact that Colson was the same judge that had written the Thornburg opinion they kept asking about.”

“I thought you handled it well,” Patrick said. “You had an answer for everything. There’s no way this case should get a new trial.”

This was part of what attracted her to Patrick. Like her, he was a crusader. There were good guys and bad guys, simple as that. In their own ways, Paige and Patrick were both doing their part. It wasn’t about the money or fame. She couldn’t imagine arguing for a criminal defendant any more than he could see fighting for ISIS.

She was already starting to feel a little better just being around him. Lunch with Patrick would beat brooding alone.

“Maybe we could eat lunch together in your truck,” Paige said. “You could give me more details about how brilliant I was and cheer me up a little.”

“Sounds like a date.”

It took him three more weeks and eight more times together—two movies, three dinners, one walk on the beach, and two seven-mile runs—before he kissed her. He did it on the same night that he told her he would be deploying in a little over a month. “Basically a cruise in the Med. Nothing dangerous.”

He was dropping her off after a date, and he walked her to the front door of her condo.

They had grown comfortable with hugs, but he had never tried to kiss her. Others from the same dating service, especially after a few drinks, had tried much more than that on the first date.

Yet on this night, just before he said good night, he gave her a hug but didn’t pull away. He gently brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and traced her cheek with his finger. She looked at him intently, her breath catching in her chest.

She closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her. And when he pulled away, his little romantic mission completed, he flashed that irresistible smile. “Was that okay?” he asked.

She could hardly breathe. Things were spinning. “It’s about time,” she said. Then she leaned in and kissed him again.

When he left that night, she stepped inside, closed the door, slumped against it, and felt her knees go weak. She smiled and slid slowly to the floor.

Get a grip, she told herself. It’s only a feeling.

But it was a feeling, and a night, that she knew she would remember for the rest of her life.