Whether it was true or not, she’d never know. She’d thought about contacting him to apologize, or to at least explain why she’d flown off the handle, but she didn’t have the courage to say the truth: that she’d finally come to terms with the idea of not becoming a parent. That she’d figured out what she wanted, which, as it turned out, was him.
Why did she have to fall for a playboy, only to have him become a family man?
She needed to put him out of her mind. She’d made the right decision. They had conflicting interests, which meant she had no choice but to invoke that escape clause. She had to preserve the business, which in this case was herself.
A light knock at her door got her attention. Cassie gave her chair a determined shove and faced her desk. “Come in.”
Elliott Schaeffer stepped into her office. “Is this a bad time?”
“Of course not, Elliott. What can I do for you?”
“You’ve done quite a lot lately, it would seem.”
If he meant Grant Books, fuck yeah she had. “Just doing my job for the firm.”
“Well, the firm would like to show you its appreciation.”
He handed her an envelope. Cassie’s pulse thumped as she took it from his outstretched hand.
“The letter is a formality. We’ll discuss the capital contribution and changes in your benefits package once you’ve officially accepted.”
She opened the envelope and read the letter addressed to Cassandra Allbright, Partner, Bankruptcy. The crisp linen paper on company letterhead was what she’d been waiting for—two decades of hard work paid off, the future she’d been working toward finally within her grasp.
So why did it feel so hollow?
“Thank you, Elliott.” Her voice sounded stiff and mechanical. “I’m honored.”
“You’ve proved yourself invaluable to the firm, Cassie. I’m sorry I told you otherwise, but it looks like that was the firecracker you needed to bring in an incredible amount of business.” He went back to the door and smiled again. “Congratulations.”
He walked out, leaving her in silence. They’d lit a fire under her ass, and she’d performed, making her rich bosses even richer for a chance at a slice of their pie. She didn’t feel like a charging bull. Didn’t feel like she’d broken through any glass ceiling. Instead, she felt trapped under it.
Was this what her grandfather had meant when he told her she’d change the world?
There was another knock at her now-open door. Cassie looked up to find Lilly and Sam standing there with eager grins.
“Is that what I think it is?” Lilly asked, pointing to the letter.
“Yup.”
She rushed into the room with a squeal and plucked it from Cassie’s hands. Sam retrieved Cassie’s coat from the hook on the back of her door.
“We’re celebrating,” she said in her usual no-nonsense attitude. “Don’t argue. We already have reservations.”
It took until they were seated and had ordered a bottle of wine for Cassie to snap into focus.
“Why did you have reservations? You didn’t know Elliott was going to talk to me today.”
Lilly didn’t say anything at first. She tugged on her braid and looked over at Sam. After a few moments of silence, Cassie couldn’t take it anymore.
“Spit it out, ladies.”
Sam tapped her fingers on her menu. “We’ve actually been planning an intervention.”
“An intervention?” Cassie’s gaze darted between the two of them. “For what?”
Lilly scrunched up her nose. “We haven’t wanted to bother you because you’ve had a lot of work to do…”
“…but?”
Sam dropped her menu and crossed her arms on the table. “What happened with Patrick in Florida, Cassie?”
It wasn’t a question. It was a strange sort of demand—calm and yet unyielding, the way Patrick was when he got her to talk. Cassie heaved a heavy sigh.
“He asked me to marry him.”
Lilly’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“And you said…”
“No, obviously.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Catch us up on the ‘obviously’ part?”
“Because he wanted kids.”
That stopped them. Lilly’s eyes went wide. “Wow. I never saw Patrick as the fathering type.”
“Neither did I.”
“And you’ve decided kids aren’t what you want,” Lilly verified.
“As it turns out, I found out last month that I’m in the early stages of menopause, so…” Cassie lifted her glass in a toast. “Decision made.”
Lilly frowned. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It wasn’t something I was ready to talk about.”
Sam leaned in closer. “Early stages doesn’t mean you can’t, right? It means that—”
“—the decision’s gotta be made now,” Cassie finished for her. “I thought about it. I watched him with my niece and asked myself if that’s what I wanted, and I don’t. I’m okay with not having kids. I’d literally just figured it out, and then he decides he wants to have a family with me.”
“Well, at least you figured it out,” Sam said. “You could’ve ended up with two kids who fight all the time and a husband who can’t remember to watch his language around them, let alone attempt to seduce you, and tries to make up for your lack of a career by getting you to publish your Instagram posts.”
She knocked back a hearty sip of wine. Cassie exchanged glances with Lilly. “You gonna need an intervention next?”
She waved them off, the tension in her expression disappearing into a smile. “Brady has good intentions. He just doesn’t know how to make me happy. But I’ve got my dirty books to keep me busy. No intervention needed.” Sam sat back in her seat. “I don’t know that Patrick is the right person for you anyway. The sex might’ve been great, but he’s still a bit of ass, no? Your classic wealthy alpha-hole?”
