The first time, he's six years old and his dad takes him to his first game at Wrigley Field, and a foul ball goes sailing overhead, so close he can almost taste the dirt off the mound.
The second time, he's twenty-something, fresh out of law school, hungry, eager and still kind of gangly in a suit that's too big, piling on the questions in his first cross until wham - he catches the witness out, gets a nod from the judge, and saunters back to his chair feeling ten feet tall.
The third time, Alicia rolls under the sheets with him, throwing her head back with that throaty laugh she's got, the warm light catching the lines around her eyes, and he knows - this time, there's no way he can ever get any happier.
The second time, he's twenty-something, fresh out of law school, hungry, eager and still kind of gangly in a suit that's too big, piling on the questions in his first cross until wham - he catches the witness out, gets a nod from the judge, and saunters back to his chair feeling ten feet tall.
The third time, Alicia rolls under the sheets with him, throwing her head back with that throaty laugh she's got, the warm light catching the lines around her eyes, and he knows - this time, there's no way he can ever get any happier.
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