And now, I have to truly wonder… have I inadvertently taught Gabe something wrong by my actions? I’m very careful not to bash Marissa or let Gabe know we have our differences. I mean, he’s a smart kid and he’s savvy, so I know he picks up on some stuff, but I absolutely refuse to fight with her in front of him. I’ve been protecting Gabe in that way.
But what about the things he doesn’t see? Is it harmful that he sees a father that is emotionally closed off from women? What am I teaching him by not having a stable relationship with someone? How will he even know what love looks like if I don’t show him?
My office door opens and closes, and I know Mac is gone. I stumble back from the window and fall into my chair, my heart sick that maybe I’ve fucked up a lot more than just my own sex life, all because I was trying to protect myself.
I sit there for a long time, staring out the window and thinking about Mac… about Gabe… about Cal and Marissa. I turn my attention to many of the things that I’ve been refusing to give a moment’s attention to because it was just too hard.
Because I was too afraid of getting hurt.
A lot of good the avoidance has done for me. Because I fucking hurt pretty bad right now.
Chapter 33
This week could not get any worse. It started off with Mac walking out of my office… out of my life, and it went downhill from there.
Every night, I went home and drank myself to sleep. Every morning, I’d come into the office, growling at anyone that dared to even look at me, and would slam my office door with enough force and noise that no one would bother me. I had two motions hearings, one of which I lost, and then I lost my temper with the judge who, as a result, threatened to put me in jail. I just sneered at him and waited for him to do his worst. He denied my motion and then promptly dismissed me.
That little loss resulted in me yelling at one of the paralegals as she loitered in the lobby as I was walking back into the office from court. She was leaning across the reception desk, chatting with Bea.
“If you don’t have anything better to do than sit around and gossip all day, I’m sure I can find someone else to do your job,” I had snarled at the girls.
They both jumped as if struck by a lightening bolt, with them both stuttering out apologies and then scrambling back to work.
Mid-week, Kylie went ahead and made her move on me, and it wasn’t subtle. We were in her office, sitting side by side at her small worktable, going over exhibits. She fucking reached her hand out and put it between my legs, cupping my dick, which embarrassingly for her, stayed soft. Not embarrassingly to me, because I couldn’t give a fuck. If I can’t get it up for Mac, I really don’t feel like getting it up for anyone at this point.
I stayed soft, even after she tried to stroke me to life.
It was comical actually… watching her as she stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration, trying to figure out why I wasn’t getting hard. When she finally stopped her rubbing, she looked up at me and blanched when she saw the anger on my face.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out as she jerked her hand away. “I thought… I just… I figured if I…”
“I don’t think I need to tell you how inappropriate that was,” I said quietly, my voice rippling with menace.
“No, of course not. I guess I got some mixed signals—”
“There were no fucking mixed signals, Kylie.”
Her face went beet red, and she started stammering more apologies. I was so pissed, mainly because after having her cup my package, it made me realize how much I missed Mac’s hands between my legs and that amped up my overall crappy attitude even further.
I simply got up and stormed out of her office, and I haven’t seen or talked to her since. I should probably fire her, but I can’t seem to get up the energy to have to face her at this point. Maybe I’ll just have Bill handle it.
This morning, I took a decisive step in trying to set my life back in order again. I fucked things up with Mac for good, which is not surprising, seeing as how my head is still all sorts of fucked up where she’s concerned. I’m thinking I’ve made a monumental mistake where she’s concerned, but I’m not sure how to fix it.
If I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I want to fix it. Right now, misery seems to be the best company for me. It’s certainly no more than I deserve.
So my decisive step was in the form of an email to Mac. So far, we have successfully avoided each other this week, but that’s only because both of us have been trying really hard to stay out of each other’s way. We can’t keep taking alternate routes to the break room and doing all communication through email. That’s no type of working relationship, so I decided to remove that problem.
My email to Mac this morning was simple.
Mac,
In an effort to help with the burgeoning increase in complex business cases, you are being transferred into that division under the general supervision of Bill Crown. Obviously, you will still work on the Jackson case since the clients are attached to you, but John Casting will act as your co-counsel and immediate supervisor. You can direct any and all questions to him. Finally, with the addition of Kylie Wynn to the Pearson appeal, I will not need your help on that case further.
I wish you the best of luck with these new endeavors, and I’m sure you’ll be a successful member of the complex business litigation team.
Sincerely,
Matthew Connover
That should help both of us move forward. I was sure it was the best thing for both of us. In fact, I had even talked myself into believing that this is really what Mac would want, and she’d be grateful for the reprieve.
I swear… there was absolutely no part of me that was secretly hoping she’d barge into my office after reading it and demand for me to take it back. Then she’d demand for me to kiss her… then maybe fuck her, and all would be right with us again.
Nope. No part of me that was hoping for that.
“I have some inner-office mail for you, Mr. Connover,” I hear from my doorway. It was one of several young interns we employ that do menial tasks, one of which is to ferry documents back and forth among the attorneys in the firm.
