Six weeks sounded manageable until you were living inside them.
From the outside on Reyes's legal calendar, in Reeves's preparation schedule, six weeks was sufficient. Forty-two days to build a case that would dismantle a decade of Victor Hale's construction in a federal courtroom.
From the inside, six weeks was simply life.
And life, I was discovering, was considerably more dangerous to my self-management than any crisis had been.
The pattern established itself in the first week without either of us designing it.
I was in the library by seven. Coffee was always waiting because Adrian ran first and returned by six forty-five and made it before I emerged, and neither of us had discussed this or agreed to it. It simply happened with the logic of two people whose routines had quietly
