Dottie: Because I was hurt.
Lindsay: By other men. Other men hurt you, Dottie. Not Jason. That was your mistake, by sticking Jason in the same group as the men you once dated, you never gave him a chance.
Dottie: I only didn’t tell him about the Carltons. I gave him my entire self.
Emory: Don’t you see it? If you gave him all of you, then you would have told him, but you were still holding back in case he hurt you. He never had a chance.
Lindsay: I love you, but she’s right.
I toss my phone to the side, annoyed with the conversation, and try to shut my eyes, but even shut they burn from all the tears I’ve shed the past two days.
Are they right? Did I not truly give myself to Jason?
I was scared of losing him. Or was I scared of him seeing my true colors, the determined businesswoman I am? Because what if after he saw my true self he wouldn’t want to be with me anymore?
That seems more accurate than being scared, because I’ve been scared before, and it’s never truly affected my decisions. But with Jason, it was different.
Because he was different.
Rolling to my back, I stare at the ceiling and suck in a large breath.
I fucked up my relationship with Jason.
I fucked over this deal with the Carltons by cancelling with them.
I am slowly killing my career with my terrible choices.
And lastly, once again, I’ve let my dad down. Caused him more discomfort and embarrassment.
All because of what? A man in my past who mistreated me? Tarnished my reputation.
A man who I trusted, who lied to me, and broke me . . . just like I did to Jason.
And that realization strikes me harder than any other thought as Jason’s words return.
You should know the anguish, the heartache, the unfiltered pain it causes to find out you aren’t loved, you aren’t cared for . . . you’re just a pawn in someone’s game.
Deep in my soul, I know that’s not how I treated things with Jason, but from the outside looking in, from his perspective, dealing with a woman who unintentionally kept him at arm’s length emotionally, yeah . . . I can see where he’d wholeheartedly believe I lied for my own gain.
I pick up my phone again and scroll through Emory and Lindsay’s texts, feeling less defensive and more responsive to what they’re saying. It’s time I take responsibility for my actions, or lack thereof, and it starts with telling the truth because the lies have done enough damage.
“Mr. and Mrs. Carlton are here to see you,” Jessica says, stepping into my doorway with a knock.
Being in the high-powered position I am in my dad’s company, I’ve always prided myself on never being nervous, of being able to stay cool and calm through any business deal or interaction, but right now, I’m sweating.
I woke up this morning not wanting to get out of bed. I wanted to continue wallowing in my pain by looking through the pictures we took at the amusement park, something I did all weekend. But I knew I had responsibilities and it started with talking to the Carltons.
Wiping my hand on my dress pants, I stand from my chair. “Please show them in.”
Clouded with uneasiness, I stiffen my back and face the music. This moment is going to cost me the biggest deal of my career, possibly my job, damage my relationship with my dad, but I know it’s the right thing to do.
Hands linked in front of me, I give Mr. and Mrs. Carlton a soft smile as they enter my office. We exchange greetings with handshakes, and I set them up with some drinks as we take a seat in my office that overlooks the Chicago skyline.
When I decided on telling them the truth, I knew it would be hard. I’m putting not only my name on the line, but my dad’s, and it’s why I asked him to meet us here as well.
Right on time, my dad knocks on the door and is surprised to see Mr. and Mrs. Carlton already seated. I have yet to tell him everything that went down on Friday because frankly, I wasn’t only embarrassed, but heartbroken. I didn’t have it in me to disappoint another man in my life, so I sent him a quick email to meet me on Monday in my office.
I can only imagine what’s running through his head. He’s probably thinking I closed on the deal from the bright smile on his face.
Shit, I hate this. Facing the consequences of my actions.
Once he greets the Carltons, he takes a seat as well.
With a deep breath, I say, “Thank you all for meeting me here today and adjusting your schedules. I really appreciate it.” I scoot forward on my chair, trying not to fidget like my dad taught me. Fidgeting shows weakness and if anything, I need to be as strong as I can possibly be in this moment. “I’m really sorry about canceling dinner on Friday.” From the corner of my eye, I see my dad pull on his cufflink, an indication that he’s not entirely happy to not be briefed before this meeting.
“That’s quite all right, Miss Domico. We are understanding people.”
Let’s see just how understanding.
“I told you I had to cancel because of an emergency, which in fact, was true. The dinner we prepared caught up in flames.”
“Oh dear,” says Mrs. Carlton. “Is your home okay?”
“Yes, it was contained in the oven, but it happened because of me. You see, I’ve been dating Jason Orson, but not for as long as I told you.” Mr. Carlton’s eyebrows sharpen. “I’ve only been seeing him for a little over a month.”
“I see,” Mr. Carlton says, his usual jovial self, angry.
Controlling my breath and not letting it escape me, I say, “I was desperate to show you that even though I might not have been the family person you were looking for, we still were a family operated company. I wanted to keep you interested to grant me more time to prove that to you. I went about it the wrong way, and . . . I’m so sorry I deceived you.”
“I see,” Mrs. Carlton says looking out the window.
“I never meant to deceive you or make you feel like you’d been fooled. I can tell you from the heart, right now, that Jason Orson is everything I ever asked for in a man and I really—”
Mr. Carlton clears his throat and grips the edges of his armrest. “Yes, well, I don’t need to hear you prattle on. I think our time here is done.” He stands, lending his hand to his wife who takes it and lifts from her chair. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
Fuck. Panic constricts my throat, desperate pleas at the tip of my tongue that can’t seem to find a voice. No.
“Mr. and Mrs. Carlton,” my dad says, standing as well. “Please know this isn’t how we conduct business.”
“No?” Mr. Carlton asks, a sturdiness to his question. “She’s your daughter is she not? She must have learned how to be untrustworthy somewhere.”
My dad reels back, as if he’s been slapped. Shit . . . shit, shit, shit.
The crashing down of the moment drowns me as I try to float to the top, try to find the courage to stand on two legs as I realize this is just like the last time I disappointed my dad. The disappointment in his face, but the need to protect me as well.
I step in, placing a hand on my dad’s forearm. “I assure you, Mr. Carlton, my dad had nothing to do with this. He didn’t condone what I did. This was all on me and I will forever regret this decision.”
“Yes, you will,” he says, heading toward the door. He takes his wife’s hand and says, “What you learn quickly in this business, Miss Domico, is even though it’s a take-no-prisoners atmosphere, the businesses and executives who finish in a golden light and live a fruitful life are the ones who take the honest path in business. I hope this lesson serves you well.”