I hold my hand out to him, taking the stack and not saying a word. He quietly leaves as I flip through the stuff, seeing nothing that looks urgent.
That is until I see an envelope that says, “Matthew Connover” on the front.
The hair stands up on the back of my neck because I know… feel it in my bones, that whatever is inside is not good. In fact, I’m thinking it’s very, very bad.
Opening it up, I pull out a single sheet of paper with typewritten words on it. Smoothing it out on my desk, I read it.
Dear Matt:
Please accept this as my letter of resignation. While I have enjoyed my time here at Connover & Crown and have learned many things, I feel it is time for me to broaden my horizons elsewhere.
I will be glad to give you two weeks’ notice, however, if you prefer that I leave immediately, I would certainly understand.
Thank you for the opportunity to work for you, and I wish you and your firm all the best.
Sincerely,
McKayla Dawson
My stomach bottoms out, my blood turning icy. My chest painfully constricts as I realize… Mac is truly going to be walking out of my life for good. Before… just thirty seconds ago actually… I knew that she was still down the hallway, and I think part of me maybe even assumed that we’d get to the point that we could talk to each other again.
Never did I think that she’d leave. That I wouldn’t see her every day.
A panicky feeling settles over me as I realize that everything with Mac has just spun so quickly out of control. I’m always the person that has a firm grip on things, but now I feel like everything in my life is just turning to shit.
I stare at her resignation letter, wondering what to do. I had hoped by transferring her elsewhere, that would put enough distance between us so that she would
feel comfortable staying on here. I’m thinking perhaps I misjudged Mac.
Standing up from my desk, I grab the letter and stuff it back in the envelope. This won’t do at all, I think as I head toward her office.
She’s got her back turned to me, diligently typing on her computer, but when I step in her office, she hears me and turns around.
I throw the envelope with her resignation on her desk. “What the hell is this?”
“Come on, Matt. You know what it is.” Her voice is soft with not a hint of anger or malice. She seems a bit sad, a bit detached, but completely resolute.
“You’re resigning?” I ask for clarification, because fuck… I still can’t believe what she’s doing.
“Yes. I’ll give you two weeks’ notice or, if you want me to leave immediately, I’ll do that. I’m taking the Jackson case with me though, so please don’t think about fighting me on that. My clients won’t stay here if I’m not involved.”
“I don’t give a fuck if you take that case,” I tell her as I wave my hand in exasperation. “I just can’t believe you’d quit. I mean… I moved you out of my section so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. I thought it would give you want you wanted.”
Mac tilts her head and looks at me curiously. She’s trying to figure me out… figure my game. I feel like I’m about ready to explode with frustration and helplessness, but I’m not about to let her know that. I try to school my features into a visage of calm and can only hope she doesn’t see the turmoil raging inside of me.
“I’m sorry,” she says with an apologetic smile, her tone aloof and professional. “I appreciate you trying to make my work environment easier. It’s just… it’s just too hard for me to be here. Too many memories.”
She pauses, her eyes going a bit dreamy, and then she says with a tiny smile of remembrance. “Some right in this office.”
I can’t help but smile in memory too, thinking of that first week she worked here and I took her on her desk. Or the time I took her against her wall. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to step foot in this office again and not remember those times.
I look at her hard, searching deep for some type of lifeline she may be throwing out to me. I’m hoping her eyes will tell me something… maybe give me a reason I can beg her to say. All I see in return is a woman whose mind is made up, and I don’t think is going to spend a moment looking back over her shoulder at what she’s leaving behind.
That thought is dismally depressing, and I feel absolutely lost.
“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” I throw out, not giving a fuck if my tone is too pleading.
She seems to be considering something, but it doesn’t last more than a second. She gives a slight shake to her head. “I’m sorry. This is for the best.”
I played football in high school, played some inter-mural in college. I’m pretty fucking competitive, and I hate losing. I hate that feeling, when the clock ticks to zero and you’re out of time to make a final, big play, and you realize that you’ve lost the game… that feeling that your stomach is bottoming out and you’re mired in anger and frustration and yeah… even sadness.
That’s what I feel right now. Game is over, and it’s time to pack up and go home.
“All right then,” I say quietly as I pick the envelope back up. “I’ll accept your resignation, and I’ll take the two weeks’ notice. That’s very professional of you to offer that. Since you’ll only be here two more weeks, obviously I won’t be transferring you over to Bill. You can help me wind up some stuff.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “Sounds like a game plan.”
I give her a small smile to show her no hard feelings and leave her office.
But there are so many hard feelings, and I better learn how to process through them if I’m going to be able to move on from her.
***
The next day, I’m attempting to slog through the workday after another shitty, sleepless night. I dreamed of Mac… of course, except it wasn’t a sexy, pornographic dream… it was more like a nightmare. I don’t even remember the details of it, but I felt Mac getting pulled away from me and it felt like my heart was getting pulled out of my chest. I woke up covered in sweat and depressed as shit.
