Before she could claim my success was because of her, or threaten I had no future without her, I walked out, feeling lighter than I had in years… except where my heart pumped in my chest. That traitorous organ had felt like a boulder since I pushed Nate away.
As I navigated through throngs of travelers in the terminal, I hadn’t expected the highly polished floors and modern industrial architecture. It all seemed surreal, as did my presence there.
Part of me felt as though I were running away from something; the other part of me felt I was running toward something. The combination made it obvious I needed to figure my shit out.
I saw my mother before she saw me, standing at the baggage claim carousel assigned to my flight. Her hand clutched that of a tall, handsome Black man, who I assumed was Roy. The happiness she’d claimed she’d found was obvious on her face. Even more so when her eyes found me, and the already-present smile literally detonated into an even more exaggerated one.
Maybe it was that look on her face, or the fact I hadn’t seen her in way too long, or maybe in that moment I just needed my mother, but something had me rushing toward her and into a crushing embrace. Something deeper had me burying my face in her neck and sobbing.
“Oh, honey,” Mom said, squeezing me harder. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I really am… for all I put you through. You’re here now, and we’re going to talk and work it out. You’re my daughter, and I love you.”
“I love you too.” She pulled away from me far enough to search my eyes as I added, “And I’m the one who’s sorry.” My words, although mumbled through tears, ironically rang through the space between us clear as a bell. After Dad’s death, I may have been hurting, but she was as well. In fact, one could argue my mother’s hurt was far more devastating, because now, sadly enough, I could relate to that kind of loss. While swiping away the remnants of tears on my cheeks, I turned toward Roy and with a smile said, “Welcome to our family.”
When I walked into the office later than usual, my tardiness earned a quizzical look from Simone. “Morning,” I grumbled while rushing past her. Even though I knew closing the door behind me wouldn’t keep her out, like a petulant child, I did it regardless.
A mountain of paperwork on my desk worsened my mood as I sank into my chair with an audible sigh. The tequila-induced pounding continued to hold my head hostage, and the same perpetrator was responsible for the way my stomach roiled.
Monday night was dumb. Me being me, I’d wanted to prove Brad wrong when he claimed I was fucked. Brad being Brad, he’d kept pumping me with booze, all while instigating flirtations with every female within twenty feet of where I sat at the bar. Each one I had engaged with had unknowingly been compared to a brunette who used to be in my life.
A sarcastic rumble echoed around me at the realization that because of her connection to my brother Max, she would always be in my life… just not in the way I wanted.
Regardless, I would be forced to sit through every damn family function and ignore that I knew what hid beneath her clothes. Worse even, forget how her lips felt wrapped around my cock, or how sliding into her pussy was nothing short of perfection. I would have to pretend I didn’t miss her, and not only in the biblical sense. That would be harder than the ignoring and the forgetting, because an actor I was not.
Like an idiot, I did it every night since then, trying to fall back into a familiar version of myself, trying to forget her. All that ended up happening was waking the next morning with a killer hangover and no more clarity than what I had.
Last night, though… I hit rock bottom. My brother would no doubt hold over my head how he’d had to leave his head bartender in charge, on a busy Thursday night, to ensure I got all the way home and into my bed without incident.
Thus, my current situation.
I needed a gallon of coffee, but that would require getting up out of my chair, and now that I was in it, that task seemed impossible. It had already taken way too much effort to get my ass to work to begin with. It didn’t help matters that I hadn’t worked out all week or had a decent meal.
The speaker function on my desk phone buzzing loudly sounded no different from a jackhammer. “Ugh,” I groaned, ignoring it, and that proved to be in vain when Simone appeared in my doorway.
But instead of coming in with her ever-present planner in hand, she slowly came closer, holding a steaming mug of coffee as though it were the antidote after a snakebite. “I take it you need this?”
“You read my mind.” Feeling bad that I assumed she was there to annoy me, I gave a sheepish smile and reached for it before she was near my desk. Once I had it in my hand, she plopped down in a chair without invite. “Thank you.” As I gulped a huge mouthful, ignoring the stinging burn on my tongue, she shook her head. “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hungover… much less four mornings in a row.”
“I’m not hungover.” When she suddenly clapped her hands, resulting in a piercing sound of skin on skin, I flinched and said, “Dear God, woman!”
“Point proven… but the lovely scent of Eau de Tequila you’ve been wearing this week tipped me off.” She regarded me with pity. “Too much celebrating now that the Steiner case is finally closed? Speaking of, I have the reception all set to go for three.”
Another groan rumbled. “Shit, I forgot about that.” Since starting my firm, I always held a little celebratory gathering for my staff when a case closed successfully, complete with champagne and gourmet appetizers. But when Simone mentioned it on Tuesday, I placated her by pushing it to Friday. Well, today was Friday, and that was the last thing I wanted.
“Do you want me to cancel it?”
Yes sat on the tip of my scorched tongue, but I instead shook my head. “No, it’s fine.” My staff shouldn’t be punished for my stupidity or misery. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to celebrate. And I tried to listen patiently while Simone reviewed the cocktail reception details, but thoughts that had spiraled in my mind all morning long began circulating again.
Despite my physical condition, my brain hadn’t shut off since I’d walked out of Amy’s place. A horrible realization began to crack my beliefs toward relationships. With each hour that went by, it worsened enough to do severe damage to my otherwise sound foundation. Just like that, after years of unwavering confidence that love ruined everything, ironically, I was caught up in a situation where love had indeed ruined everything. But where it should’ve emboldened me to the core, it had me questioning every moment I spent breaking up marriages.
How could I fight for a client’s right to assets when all I wanted to say was—Don’t leave her, or Stay with him, or Work it out, or Find that connection you once had, because the alternative is a lonely place?
And then, as though a hand had smacked the back of my head, a realization had hit this morning as I dragged on one article of clothing after another, all while my head pounded. I didn’t have to subject myself to other people’s miserable relationships. I didn’t have to pretend apathetic connections were relatable to my life.
I was the fucking boss.
I had a team of qualified attorneys who could do that for me. Now that the Steiner divorce was finalized, I could spend my time doing something more productive.