Learning to Let Go

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  Almost an hour and several shared tears later, I got off the phone with my parents and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. My eyes were a little red, but thankfully not puffy, and my makeup was still fully intact.

  I had been right initially as to my parent’s response about what happened to me; they didn’t believe me. I had to pull Grace and Donny into the conversation for them to finally listen to everything I had to say, but, all in all, I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders after they apologized, making me realize that our family had been suffering from a simple lack of communication. At least we ended on good terms and promised to try and be better at talking with one another.

  A sharp knock at the door brought my attention back to the here and now. “We need to leave.” Garrett’s gruff voice filtered through the doors as he tried to open the handle, only to discover that I still had it locked.

  “I’ll be right there,” I replied sweetly. I took one last look in the mirror before grabbing my stuff, opening the door, and barreling right into his chest. I started to lose my balance on the high heels I was wearing when his arms came around my waist and held me tight.

  His eyes scanned up and down my body, assessing what I had on. “You look beautiful tonight. However, I don’t agree with your choice in shoes and you know I like your hair down.”

  “It’s not your choice to make. You lost that when you decided to push me away.”

  I waited for a rebuttal, but he only shook his head, replying, “It’s complicated.”

  My breasts pressed up against his chest in an attempt to draw his attention as I narrowed my eyes at him with the hardest stare I could muster. “The only person making it complicated is you!” I hissed.

  If his facial expression didn’t give it away, his body language did. He jumped back, eyes wide, not realizing that when I was shoved far enough, I could push back. I’d been weak up until the point I met Garrett, but he’d given me the courage, along with some insistence from Grace, to stand up for myself. He wanted this, so he’d get it tonight.

  His lips pressed into a hard line. I could tell Mister in Control of Everything wanted to fight with me, to argue a point. I knew how my feistiness sometimes turned him on and one look at his dress pants already indicated that I was doing just that. He was sporting a nice tent now. OMG, why did I just stare at his crotch? That gray suit that makes him look so powerful, so handsome. Instead of reacting and pushing me against the wall and having his way with me like our encounters in the past, he stepped aside and motioned towards the door.

  “We need to leave,” he said cordially, ushering me out.

  The ride to the arena was silent. I was surprised when we were dropped off at a VIP entrance and led to his personal suite. Just one glance at the lavishness made me forget that we were here to discuss business and watch a basketball game. There were huge flat screens on the wall with perfect viewing of the court below, several tables, chairs, and even a couple of sofas to discuss business or just relax. A private, en suite bathroom was off to the side and a mini-kitchen with refrigerator and marble countertops lined half a wall.

  I heard the rattle of a food cart and turned to see a chef and some assistants come in to set up a buffet display along the countertop. The smell of Sterno filled the air as they ignited the flames. I wondered what was on for dinner tonight—did he go with something to impress or will he keep it simple since it’s a basketball game? The thoughts left my mind as I heard, “Garrett, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Will Mr. Waters be joining us tonight?”

  I turned to see Garrett shaking an older man’s hand heartily. “It’s nice to see you again, Tom,” he enthused. “I hate to say that Mr. Waters has been detained overseas dealing with some contract negotiations, so he’s left me to spearhead this discussion, though we will be joined by Mr. Waters’ brother. Speaking of which, here he is now.”

  He motioned back towards Jonathan and made the introductions to everyone. I watched as Thompson and Dillon took up position one inside the suite and one immediately outside. Was he just protecting the businessmen or was there a potential for Chase to show up? He could easily blend into the crowd here, I guessed. It dawned on me that maybe that was the reason he was keeping me at arm’s length—if Chase had a chance to get to me, he didn’t want me hurt. He was still my hero riding in to save me, even if he kept his distance to do it.

  I couldn’t freaking believe she locked me out of our personal room. I’d finished working out with Thompson and thought I’d find her in our bedroom looking over the designs, only to find the note. Had I pushed her back too far this time? I knew she loved me and wanted to help, but I still had trouble saying the words back to her. My feelings for Laurel were unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life. Even when she’s in the office next door at work, my heart and body yearned for her, but was I good enough to be in her life?

  A cold shower seemed to calm my mood and help alleviate my sexual needs, for now. She had no idea, but being with her, whether intimately or just holding her in my arms, calmed me. My mind was continually in an upheaval, wondering when my bad luck would return. Would she get hurt if she stayed with me? Would I fail to protect her? Would Chase win? All the things that could potentially go wrong were running through my mind like a freight train, constantly keeping me on edge with the threat of derailing at any moment.

  I pushed my issues with Laurel aside and focused on how we could secure the deal with Williamston tonight. All I was missing was her report, which came in via email, rather than hand delivered. Damn, she was really ticked at me. I’d have to try and make it up to her at a later time, but work needed to come first right now. Scanning the information, I knew instantly we had a problem, but why wouldn’t she just tell me what it was?

