“No!” I didn’t want either of them more involved in this. They’d already done way too much for me. “I meant yes before—I have a lawyer. He’s great, actually.” How many times did I need to prove I was a terrible person before they’d stop believing in me?
“What’s his name and his firm? Rob knows a lot of the criminal firms in town.”
“Matt Something-Italian-Sounding. Small firm. Young, so he’s not too expensive.”
“Young and not-expensive aren’t good qualities in a lawyer, Andi. Let me find you someone. Or maybe Hayden knows a good one. You can tell him it’s partial payback for all the crap you’ve had to put up with from him.”
“He doesn’t know.”
She signed. “About the interview?”
“About anything. He doesn’t know what I did. He doesn’t know about this case or the old one.” My chuckle was more sob than laugh—like a sad clown, crying on the inside. “He doesn’t even know my real name.”
“Oh, shit.” Then a lengthy silence. “When were you planning to tell him?”
“A billion different times, in a billion different ways. But every time I could, I couldn’t. You know?” Yeah, awesome excuse.
“So you slept with him but couldn’t tell him your name. Wow. So not cool, Andi.”
“I know,” I whined. “And I feel awful. I kept waiting for the right moment, but it never happened.” Duh, the right time to tell someone you’re a total screw-up and have been lying to them since you met… Is that before or after ‘never?’ “I was going to tell him last night, and then this morning… It was on the tip of my tongue, closer than it’s ever been. But he just lost his job and his marriage, and I made him happy. He was so happy, Em, and I knew it would all change as soon as I said the words.”
“Are you ever going to tell him? Or are your kids going to think their mom’s name is Sara?”
Sira, actually. Not that it would be an issue—Hayden wouldn’t want me for that long. But I deserved Emilia’s disappointment and condemnation, just like I would deserve Hayden’s anger when he found out the truth.
“I’m going to end it. I will.” Then I won’t have to tell him why. I’ll just say the obvious—it was never going to work out anyway. Biggest chickening-out ever, but better than actually hauling out all my baggage, unpacking it, showing it to him, making him feel extra awful, and then having to pack it up all over again before I left. Right? Left. “Oh man, I’m a mess.”
“What you need to do is stop being an idiot.”
“Thanks?”
“You made a mistake, yes. But how long are you going to punish yourself for it? Forever? Stop being so afraid of who you are. Stop hiding. And when something good comes along, accept that you deserve it.”
“Okay.” What else could I say? “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Em.”
After I’d hung up, I stared at the phone, wondering what to say to Hayden, if there was a way to make it all right and what he’d say to me once I confessed. I had to figure out how to do it in the least hurtful way. Of course, the least hurtful way was actually a few months behind me now.
When my eyes got dry and tired, I started to pace. Then I took a shower. And then went to the donut shop. I kept myself busy for the rest of the day. The only thing I didn’t do was pick up my phone.
34
Hayden
I’d never come into the office later than nine before, and those occasions were only because of a morning meeting or something similar. So going up in a full elevator and entering a busy building was a first. And maybe a last. Ironic that by the time I had something worth taking time off for, I didn’t have a job to return to. But walking through the maze at my former workplace didn’t bring great sadness or regret. I had acquaintances here, peers, people to run ideas by or say hello to, but no real friends. Here or anywhere else. So leaving wasn’t hard.
Endings aren’t painful. They’re only nerve-wracking because of what follows them—beginnings. Beginnings are packed with doubt, the knowledge that you’ll have to relearn everything you thought you’d mastered. Hope is the most terrifying thing in life. Because hope makes you ripe for disappointment.
But not today. Today hope had filled me with nothing but excitement. I knew there would be challenges as Sira and I moved forward, but she’d hog-tied me, just like Carson had predicted. And I’d never been more happily trapped.
I took the elevator up to the fifth floor, walked through reception doing the same thing I always did—nodding hello to the same people at the same desks through the same glass walls. Funny that I’d never noticed how many walls there were in this place. Glass walls that kept us separated, everyone in their proper place. Something to hide behind that provided no protection at all.
Bart’s secretary stared at me from her desk. I tried not to be bothered by it. Tried and failed.
“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Beasley?” I asked, flipping to face her.
She rocked back in her chair at the tone of my voice. “He wants to see you.”
