by Lisa Lace
“You got little over a month on your deadline, son. What’s the problem? You want out sooner?”
“No, I want in. All in.”
Walter sits up and folds his hands in front of him. “You what?” He turns his ear toward me as if he hasn’t heard me clearly.
“I want her. I love her, and I want to stay married.”
A slow smile spreads across his wrinkled face. “You got it bad, huh? She feel the same way?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I think so. I can’t be sure.”
“Well, you have to be sure about something like this.” Walter drags out his words. “You make this permanent, and she’s only halfway invested, and you’re in for a heap of trouble.”
“It’s not a business arrangement. Not anymore. It’s not an investment, it’s a marriage.”
“Well, that’s not what you said to me before, and that’s definitely not what you two signed off on.”
I grit my teeth. “I know.”
“So, what do you want me to do? I’m a lawyer, not a magician.”
“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”
“At my age, you have to get your kicks where you can.” Walter chuckles.
“So can you do some lawyer magic?”
I must look hopeless, because after studying my face, Walter nods. “I’ll see what I can do. You tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll work out the details and let you look it over. Next week okay?”
“No, I need it by this afternoon.”
“You’re out of your damn mind.”
“Today, please.”
“I’ll have to clear my whole schedule,” Walter grumbles.
“Give your smaller stuff to your junior partners.”
“The secret behind my success is that I handle all my own business. Can’t trust anyone these days.”
“Which is why I hired you in the first place,” I interrupt. “And it’s why I’m your top-paying client. So, please. Can you do it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Top-paying, but most impatient.”
“You got me there.” I grin. I get up and stick out my hand for him to shake, and he gives it a hard clasp before waving me out.
“If you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
“I’ll tell Norma to expect you, and she’ll clear up my schedule for whenever you can make it.”
“Sure.” Walter waves me away again. “Shoo. I can’t work with you breathing down my neck. Besides, you have your own work cut out for you, convincing that girl to stay with your stubborn ass.”
I leave his office feeling lighter than I have in weeks. This is going to work. I know I can convince Laura—if not with my words, then maybe with my lips.
Once I’m in my office, I let Norma know Walter has top priority today before heading into the conference room for the morning meeting.
Sam tips his chin up at me, and I nod back. We haven’t been able to spend much time together, and I know it’s my fault. After returning from my trip, I’ve been pursuing Laura single-mindedly. Sam’s attempted to schedule some downtime with me, but I keep finding excuses not to join him. We see each other often enough in the office, but that’s different. I make a mental note to ask him to have lunch with me tomorrow since he has an appointment today. It’s time we had a talk—brother to brother.
After the meeting, the rest of the afternoon passes with surprising quickness. I feel productive, and I tackle things that I’ve been unable to address for the past week.
“Max?” Norma’s voice interrupts a phone call. “Walt’s here.”
“I’ll call you back.” I end the call abruptly and tell Norma to send him in.
“You might as well call in your girl,” Walter says, pushing a file toward me. “Just so you know, I worked through lunch, so this better be worth it.”
“I appreciate you, Walter.” I clap him on the back before thumbing through the file.
“Of course, you do,” he grumbles. His slight smile betrays his attitude.
“Norma, could you get my wife for me?”
“Sure,” Norma says.
A few minutes later, Laura walks in and stops when she sees Walter. “Oh.”
“Hey, have a seat.” I pull my chair out for her and offer it to her.
“That’s okay, I’ll sit here.” She smooths her skirt under her before sitting gingerly on the edge of a seat by Walter.
Walter gives me a doubtful look. He’s right. I’ve talked to Laura about this before, but only in vague terms. Now that I’m armed with the paperwork she’ll know I’m serious.
“Walter, could you give us a minute?”
“Of course.” He nods to Laura and gives her a pat on the back before closing the door behind himself.
Laura clears her throat. “Is this about wrapping things up? Are we doing this now? I thought we were going to wait a few weeks.”
“Remember when I asked you if you wanted to make this situation more permanent?”
“Yes, but—”
“I had Walter draw up the papers, and I want you to look them over. You and I make a great team. We belong together.”
After I thrust the papers into her lap, Laura doesn’t say anything. She looks through them, but given how fast she’s going through them, I don’t think she’s reading the words on the page.
“Max.” She looks up at me. There’s a distant look in her eyes that I can’t place. “I accepted that job in Milan.” She pauses and looks down at the papers again.
“I know, but it’s just temporary, right? We can figure something out.”
“No, it’s not temporary.” She doesn’t look up. Her fingers are clutching the stack of papers, crumpling one side of them.
“You accepted a permanent position? When were you going to tell me?” A mix of emotions run through me. More than anything, I feel betrayed. As many times as we slept together after I returned, she never shared anything with me except that she was going to go back for another opportunity. She never said it was permanent. I also feel stupid for not asking her more about it. If she accepted the permanent position, I know she doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about her.