  I attempted to email her back and call her on her phone, but got no response. I was so furious by the time I got to the door that I was ready to bust through the thing and carry her out kicking and screaming. I needed to know what could potentially blow this deal out of the water. Only after an intense screaming match did I finally understand that calls had been made, unsuccessfully, to their engineers and we would have to address it at the meeting tonight. It might make the negotiations a bit tense, but if they wanted this arrangement, then they’d have to come clean. I just wish she would confide her concerns rather than push me away.

  Several hours later, we were ready to head out and I wasn’t pleased with her attitude or some of her attire. The shoes had been purchased strictly for bedroom play, not to be worn in public. They did look quite nice on her and were fashionably chic, but the idea that she would take our private time and taunt me with it made my blood boil.

  Laurel challenged me, which I loved, and it made me think of the possibility of a future with someone for the first time in my life, even though my emotional life was royally fucked up. I tried to explain to her that things were complicated. I can still hear the sting of her words, as we sit in the limo headed to the Amway Center. “The only person making it complicated is you!” The more I thought about what she and Thompson had said, the more I realized they were right. After the meeting tonight, we’d talk. We needed to.

  The suite was already decorated with fresh flowers and the meeting area was set up with water and drinks. I busied myself talking with the people coming in, while I noticed Laurel moving towards the back walls, watching as everything was set up and put in place. I realized I’d never gone over how we handled a business meeting like this, since this was her first.

  I walked toward her, cautiously, leaning in to whisper, “This is your first meeting, right? My apologies for not going over proper etiquette for the way WMI handles negotiations.”

  She softened slightly as I grazed my hand along her shoulder. “Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. I’m here to dispute any problems and ask questions regarding the design, correct?”

  “Yes. When we get to the discussion of the functionality of the prosthetic, I’ll bring you in to ask your questions so we can
get the information you need. While the game is going on, we can excuse ourselves to discuss any concerns you have before finalizing the contract.”

  I wanted to reach out and pull her to me, but there were too many eyes upon us. She nodded, effectively dismissing me. I was a bit anxious about the negotiations, because too many of my competitors were vying for this company’s prosthetic device. If we were able to obtain the rights to it, along with Laurel’s prosthetic wrist and her current work trying to figure out a design for knee, we could corner the market.

  “Gentlemen, Laurel, shall we proceed?” I motioned towards the table for everyone to take a seat. “I believe a round of introductions are in order. I have my finest prosthetic engineer, Ms. Laurel Hart, here to discuss your design, Mr. Jonathan Waters to discuss the financial and sales aspects of our acquiring your product, and I have Mr. Waters’ authority to discuss the terms of the deal and see if we can come to some form of agreement tonight.”

  Thomas Williamston, the CEO of Williamston Technologies, introduced his son, Tom Jr., and his two engineering designers, Mack Collins and Jerry Miller. Pleasantries were exchanged before we got right down to business.

  Mack and Jerry opened up a padded suitcase and extracted the prosthetic from its protective bindings. Laurel’s eyes sparked instantly as she saw the prototype. She reached out hesitantly, at first, before asking, “Would you mind if I examine the prototype a bit closer? I’ve been limited only to your sketches and video of the prosthetic in action.”

  Jerry motioned for her to go ahead, while Mack’s eyes flashed a middle level of concern before glancing up at Tom Sr., who seemed to agree with Jerry.

  “Please feel free to inspect and ask questions.” Mr. Williamston offered.

  I took a sip of water, seated myself at the head of the table, and began our presentation. “The packets on the table include a proposal for purchasing rights to your prosthetic ankle design. While you’d retain all rights to the creation of the item, we’d be the exclusive manufacturer for the health community, both here in the US and abroad. I’ll let Jonathan take over with the specifics.”

  I leaned back in my chair as Jonathan brought up a PowerPoint presentation on one of the television monitors. He ran through every possible scenario, countered any questionable areas where they seemed reluctant, and presented this alignment as a win-win situation for both companies, helping their company progress out of the bowels of the medical technology field while propelling ours into an arena I wanted to conquer in memory of my aunt and her inability to get approval for adequate prosthetics. He wrapped up his presentation right as the food was brought in.

  “Why don’t we take a break from negotiations and enjoy a fine meal before the game starts? We can pick things up during halftime.”

  Everyone appeared in agreement once they saw the surf and turf the chef had prepared. I watched as Laurel kept analyzing the prototype while the rest of us gathered our food and took it out on the balcony to eat and watch the guys warm up before the game. She kept turning it over in her hands, moving it this way and that, even taking out a magnifying glass from her computer’s briefcase to analyze the most minute details.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” I prodded. “Deidre said you missed breakfast and you hardly ate anything this afternoon.”

  I could see she was deep in thought, moving parts on the prosthetic individually and scribbling frantically in a notebook, but she finally looked up when I touched the side of her face with the back of my hand.

  “You should have some food,” I suggested. “You haven’t been eating well lately and I’m concerned your sugar levels may fall out of balance if you don’t feed yourself properly.”

  “I’ll get something in a minute,” she said distractedly. “I just haven’t been myself, probably just nerves with everything going on. Plus, the smell of the food isn’t sitting well with me right now.”

  If she wasn’t feeling well, then why hadn’t she shared that? Did you really give her a chance to? I looked around to see if anyone was watching, before leaning in to whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t well?”