“I don’t give a shit if he wants to see me.” I dropped my head forward. “I’m sorry for being crass.” I looked up at her large eyes, her knowing and condescending look. “No. No, I’m not sorry. Please relay the following message to him, if you don’t mind.” I cleared my throat, knowing I was about to commit professional suicide but unable to find a reason to care. “Please tell him that I don’t give a flying fuck what he wants. However, if he expects me to be contrite and kiss his ass, then I will change my mind and happily give said flying fuck to him—as long as he uses it to go hang-gliding with.” I smiled stiffly at her and walked away.
On the way to my office, I grabbed a cardboard box from the copy room.
I saw Bart through my office door. My ex-employer was leaning on my ex-desk in my ex-office of my ex-job.
“Wasn’t sure you’d be coming in today, Bennett,” he said. I wondered how long he’d been waiting for me to show up. Hopefully a while.
“Really? The last time we spoke, you were pretty clear about where you thought I should go. But don’t worry—I’ll be quick. I actually just left a message for you with your secretary.” I started taking books off the shelves, reading their spines to decide which ones I wanted to keep and putting those into the box. I didn’t want many of them. They were reminders of this place and all the mistakes I’d made to get here. The less I remembered, the happier I’d be.
Bart cleared his throat. “The board overruled me. They want you to stay.”
I didn’t respond.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did.”
“They tell me you’re doing better than I knew.”
I laughed, not amused. “Are you here to congratulate me before you call security?”
“I’m here to tell you that things have changed, and you can have your damn job back.”
I turned around to look at him, my boss of six years, my father-in-law of three. “Clare is still gay. I still knew. And you’re still a bigot. So I’m not sure what has actually changed.”
“Damn it, Bennett. Don’t be an idiot. I’m offering you your job back. Your dad’s company back.”
I saw the fear in his eyes—he’d finally figured out what he’d lose when I left. All my clients and contacts, including those involved in Inspex, along with my father’s name and all the status it had provided.
He ground his teeth together. “If you think I’m going to get down on my knees and beg, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Frankly, Bart, the idea of you on your knees for any reason is pretty damn unpleasant. So I think we’ve finally found something we both can be happy about.” I grabbed the box and went behind my desk, picking up the stapler just because. I’d never actually been fired before, so this was all new. Wasn’t I supposed to steal something trivial? Out of a sense of spite I didn’t feel? Now, if I were required to take something out of a sense of relief, that would be different.
“You and Clare will ge
t a divorce, go your separate ways. Fine. But it doesn’t mean you should screw up your life.”
My life? I had no intention of screwing up my life. In fact, I was here trying to salvage it before it was over. I stopped packing and looked at him. “Don’t spend too much time worrying about me, Bart. I think you’ll have other things that will need your focus as soon as I step out that door.”
“You’ve spent six years here, Bennett.” Yep. Six years stuck in this glass box. “Don’t throw it all away.”
I chose to assume he was talking about the pens and notepad in my hand, so I pointedly tossed them into the garbage can. “I need to ask you something, Bart.”
He nodded, spreading his legs as if we were about to go three rounds and he needed more balance.
“Do you think I should get angry? Belligerent? Throw things around?” I asked. “You’re right—after being here for six long years, I’m at a bit of a loss as to how to react. Primarily because I don’t seem to care all that much.”
Bart narrowed his eyes and breathed out long and loud. “I’m giving you another chance, you idiot. You have two days to decide. Then the offer is off the table.”
“The board was right—I’m good at what I do. To prove it, in a way you’ll understand, I’m going to counter your offer. I’ll come back on the following conditions: You take an ad out in the newspaper, admitting exactly who you are and expressing your commitment to becoming a decent human being. And then you beg your daughter to give you another chance. If she agrees, then I will too.”
“You can kiss my ass.”
“You’re not my type, but should I take that as a sign you’re trying to be more open-minded?”
He stomped out, probably angry the door was impossible to slam. I watched it close slowly and quietly before gathering the rest of my things and leaving. The stapler stayed behind.