It was how Cassie would’ve described him before. Then she’d seen the real him.
“He comes off like that, but it’s a mask. There’s much more to him to that.” She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck.
It had felt better when Patrick did it.
“How is he?” She hated having to ask, but they were her only connection to him now.
Sam shrugged. “Brady hasn’t said anything.”
Lilly twisted her braid around her fingers. “He’s been blowing Jack off. Avoiding having to answer any questions about you, I guess.”
A part of her was happy to hear that, but knowing he was struggling too made things harder. If he’d gone back to his regularly scheduled programming, it would’ve made it easier for her to stay mad, and eventually forget about him.
“Is it the baby thing that was the problem?” Lilly asked. “Or did you not…”
“Love him?” At Lilly’s nod, Cassie replied, “I did. Still do, I guess.”
“Does he know that?”
She thought back to his face at the airport. How fucking wrecked he looked.
He’d told her he loved her.
She hadn’t said it back. She’d watched him walk away instead.
She would’ve said yes, would’ve thrown her arms around him, moved into his beautiful apartment and enjoyed everything that came with being Mrs. Patrick Dunham, if he hadn’t drawn that line in the sand.
He’d turned the corner, and she’d heard his plea from that night when they’d told each other everything—that no matter what happened, he didn’t want her to leave. But in the end, he was the one leaving. After all, it was what he was good at.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.” She raised her glass in a toast. “Today is a day to celebrate. I’m finally on the road to changing the world.”
“To changing the world,” Sam said, clinking her glass. “What’s your first order of business?”
Cassie put her glass down. Her mind was startlingly empty. “You know, I had this weird
feeling when Schaeffer gave me the envelope. Like it was…”
Lilly waited. “Was what?”
Like it was the wrong thing to do. “An empty victory.”
“It’s like I said before,” Sam said. “Laws change the world, not lawyers.” Lilly eyed her, but she ignored it. “You’ve done all this soul-searching on having kids. Are you sure partner is what you want too?”
“Of course I am.”
She was, right?
They enjoyed their meal, polishing off a second bottle of wine. After thanking her friends for caring so much about her that they’d gotten her tipsy, Cassie went for a solo walk through Boston Commons, hoping the December chill would clear her head.
As she walked along the Freedom Trail, fresh white snow crunched under her boots. The air was clean and cold, icy enough to make her eyes water when the wind hit. She breathed in deep, smelling the different scents—grilled food from restaurants bordering the park, balsam fir, the murky smell of the river and a hint of weed.
It wasn’t the bouquet she’d been hoping for.
Fishing her phone from her purse, she called her mother.
“Hola, mi vida. We haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy with work.”
“And with Patrick?”
Shit. She hadn’t told her. “Oh. No. That’s…over.”
“Oh.” The reply was followed by silence.
Cassie frowned. Why was she was calling. For approval? For a connection to her grandfather she no longer had? “I got my partner offer letter.”
“Wonderful, pero, ¿que pasó con Patrick?”
What happened with Patrick? Was that all anyone could ask her?
“I reached a major milestone in my career today,” she snapped. “Could you ask me about that before harassing me about being single again?”
“No es harassing.” Her mother sighed. “Ay, Cassie. Why is everything so difficult with you?”
She’d heard that before too.
“I’m not trying to be difficult. I just want to know why you don’t want me to succeed.”
“I do. But I want to know you’re taken care of too.”
Cassie stopped walking. “Taken care of?”
“Yes. With a nice man. And children to look after you when I’m gone.”
Oh, God. “Is that why you push it? Because you’re worried about me?”
“Of course it is.”
Tears pinched Cassie’s eyes, stinging against the frigid air. She walked up Beacon and down a side street to get out of the wind. “I don’t need a husband and kids to be taken care of, Mom. You know that, right? I can take care of myself.”
“I know. But I don’t like the idea of you all alone up there.”
“I’m not alone. I have my friends. I have—” She didn’t have Patrick. But she’d finally been in love, and was cool with who she was and what she liked, and she had him to thank for that. “—a lot of people I care about.”
“Is that enough?”
“You mean, not having children?”
“Sí.”
“I don’t need children to feel complete. If I’d wanted them, I would’ve found a way to do it by now. It’s not the right choice for me.”
“And a husband?”
“I’m still working on that part.” She held her breath, waiting for judgment. For disappointment. Sadness.
“Okay. I respect your decision. And I am proud of you.”
Cassie’s lungs released in a rush. “You are?”
“Of course. It’s a big thing, being made a partner. And I’m happy with it if you are.” She paused, so Cassie stopped moving too. “Are you happy?”
Patrick had asked her the same question at the wedding. There, she’d been sure of the answer. She was happy with him. She didn’t have him, but was she happy with her life without him?
Once upon a time, she’d felt good about her choices, felt like she was accomplishing things. At Legal Aid, when she was helping people. When she’d clerked for the justice and was a part of the lawmaking process. Then she’d been hired at the firm and started chasing numbers, waiting for the rich client who would prove her worthy to three rich men.