I couldn’t go back to sleep so I dragged my ass into the office at quarter ‘til six in the morning.
A soft knock on my door and I look up. Kylie is standing there, and I’m so not ready to deal with her. In fact, I haven’t had time to even talk to Bill about the situation.
“We need to talk,” Kylie says nervously. “I’m really embarrassed about what happened and need to set things straight with you.”
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s lunch time. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. We can talk there.”
She raises her eyebrows at me in surprise because I’m sure she never expected me to talk to her in so public of a forum. But she must be fucking stupid if she thinks I’m going to put myself in a room with her alone again. I don’t know Kylie, but I do know she’s got no qualms with trying to give her boss a hand job that never once gave her any indication he’d want one. There is no telling what she may try to do, and I’m smart enough to know a woman scorned is not a woman you want to fuck with. Marissa imparted that advice to me and I’ve apparently taken it to heart. For once, I’m happy to have major trust issues with women because it makes me cautious. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to put me in a compromising situation and then claim I sexually harassed her.
Standing up from my desk, I walk past her and assume she’ll follow me down to the main level of our building. It has a pretty decent cafeteria, and although I usually work through lunch sustaining myself with a granola bar or something, it’s a nice alternative and super convenient.
Kylie actually makes small talk with me about the Pearson appeal, and I keep half an ear open because I’m clearly going to be taking the case back over soon. When Kylie lays her arm on mine as she tells me something about the case, I have an immense surge of satisfaction that I was smart enough to take this conversation into a public place. She’s clearly not as embarrassed about what happened as she claims to have been. She may not be embarrassed now, but she will be soon because this lunch is going to culminate with Kylie looking for a new job.
When I get to the register, I pay for my lunch, purposely not paying for Kylie’s so as to make sure there is no misunderstanding as to our relationship. Very soon, she’ll be very clear about it.
Picking my tray up, I scan the room filled with Formica-covered tables and bright, primary-colored plastic chairs. A flash of raven-colored hair catches my eye, causing me to turn slightly, and I see Mac sitting at a table with Cal. She’s staring right at me.
And for the first time since I can remember, I don’t have a flash of hate fill me when I see Cal. I don’t even feel a moment of jealousness that he’s sitting with my lover.
Well, ex-lover.
If anything, I’m just avidly curious as to what they’re talking about. Probably me, no doubt, but that doesn’t even upset me.
It’s quite amazing, and I have to wonder… did it really make a difference the information that Mac shared with me about what happened between Cal and Marissa? I had purposely not tried to dwell on it in the last several days, instead having quite enough misery pining over Mac. But now, I have to wonder… because I’m having a very un-Matt-like reaction to seeing them together.
Oh, I still have brutal longing when I see Mac, and that empty feeling inside of me magnifies. That hasn’t changed and not sure it will. But I don’t feel even a tinge of anger at seeing her with him. Just sadness and inquisitiveness as to what they’re discussing.
As Mac looks at me, her eyes shining across the expanse of the room, a moment passes between us as if nothing were wrong. As if she were happy to see me, and I her, and everything this past week was wiped clean. I let my gaze wander to Cal for a moment, but his head is bent, reading a document.
I don’t
even hesitate but head over to where they’re sitting. I don’t know why, and don’t know what I plan to do. I think I just want to stand close to Mac, even if just for a moment. I vaguely hear the click-click of Kylie’s heels as she follows me, and keep my gaze pinned on Mac. Her eyes widen when she realizes I’m coming to their table and she actually kicks Cal under the table, causing his head to snap up. She tilts her head in my direction and Cal’s gaze follows, coming to rest on me.
When I reach them, Cal nods his head at me and says, “Matt.”
I nod back in acknowledgement and then introduce Kylie to Cal, making sure that I say she’s a “contract” attorney so the temporary nature of her time with our firm is reiterated. Cal shakes her hand and asks her about her appellate work, and I take a moment to look at Mac again. Her face is open and soft… no anger, no bitterness.
No missing me, that’s for sure, and that does hurt a tiny bit.
My gaze drops to the table and in an instant, I take in the document laying before Cal. It has the words, “Business Plan, Carson & Dawson, LLC” typed across the top. My eyes snap back to Mac’s for her to confirm to me in a look, that yes… she and Cal are apparently plotting to open up their own firm together.
I wait for a wave of jealousy to overcome me, but it doesn’t. I wait for anger that she’s abandoning me in favor of him to flush through me. It never comes. Instead, I have a weird feeling of admiration settle over me for what Mac is doing with her career.
And I embrace it. She deserves to be happy and clearly, it wasn’t going to be working at my firm.
And outside of fucking my wife, which I’ll now admit may have been more on Marissa’s doorstep than Cal’s, he is an excellent attorney and would make a good business partner for Mac. Yeah… I think I might be a little happy she’s doing something so adventurous and taking control of her life. I may have lost control of mine, but she’s got hers intact and if there’s one thing that will never change about me… I only want the best for her.
Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel Page 30