“I didn’t think it mattered.” She raises the stack of papers in the air for emphasis. “After this was over, what difference would it have made to you?”
A sharp pain in my chest comes suddenly, and I want to be alone. Laura gets up as if sensing it, and she leaves the papers on my desk. Crossing to the door, she pauses without looking back. “I’m sorry.”
I’m staring out the window when I hear the door close behind her.
Laura
It’s been six weeks since I left New York. There is plenty to be thankful for in Milan. It’s beautiful, the people are wonderful, and there is so much to see and do.
It’s a shame that I go home and cry every night and spend an hour in front of the mirror in the morning to cover up the bags that have formed under my eyes. Makeup can only do so much. I had several people ask me if I’m still dealing with jet lag during the first couple of weeks. I told them I was because it was easier than explaining that I miss my husband, who will soon be my ex-husband. I’ve since had to retire that excuse.
When Max showed me the new contract he had drawn up, I felt so disappointed, I couldn’t even read it. Everything that we’ve shared and done hasn’t meant anything to him.
His words still echo in my mind. You and I make a great team. That’s all this was about to him—a partnership, void of any real emotions. Later that week, Max brought it up to me again, and I stopped him before he could make it worse.
“Let’s just enjoy what time we have left. We make a good team in bed and should keep it at that. Why complicate things more?”
Max didn’t like what I had to say, but he agreed it was for the best.
The last few times we slept together were intense and bittersweet. I’d never felt so fulfilled yet torn apart at the same time. I held myself together every night until he went to slee
p before letting the tears flow freely in the sterile bathroom. I’ve never experienced such intense feelings about anything before.
It was inevitable. Riley called me several times in the days before I left, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet with her. I knew she would try to convince me to stay with Max at any cost. She believes that he cares for me deeply, but she doesn’t understand that an extended contract is still a contract, not an authentic marriage. In her mind, we have all the makings of a marriage and we essentially just need to fill in the blanks. From the outside, I’m sure it appears that way, but it is so far from the truth.
It’s the end of another long day, made longer by the hours I’ve set for myself. I come in early and leave late: partly because there’s so much work to be done, but mostly because it leaves me less time to wallow at the flat. I’ve made a lot of work acquaintances, but I’ve declined every offer to hang out with any of them afterward. I don’t have any desire to see anyone or share in their joy. It’s a stab in the heart every time I see a happy couple walking hand in hand or sharing a brief kiss in the streets.
Dropping my bag on the entry table, I kick the door closed and look around the small flat. I chose this location because it’s close to work, and it’s small so I won’t feel the need to fill up empty areas. As far as furniture goes, I have one bed, a table to eat on, and one chair to sit on. That’s all that came with the apartment, and I chose not to get anything extra.
I’ve had little conversation with Max in over a month, aside from quick check-ins with him about Bella. I miss her sweet face every morning, but I know this is for the best. She will adjust, like she’s always adjusted, and Max will help her do so because he’s a terrific father. I’m not meant to be in that picture, I remind myself.
My phone buzzes. I ease my heels off and flex my feet before grabbing the mobile and settling on the bed.
It’s Riley. She left a voicemail. I call her back, eager to hear a familiar voice.
“Hey, I was worried I’d never hear from you again after you became a hotshot in the fashion world—and maybe even less after that!” Riley’s cheerful tone makes me smile.
“You’re too sweet. I miss you. I wish you were here.”
“Me? You know I’d be nagging you to try all those samples, even if the sample sizes aren’t forgiving of my figure.”
“You nag me now, and you’re not even here,” I joke.
“True, true,” Riley muses. “So? How are you?”
“I’m great. Everything here is so amazing. The opportunities are endless, and the people are fantastic.”
“A lot of positive adjectives in your sentence,” Riley points out. “Makes your statement sound over the top. You want to rephrase that because I kinda don’t believe you. No one likes their new job that much right off the bat.”
“It is amazing!” I insist. “You know I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
“Yeah, I know. And I also know how heartbroken you were before you left. That stuff doesn’t just heal itself.”
I sigh. “You know what happened. There’s nothing left for me there. I need to move on. And you can help me by not bringing it up and being happy for me.”
“You want me to be part of your denial? I can do that if you want.” I hear her slurping a drink. “As long we’re both honest about what we’re doing here. I don’t want you blaming me later for encouraging you to walk away without looking back at least once.”
“I’m not going to blame you.”
“You know he’s miserable, right? I’ve never seen him like this.”
“You weren’t even there when he and his first wife divorced. How can you compare?”
“He had a child with her—you know that had to be tough. You two had something that was supposed to end like this, and yet he’s moping around the office, not even coming in some days. I talked to Sam, too. He’s not giving me much information, but from what I can gather, he’s not happy. Oh, except about one thing!”
“What?” I sit up, intrigued. “Did that deal go through? The one that was in the works on the west coast?”
“Girl. No. You’re worse than him sometimes. Remember Sandy? She’s gone for good. Out of the picture, bye-bye—you get the drift.”
