by Hayleigh Sol
Another rousing show of support from Mom. Why had I thought anything would be different?
“Life is about learning, Mom. From our victories and our defeats. Maybe I don’t always get everything right the first time around, but I keep trying. And I like that about me.”
I wished I had a mic to drop. Instead, I kissed her on the cheek—I still loved my mom, even if she didn’t believe in me—and left the room.
Dad was refolding the tent—great, apparently something else I didn’t do right—but stopped when he heard the door close behind me, perhaps a little louder than was polite.
“How’d it go, kiddo?”
“About as well as you’d expect. I know she worries, but would it kill her to have a little faith in me? It’s not like I’m a total fu—screw–up.”
My father gave me a look that was half reprimand, half smirk at my near slip. “She doesn’t think you are, sweetheart. You should hear the way she talks about you to her friends, our neighbors. Hell, to the cashier at the grocery store or anyone else who’ll listen. Your mom is constantly bragging about her ‘brilliant daughter, the environmentalist who’s single–handedly saving the world’.”
She was?
“That’s sweet of you to say, Dad, but I don’t know if I believe it. I’ve never heard her say anything like that and we both know she didn’t exactly embrace my recycling and composting initiatives growing up.”
“Oh, she didn’t? She may have grumbled about the mess and the extra work, but I seem to recall that we did start following all your green rules—and still do to this day.” He’d crossed his arms over his chest and was giving me the look fathers have that very distinctly says you don’t know as much as you thought you did.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, but I would still argue that it doesn’t have anything to do with maternal pride. I swear, the only thing that’ll earn her approval is for me to find a man and let him take over everything my delicate female brain can’t handle.”
“That’s not true.” I gave him my own look, one that said he was full of it. “Yes, she’d love for you to find someone, but not because she thinks you can’t cut it on your own. I told you, she brags about you all the time. It’s just that she loves you and wants to see you happy. We both know your mother’s way of showing how much she cares is to worry about the people she loves.”
“But it’s more than that with me, it always has been. She doesn’t just worry, she…doubts. If she really is proud, why can’t she ever say any of that to me?”
Dad didn’t have a good answer for that but he was certain Mom loved me so hard that it came out as overprotectiveness. He said they’d discussed the search–and–rescue debacle and she’d agreed she may’ve gone overboard there. When he offered to have another talk with her about letting me make my own choices regarding the business, I simply shrugged. I didn’t really believe it’d change anything, but it was nice of him to offer.
The only way my mother would finally see me as an adult, capable of standing on my own, was if I actually accomplished everything I set out to do professionally. Honestly, I didn’t know if that would even make a difference, but I wasn’t just doing it to gain her confidence in me. I was doing it to regain my own.
Chapter 26
I was sorting laundry when Bailey called. After the run–in with Mom, I didn’t think I could take any more negativity. But this was my best friend. One of the five women I trusted to have my back in any situation. Bailey, in particular, tended to be mama–bear protective of all of us.
More so when it came to men, but we all knew the reasons behind that.
Unlike Mom, Bay had never been anything but supportive. Until our recent conversation. Over the years, she’d even kicked my ass—verbally, though she’d been known to throw an affectionate punch to the shoulder or elbow to the ribs to make a point—whenever I’d put myself down.
“Are you calling to be mean to me again?”
That surprised a laugh out of her. “No. I’m calling to, gulp, apologize for being mean to you.”
“An apology from Bailey. And you didn’t even choke on it…well, you almost didn’t choke on it. This is pretty major.”
“Alright, sassypants. Look, I know I should’ve said what I did more tactfully, but I stand by my point that you don’t need Brad—or anyone—to rescue you. Or your company. I’ve seen you grow from a one–woman operation to having so many clients you had to hire help. Then more help. You did that, Maya. Before Brad ever entered the picture.”
She was right. Brad hadn’t started helping until the past year or two. “Thanks, Bay. While I’d feel better about our current position with the money Brad’s offering to loan the business, I’m not sure I’m comfortable adding to the debt I already have with my now ex–boyfriend.”
“Oh, thank God.” The relief in her voice was clear. “I have this weird feeling about that situation and I just can’t shake it. And I know you all think I’m anti–Brad because he’s been a douche to you at times—and, yeah, that’s a big part of it—but, if I really believed he could help you with the company you’ve poured your heart and soul into for the last ten years, I’d support you in keeping him around. I just…I feel like you need a clean break with this one.”
I had to chuckle at myself a little on that. “Don’t know how clean a break we can call it when we’ve still been working together while “on a break” for the past couple of months. But I might agree with you that it’s time to go our separate ways.” With Luka in the picture, I also didn’t want to put any unnecessary strain on our fledgling relationship by spending time with my ex. Luka didn’t deserve that.
“Good for you, babe. So, tell me what’s next.”