  Instead of answering me, she pushed away from the table defiantly. “Fine. I’ll go have some food, sir.”

  I watched as she gathered very little food on her plate, mostly bread, some fresh fruit, and a small piece of steak. She took her food back to the table and proceeded to take a bite or two while she continued her examination of the ankle.

  I headed out toward the balcony to see how everyone was doing. On the way out, I noticed Jerry on his way back toward the table to Laurel. His eyes seemed to light up at the look of her. I instantly didn’t like him—what was he up to? Even though Thompson was in the room, I stood between the two areas so I could listen in on the conversation.

  “Do you have any questions about our design, Ms. Hart?”

  I watched as Laurel’s head rose to meet his eyes, a small smile spreading across her face. “I do have a few, Mr. Miller.”

  He touched her hand lightly. “Please, call me Jerry.”

  She didn’t remove her hand from his touch, which made my blood boil. “Okay, Jerry,” she responded, “but I insist you call me Laurel.”

  His thumb skimmed over the back of her hand as he pulled up a seat next to her, practically shoving himself in her space. “Okay, Laurel. What can I help you with?”

  I could tell he was enticed by her—who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful, brilliant and mine. I didn’t like how this guy was easing in on my territory. If she’s your territory, then you need to do something to claim her, make her yours, promise her more than what you currently have going.

  “The design has some wonderful merits,” she began, “but I’m concerned about a couple of areas. First, you seem to put the stronger metals and thermoplastics in the foot and the upper portion of the ankle, which I applaud, but the joint itself seems to lose some functionality in its strength and ability for flexibility the longer your test study went on. I detected a grinding sound coming from the joint itself at the two to three month mark in your video. Here, let me pull it up on my laptop.”

  Jerry leaned closer, his arm grazing the side of hers, as he pointed to the joint of the prototype sitting right in front of them. “We’ve tested a variety of different metals on the ankle joint itself. If we go too rigid with the use of steel, the prosthetic is weighted down and difficult to walk with. We’d prefer the use of titanium for the entire joint, but the costs are too high, so we tried to go with a combination of aluminum and steel, resulting in a usable and lighter weight prosthetic. Then it’s available at an affordable cost, but it seems to require some minor adjustments after a few months.”

  Laurel looked up at me, noticing I was watching their conversation. Her eyes were alight with mischief as she leaned in closer to Jerry. Why that little...she’s intentionally flirting with him.

  “I had a similar problem with my wrist design, but rather than go to the extreme of aluminum, I was able to offset some of the costs by putting steel in the higher weight bearing areas of the wrist, because of its durability and strength. I applied the titanium in the remaining areas to lighten the load and create the feel of a normal wrist. The aluminum may be good in the upper supports of the system, but should be avoided for the actual joints itself, otherwise you’ll find the continual need for repairs and adjustments.”

  Jerry grabbed his laptop and opened to the design of the ankle and made some adjustments, applying the suggestions that Laurel had just made. He looked up in amazement at her. “How did you know to do that? I knew we had a few bugs to still work out, but this will definitely work.”

  I watched as she blushed to his praises and my fingers curled into fists. Those blushes belong to me. Her hand came up and touched the side of his arm, in play, but the response in his eyes told me that he was going to try and go after what’s mine.

  I listened as she went on to show some other areas where they could trim some costs and reallocate them towards perfecting the
joint. My guess was that Jerry was the secondary designer, since at one point he called Mack in to have him review what they discussed. Mack argued Laurel’s thoughts at first, before seeing the new changes on the design screen and realizing they would work.

  “Ms. Hart, I’d like to apologize,” Mack said, shaking her hand. “My first impression of you was that you were too young and inexperienced to be able to provide feedback on our product. I didn’t take kindly to you and didn’t treat you with the respect you deserve as an engineer. You are brilliant; beyond compare, really. If you ever find yourself tiring with your current employer, please feel free to give our company a call. We could use someone of your caliber.” Mack looked over at Jerry. “I’m going to borrow your laptop a second and show the bosses the new changes and see what we can do to alter the prototype.”

  As soon as Mack left, Jerry eased back into Laurel’s space, his fingers caressing one of her hands as he stared into her eyes. “I hope I’m not being forward here, but was wondering, are you dating anyone?”

  My heart almost stopped when that little prick asked her the question. Tell him you’re in a relationship. Tell him your mine!

  I watched in slow motion as her eyes came up to mine and then back at Jerry. “I had been seeing someone on and off, but not really what you’d call dating. So I guess I’m available.”

  My head screamed, “No! You’re mine! Tell him you’re involved!” but I just stood there, my lips zipped, in agony. Why would she? You told her you didn’t want to date. You’ve stated what you have is casual, but you’d try. She’s told you she loves you, but you can’t even reciprocate the words. She’s free to do what she wants.

  Jerry pulled a card out from his pocket and wrote something on the back of it. “Here’s my card with my work email address. My personal cell number is on the back. We’ll be here in town for a few more days, taking in some of the sights. I’d like the chance to be able to take you out, Laurel. Maybe see where things lead…”