“Really? How? And why didn’t you lead with that?”
“Well, I guess that day you confronted her, Max went back and talked to Human Resources to give his side of the story. They looked into the dates, and nothing matched up. She flip-flopped on her dates and details in her story before settling on one date, and when they checked the cameras, they were in the room together, but nothing happened. In fact, it doesn’t even look like they’re talking.”
Relief washes over me, and I wish I’d been there when Max found out he was cleared of any wrongdoing. “That’s wonderful news.”
“Tell me about it. Sam told me how happy Max was. Max told him that he was in the clear faster because you brought up the cameras before anyone thought to check. He said he completely forgot he had surveillance threaded through the building for security because they never had a need to look through tapes.”
“They would have figured it out sooner or later.”
“Sooner is better than later in this kind of situation. The recordings erase and start fresh every ninety days.”
I shudder at the idea that Max would have something like that hanging over him. It must have hurt him to have me accuse him of being in a relationship with Rebecca when it was the furthest thing from the truth. I don’t want to think about him, though.
This is why I was avoiding Riley, she knows how to steer the conversation to the exact thing that’s bothering me, and she doesn’t let up until she’s hammered out a solution. “Thanks for helping me not think about him.”
“Fine. Have it your way. I’ll join you under your rock. What fashion-forward trends should I be looking into?”
After I hang up with her, I change into pajamas and examine the contents of the small fridge. Nothing looks appealing, so I shut the door and crawl back into bed. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not immersed in work, but not having much of an appetite is a new problem that I’m not prepared for. For the first time in my life, I have to force down my food to make sure I have enough energy for the day.
Snuggling down under the comforter, I’m reminded how lonely I am without Max lying next to me. I miss the comfort of his soft snoring more than I thought I would.
Riley made a point to insert her opinion again before she hung up. “You’re going to regret this. You should tell him how you feel.”
“He doesn’t want that. He decided he would change up the contract, but that’s it. There’s still no room for any feelings in the relationship.”
“Bullshit. He’s an idiot for phrasing it like that, don’t get me wrong. But you’re equally to blame if you can’t see what he’s trying to do.”
“I can’t talk about this anymore.” I ended the conversation soon after that, feigning a yawn. I can’t allow myself to believe that Max feels anything for me beyond what he’s shown. It’s a rabbit hole that will be impossible to pull myself from. It’s easier this way. Cleaner and far more efficient.
I made it through a difficult breakup before, and I can do it again. The problem is that last time seemed so much easier. I remember staying busy and crying off and on, but it was nowhere near the level of devastation I feel now.
The next day, I wake up a little later than usual, but with the same feeling hanging over me. The sky is overcast as if it senses my mood.
I want to be back in New York again, waking up Bella, cuddling with her before giving her a bath and getting her ready for the day. It’s past midnight there, so I can’t talk to her. Thus far, I’ve used the time difference as my excuse for not calling. Being a bright girl, she’s understood my reasoning, but it doesn’t make my guilt go away.
I know the real reason I don’t want to talk to her as much. I don’t want her to become reliant on me anymore, but I c
an’t bring myself to stop talking to her cold-turkey either. I miss everything about her, even her little hunger-pang and sleep-induced mood swings.
After my lengthy morning routine to make myself presentable, I go into the office with a smile pasted on my face. The less people know about me, the easier it will be for me to function. I don’t need other people feeling sorry for me or asking for updates. I’ve vowed to keep things friendly but professional with everyone, and I intend to keep it that way.
“You’re here late!” Diana, one of the other designers, rushes up to me. “You won’t believe who’s here!”
“Who?” I shuffle through the mail that came in late yesterday. I spy a purple postcard and pull it out first. It’s from Bella. There are no words written on it, but there is a picture of what appears to be the two of us drinking tea, and she’s drawn a border of hearts around her drawing. My eyes well up with tears. I turn away so Diana doesn’t witness my blubbering.
She doesn’t notice my distress and continues to babble about the visitor. I need to use the restroom to compose myself. I make an excuse about my bra needing an adjustment and make a beeline for the ladies’ room. There, I allow myself a few tears without messing up my makeup. If I’m going to do this, I have to be strong. A purple postcard shouldn’t hold the power to make me collapse, dammit.
I emerge from the restroom composed, but still feeling vulnerable.
“There you are.” Diana sidles up to me again. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She guides me into the main design room, where a tall blonde is surrounded by the office crowd. I hear impressed murmurs and eager questions being directed at her. She turns her face to a woman who’s asked her something, and I freeze. Rebecca.
Diana is still tugging at my arm, but I’m not budging. Okay, this is it. I don’t think Max did anything with her, so what I’m feeling is jealousy. I can do this. I can conquer this too. I need to cut loose any hold that he has over me and be done with it. I’m not jealous, because I have no reason to be, and furthermore, no right to be. End of story.