Bailey and I had always geeked out on small–business ownership talk. We’d even made suggestions that had helped the other out a time or two. I told her about my ideas and the direction I wanted to push Green for Green over the next few years and how I planned to handle the conversation I needed to have with Brad.
Who happened to return my call just as Bailey and I were wrapping up. I gave him a taste of his own medicine and let it roll to voicemail so I could say a proper goodbye to my best friend.
“Alright, I know you’re probably nervous about this meeting, but I want you to remember that you are strong and smart and badass. You are still in charge of what happens in your own company; don’t let him convince you otherwise. Say it, Maya: ‘I am badass’.”
She made me repeat my new mantra back to her three times, louder with each successive chant. I did kinda feel like a badass.
Bailey had that effect on people.
Rather than leaving a message, Brad had texted. His text was longer—and far friendlier in tone—than our recent conversations. It put a slight hiccup in my badassery.
Brad: Glad you’re back in town and eager to get back to work. I know you have some ideas you wanted to talk over. Sorry if it seemed like I was busy the last few times we spoke but I really wanted you to be able to forget about everything going on here for a bit. I hoped you could unplug and actually enjoy your vacation. You deserved a little breathing room.
Huh. Okay, maybe that explained why he’d been so quick to get off the phone whenever I’d wanted to discuss the business.
I worked on a response that would thank him for wanting me to relax without thanking him for the way he’d handled it, making me feel like I was getting the brush–off. Before I hit Send, he suggested we meet at one of the cafés we’d spent many Sundays working on laptops together in the past. We set a time and, before I put my phone down, it chimed with another message.
Brad: Looking forward to seeing you, My. And not just to talk business. ;)
What the—? Was he flirting with me?
I scratched my head at his strange behavior—it was possible he’d missed me while I was g
one, I supposed—and typed out the only reply I could think of.
Me: Ok, see you soon.
As I finished laundry, I continued to puzzle over Brad and his texts. They reminded me of something I hadn’t thought of in ages, a trip to Vegas he’d taken about ten months into our relationship.
He’d been a little distant in the weeks before his friend’s bachelor party weekend and I had the growing suspicion he was getting ready to break up with me. The night before he left, I was tired of treading lightly and asked him about it.
His shoulders had slumped with his sigh. “You’re a sweet girl,” he’d told me. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I think I just need some time to think.”
Then he’d asked if we could skip talking on the phone and cut back on texting while he was gone; he was staying a few extra days so the four–day bachelor weekend would be closer to a full week away for him.
Still expecting to be dumped, I’d told him to take whatever time he needed. Meanwhile, I worked on getting over what I’d thought was a great relationship with real long–term potential. While he was gone, he remained silent. Thinking.
When he returned, we’d met for lunch—funny enough, now that I thought of it, at the same place he’d chosen for tomorrow’s meeting—and he’d rendered me utterly stunned when his big speech hadn’t been about breaking up. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d missed me, he loved me, he wanted to be with me.
So we stayed together. And he made extra effort to show me he was all in, taking me out on dates and letting me choose what we did. At least for the first month or so.
Now I had to wonder, was Brad just being flirty in his last message, or was he hinting at wanting me back?
This time, though, there was another factor. A pretty major one.
Lukasz.
He called as I prepared for the meeting I had tomorrow; I was reading through the notes and projections I’d made, anticipating Brad’s possible objections and shoving aside my concerns about our personal history and the meaning of his last text.
Luka’s name lighting up my phone lifted the frown line that had settled between my brows, making me smile like…well, like I tended to do whenever he was around.
“Hiya, handsome. Did you make it home?”
“Hey, gorgeous. Let me just say, it is so great to have your number this time. To be able to call you and not just wish I could.”
Aw, melty swoon.
We talked about our respective drives home, his cleaning up and putting away the boat, my stopping off at my parents’ place; it was all so normal. And it made me miss him. Way more than I’d anticipated.
“Strange to say, but I’m going to miss sleeping on the ground on our uneven mattresses tonight. I think I got used to you falling in the crack in the middle of the night.”
I laughed with him at the memory. We’d never fully corrected that problem. “I’m sure you won’t miss me flailing around like a turtle on its back, waking you up with an elbow to the chin.”
Yeah, that had happened. More than once.
“How quickly you forget what some of those middle–of–the–night awakenings led to.”
“Don’t start giving me the sexy voice, you evil villain.”
“Wasn’t aware I had one.” His trademark grin came through loud and clear.
“You know perfectly well that you do. And that it makes my panties damp every time you use it.”
He groaned. “Now who’s being evil?”
“Changing the subject now before this turns into a game of sexy chicken. You remember how well strip Uno went for you.” He’d talked a big game when we’d played an adult version of the card game in the tent one night. Draw Two cards meant removing two articles of clothing and a Draw Four meant touch, kiss, lick, and stroke the body part chosen by the person who’d played the card.