I dumped the box just inside the apartment door, content with the idea that I wouldn’t be working tonight. Or tomorrow. Sira had said she needed to do a few things—
I couldn’t call her Sira anymore. That was a nickname born out of our working relationship when I’d never imagined I would ever meet her. She was no longer a bunch of words that popped up in a chat box or a voice on the other end of a line. She was real, and beautiful, and not the slightest bit submissive or obedient.
“Sara.” I tried it out a few times as I walked through the foyer. “Sara.”
I wonder if she’d notice the next time we saw each other. I knew Sara was trying to take things slow, something I respected as much as I hated. I was past going slow, considering every possible consequence, showing caution. If it were up to me, I’d stay with her until things were settled with Clare, and then I’d ask Sara to move in here. But telling her that might be a little too forward, so I’d be patient. Until she gave me the slightest hint I could stop.
The second we said goodbye, all I could think about was taking her out for a quick dinner and then taking her back to bed. Therefore, my big plan for this evening was to go to sleep, so I’d be rested when I saw her tomorrow.
“Clare,” I called out as I walked into the living room. “Your father offered me my job back.”
She poked her head out of the kitchen. “Did you take it?”
That’s when I realized that the apartment smelled amazing. “You’re not cooking, are you?” I rushed into the kitchen because Lord knew what would happen if I just walked. I stretched my arm out to navigate the corner and slid on the hardwood floor. Clare stood beaming next to a woman with short brown hair. “Shannon! I— Hello.” I hadn’t spent too much time with Shannon—standing in a room with the two of them had always made me feel like I was forcing Clare deeper into the lie.
“How are you, Hayden?” she asked, turning only for a moment before going back to the stove.
“Fine. Especially now that I know Clare isn’t in the kitchen unsupervised.”
“That’s not nice!” she said, tossing a towel at me. “Did you get your job back or not?”
“It was offered. And, if I’d waited just a few more minutes before insulting him, I think he would’ve actually gotten down on his knees and begged.”
Both of them laughed. “Damn you and your impatience, Hayden!”
I blinked because my world had just gone out of focus. I was unemployed, my soon-to-be-ex-wife and her girlfriend were cooking dinner, and I couldn’t remember a happier time. Except when I was with Sara. Which I would try to be as soon as possible.
Clare handed me a glass of wine and then took a sip of her own. “Shannon and I aren’t back together, nor are we into threesomes, so you can quit smiling like that.”
“No, I was thinking of something else.” I came around the island and peeked over Shannon’s shoulder.
She elbowed me. “Great, now I have two people hovering. It will be ready when it’s ready. Now go away. Both of you.”
I spent the rest of a very pleasant evening with my ex-wife and her ex-lover, ignoring the small voice in my head warning me that things were about to fall apart. That life didn’t offer happy endings for any of us, and that there was a very good reason I’d built the walls up around me.
When we finished eating, Clare set her glass down and cleared her throat. “Hayden, I have a proposal for you.”
“Okay.”
She glanced at Shannon, who gave Clare a ‘just get on with it’ expression. “Since I’ve been disowned and am going to be on my own for basically the first time ever, I need to support myself. I’ve never had a paying job, and my college diploma looks great on a wall but is totally useless, so I started weighing options.”
“I think that’s great, Clare. Let me know if I can help.”
She smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“I thought you might be.” I’d never seen her more nervous or more talkative, but I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going. So I waited for her to get through a speech she’d obviously prepared with Shannon’s help, ready to help her the second I knew how. Our marriage had been a burden for both of us, a continual lie to live and slowly die from, but I still had nothing to blame her for.
“I want to start my own business, Hayden. After going through all of my many talents with Shannon”—she winked—“I came to the conclusion that I’m at my best when I’m living other people’s lives.” They both looked at me expectantly, as if I were supposed to understand what she was talking about. “I want to help people organize their lives—like a freelance advice giver-slash-stuff doer. I can plan their parties, tell them what to wear, how to get things done. Those kinds of things.”
I couldn’t count how many of the Bennett Foundation events Clare had set up, so turning it into a business would barely be a stretch for her.
After I had agreed it would be perfect for her, Shannon cut in. “Clare needs money. I’ve already spoken to Frank, and we’re going to invest enough for some start-up costs. But I can’t offer as much as she needs for ongoing cash flow. So my end will be more of the gathering clients and pimping her out as loudly as I can.”
“It’s perfect for you, