That made sense, but why hadn’t she told me? Not that we spoke about my father very often, but it was a key detail in the story of how we came to be the way we were.
“When I finally hit twenty-five and got access to my trust fund, I tried to contact her again,” he continued. “I even flew to New York, though I had no idea where to look. We were students when I last saw her. She’d talked about her mother, but I’d never been to the house. I didn’t know where she lived. I went to that bakery she loved—the one downtown with the great cannoli?”
My head was spinning. I wanted to stop the ride and get off. I knew the story. My mother had always been honest with me. She’d told him she was pregnant and he’d fled New York to go back to London. They’d spoken a couple of times and he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me. That was the truth.
“You’re saying it’s my mother’s fault that you and I don’t know each other and that . . .” What was he saying?
“Absolutely not. She was doing the best she could. From her perspective, she had a boyfriend who abandoned her as soon as she was pregnant and then didn’t help her out. This wasn’t your mother’s fault. The responsibility lies at my door. I want you to know that.”
Sadness welled in my stomach. Sadness for my mother, for the feelings of panic and loneliness she must have experienced as someone she loved slipped away from her. Sadness for my father, for understanding how weak he was and not finding the strength to change. Sadness for me and the life I might have had if both my parents had been . . . different. Older. Wiser.
“Not knowing you has been a huge regret in my life,” he said, his voice thick with melancholy. “And now you’re back. I want to try to make things right. You should know that I’ve adjusted my will to reflect the fact that I have three daughters.”
It was as if he’d reached down my throat and pulled out my lungs. I didn’t have air. I didn’t have words. I didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m not looking for credit or thanks. It should never have been any other way. I hope we can continue getting to know each other like this, but even if you decide you don’t want to pursue a relationship with me, nothing will change as far as my will is concerned.”
I have three daughters.
His words rang in my ears. I’d grown up not having a father. I wasn’t the only kid in school in the same boat, but my dad hadn’t run off with another woman. He hadn’t divorced my mom, hadn’t gone to prison, been shot and killed. He had just . . . never existed.
“I never expected anything like that,” I said, my voice coming out quieter than I was used to.
“I’ve never given you any reason to expect anything from me. I hope I can change that. You know you can come to me. For anything. Anytime.”
This would be the perfect moment to tell him about my mother’s knee, but something in me couldn’t. I’d spent these lunches and coffees trying to position myself so I could ask, and now I had the opportunity, it didn’t feel right.
Would it ever? Maybe when I’d settled into my job. Maybe when I’d had a chance to come to terms with what had happened between Andrew and me. Maybe when my focus wasn’t splintered between the present, and every moment I’d ever spent naked in Andrew’s arms.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Thirty-Seven
Sofia
I had less than seven minutes before Andrew arrived. Seven minutes before I had to present my ideas for changing Verity, Inc. back into the publication it had been in its heyday. If that wasn’t enough, I had to do it without having slept since Andrew ended things between us. I was almost dizzy with a combination of fatigue, adrenaline, and frustration. Obsessing about Andrew and how he’d managed to walk away from us without a second glance was another reason why I hadn’t gotten around to reading my employment contract until now. I’d run out of time. I was supposed to hand it to Douglas when he arrived with Andrew. I scanned the papers again. This couldn’t be right. I punched the HR director’s number into the desk phone.
“Hi, Wendy, it’s Sofia. I have a couple of questions on my contract. Mostly around salary and bonuses.”
“It wasn’t what you expected?”
It was far more than I’d been expecting. My salary meant that not only was I able to save every month—even with the astronomical rent I was paying and my student loan payments—but I was going to be able to put a dent in the fifty grand for my mother’s operation. If my father didn’t end up paying out, then within a couple of years, I might be able to pay for her procedure myself. “I just wanted to check how this works. The bonus is on top of the annual salary, right?”
“Yes, you have an annual bonus and a rolling three-year-long term bonus.”
“Two bonuses? That’s normal?”
“Yes. You’ve got a very typical executive compensation plan. It’s the same across everyone at your level at Blake Enterprises. Obviously, you have to be employed in the company in three years for the long-term bonus to pay out.”
If my mom could hold out until I got my annual bonus, I could definitely afford her knee replacement. Maybe I could even pay her some money every month so she didn’t have to work two jobs.
It was a dream come true. There’d been too many recently.
First Andrew, then the job offer, now the bonus. I kept telling myself that it made sense that Andrew and I hadn’t lasted. I couldn’t expect too much. A job and a prospect of some savings was what I’d needed when I’d come to London. Wanting more was just tempting fate.
My assistant popped her head around the door and pointed animatedly in the direction of the Verity meeting room.
Apparently, Andrew had arrived.
“Thanks, Wendy. Gotta go.”
I scooped up my papers and sped along the corridor.
I took a deep breath and opened the meeting room door. “Andrew, Douglas, how are you both?”
It had been just over a week since I’d last seen or heard from Andrew. He’d been true to his word and hadn’t been in touch at all since he’d offered me the Verity job. I’d even stopped by Noble Rot the first three days after my promotion to see if James made an appearance, but he’d disappeared too.
I was equal parts angry at and grateful to Andrew. I understood that sleeping with the boss was a cliché and that he, more than most people, had an incentive to keep walls up between his worlds. But wasn’t it worth a shot? Weren’t we worth it?
I thought so.
Seeing him made my stomach rock like I was on a row boat in the middle of the Atlantic. How had we shared so much in such a small space of time and now, sitting opposite each other across a boardroom table that felt wider than an ocean, it was like we’d never been anything more than professional colleagues.
My mom was right when she told me that there was no such thing as a free lunch. This was my sacrifice: I’d given up Andrew for this job. A man for my mother’s health. What other choice was there?
“What have you got for us?” True to form, Andrew didn’t want to waste time chitchatting. I wasn’t going to argue.
“My plan is to go from zero to sixty in two-point-five seconds. We want a big-bang launch. The readers, advertisers, and staff needed for Verity, Inc. going forward is so completely different to what we have now, there’s no soft launch. We go in big and we go in hard.”