Everybody was a winner that night.
Clearing the lusty haze from my brain, I searched for an innocuous topic. It’d be at least twenty–four hours before I could get my hands on Luka—and his on me—again. Probably more than that. “So, think you’ll be ready to go back to work Monday?”
Luka chuckled low and I swear I felt it reverberate through my—yes, damp—panties. “That transition was about as smooth as the bark of that pine tree you attacked me against.”
Yep, that had happened too. Sometimes he flashed that grin at me and I just had to shove him up against stuff. It was his own fault, really.
“I should be asking you about going back to work. Have you figured out what you’re gonna do yet?”
Instant lady–boner killer. What a shame—I mean, relief. “Looks like Brad and I are meeting to talk about everything tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he sounds…a little more open to listening to my ideas. Like he actually wants to hear me out.”
Silence from Luka’s side for a beat, two. “That’s good. I mean, it is your company, right.”
Crap. There was an edge I didn’t normally—ever—hear from Luka.
“It is, yes. You’re absolutely right. But, you know, he’s been a big help. For a long time now. It just doesn’t feel right to say, ‘thanks for all the time and money you’ve put in, but I got this, you’re not needed anymore.’”
More silence.
“I just feel like I owe it to him to hear how the past couple of weeks went, to listen to his ideas rather than just telling him mine.”
“Maya, you don’t owe him anything. Except, maybe, the money you already planned to repay him. Are you changing your mind about bringing him in as a partner? I thought you wanted to stay true to your vision for the company. Which, from what you’ve told me, doesn’t seem to be the same as his.”
“I do want to follow my own plans for the company but I don’t want to be closed off to new ideas and miss something important, you know? And I don’t think a partnership makes sense but—we just have all this history and it doesn’t seem fair to give him the boot after all he’s done.”
“I see.”
His tone said he definitely did not see. Or agree. Or believe me when I’d told him I was over my ex.
Shitastic.
“Luka, I’m only trying to do what’s right here. When I said Brad and I have history, I was talking about the business. I mean, yes, we have other history too, but that only means I don’t want to be a dick to him in this situation. Our breakup’s been pretty amicable so far, which is a relief with everything else I’ve got going on. Please tell me you’re not thinking I still have feelings for him. Because I don’t, at least not beyond wanting to pay him back and—”
“Maya, breathe.” I did. He sighed. “I get that you want to handle this situation gracefully. I even admire it. And how you want to handle anything to do with the company you built is totally up to you.”
There was more, the proverbial “but”, the part I wasn’t going to like, hanging in the air.
“Look, I’m not really the jealous type; it’s just…a little awkward to think about you working with—more than that, forming a partnership with—a guy you were pretty serious about. It may take me some time to get used to the idea if that’s what you end up doing.”
I could understand where he was coming from. I’d often thought it was weird to keep working with my ex. It was probably even a factor in my fighting the partnership idea.
“Really, Luka, I don’t see that happening”—unless the financials were more dire than I’d realized and I had no choice but to take Brad’s loan—“but I get what you’re saying and I’m sorry I’m in this awkward situation right now.”
And that I’ve put you in one, too. God, should I suggest we put a pause on our relationship? The one that had barely begun?
This was gonna suck. “If you need to step back until I figure things out…or if you’d rather just pass”—shit, eyes burn
ing, throat closing, absolutely will not cry—“on you and me…no hard feelings.”
“Hey.” His voice was soft like a fuzzy blanket. “I’m not saying that. I don’t want that. Do you?”
My own voice was small, strangled from fighting the stupid tears. “No.”
“Good. You just have your meeting, see what’s what, and I’ll be ready to hear all about it over dinner. Tomorrow night?”
Thank fuck. I hadn’t thought I’d see him until the next weekend and I had a feeling I’d need his steady optimism and encouragement after talking to Brad.
“I’d love to see you tomorrow night.”
Luka wished me luck and told me to make sure my opinion was heard at the meeting. With unwavering certainty, he said that he knew I’d do great. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I went to bed that night with his faith in me a near substitute for the warmth of his arms around me.
Chapter 27
I worked out the stiffness of the previous day’s long drive and subsequent hours of poring over notes and financial projections with a morning run. Once I settled into my rhythm, the brain cleared and allowed the body to take over.
Afterward, I was left with a mental clarity, a self–assuredness, I’d felt so infrequently the past year. Longer than that, even.
It was the ideal frame of mind to be in for my talk with Brad. I just had to hold onto it for a few more hours.
Flipping through the stack of mail from my two weeks away, my stomach dropped at the sight of the Internal Revenue Service logo. This was news I’d been dreading back in March when my accountant had filed an extension on Green for Green’s corporate taxes. In the intervening months, I guess I forgot about the late and penalty fees awaiting me.
Forgot, or stuck my head in the sand?