“Cassandra?” her mother prompted.
Cassie looked up at her surroundings. She’d stopped in front of the Massachusetts State House—the legislature building where she’d clerked.
Laws change the world, not lawyers.
“No,” Cassie said, a bit dazed. “I’m not.”
She’d gone off-track somehow, but not in the way her bosses or her mother or even she had thought. She’d put herself on this path, thinking partner was the single measure of success. She’d cut off pieces of herself in pursuit of that goal, from her hair to her Cuban side to her own desires, thinking it was the only way she could change the world.
It wasn’t.
“I’m not happy. But I know a way I can be.”
Cassie smiled, feeling…something. A calmness, an inner peace she’d been missing.
The wind shifted, and she jerked to attention. She looked around to make sure the smell wasn’t coming from anyone nearby. It wasn’t, and disappeared as quickly as it had arrived—the scent of her grandfather’s cigar.
29
Another Wednesday skipping tennis. Another Friday not chasing tail.
Patrick had dodged Jack for a second week in a row yesterday because he didn’t want to risk a discussion about Cassie. Even hearing from Hudson that she’d wrapped up his case was too much. When he’d called to gloat, Patrick was going to ask him not to mention the connection between them, but decided not to bother. There wasn’t much point now anyway.
There hadn’t been much point in hitting the bar circuit last weekend either, so he’d stayed home. Going on the prowl had always afforded him the release he’d craved, but it was nothing like being with Cassie.
And nothing was hurt as much as the feeling of her being gone. Not even when he’d lost Sofía. The comparison made him cringe.
Maybe Cassie was right—maybe what he’d wanted had nothing to do with her. Maybe the whole kids thing had been a desire to be a better parent than his own had been. Maybe it was him thinking he’d found something he’d lost in Cassie, projecting everything he’d felt years ago in Spain onto her. The big Latin family, the fast-and-furious affair…fuck, he’d done everything short of dumping his bank account and buying her a ring. He couldn’t deny the obvious parallels, but he couldn’t deny how he’d felt about Cassie either. He loved her, no matter how similar the rest of it was.
Countless women. An infinite number of sexual encounters. And there was nothing more he wanted than to wake up with her by his side. This was why he’d sworn never to fall in love again. Because waking up alone and wondering if he’d be like this for the rest of his life was no walk in the park. But this? This fucking sucked.
The early December chill ripped through him as he stepped out of the company car and into La Lutte for his Thursday lunch with his mother.
The same table. The same empty conversation. The same endless cycle of the same shit. He felt like a snake itching to shed its skin. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want this life.
They ordered, and she started talking about another charity event, another way she spent the never-ending supply of money she received as a result of his sacrifice.
He couldn’t listen to another word of it.
“I’m fine, by the way,” he said. “Thanks for asking.”
Her startled expression at his interruption irritated him even more.
“Actually no. I’m not fine,” he corrected, because why the hell not? “I’m fucking miserable. But please, go on talking about yourself.”
Her mouth opened and closed, like he’d punched her in the face with reality. “I didn’t know you were miserable.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You never ask.”
“I don’t know how to ask.” She sounded as cagey as he did. “I don’t understand you, how you are
. You act this way and I don’t know why.”
“You don’t know why.” He shook his head on a sigh. “Of course you don’t.”
He sounded unnecessarily sharp, and regret churned with frustration. This was how he always felt around her—a mix of hostility and guilt at trying to take care of a person who’d stopped trying to take care of him. A “you chose booze over me!” feeling his logical mind had fought against for years.
Fuck logic. Fuck sitting across this table and pretending he didn’t still resent her. Fuck pretending to be happy when the only person he’d given a damn about in decades had just walked out of his life.
“I’m unhappy because I’m stuck in a job I hate. Which Dad forced me into, because of you.”
She flinched. Clearly he’d cut deep, but he couldn’t stop himself. This storm had been brewing for too long—decades of anger in hibernation—and he didn’t feel like shielding her from it anymore.
His mother raised her chin. “I know.”
“What do you mean, you know?”
“I know about the will.”
Patrick froze. “You know about the will.” Repeating her words was all he could manage through the horror locking down his chest.
“I do.” She took a breath. “But there are reasons for it. Things you don’t know. Things about your father and I that happened when you were abroad.”
Two topics he could barely stomach. “I’d rather not—”
“No.” She’d never sounded so forceful. She glanced around the restaurant, threw a smile toward the maître d’. Her tone tempered, she said, “No, you need to hear this.”
“All right.” Even though he wanted to bolt out of his chair, he folded his hands and forced himself to listen.
“Your father and I married because it was advantageous. I had the connections, he had the money. I thought things between us would change eventually, but they didn’t. Not when he was always—” She pinched her lips. Swallowed. “Busy elsewhere.”
Her Claim: Legally Bound Book 2 Page 27
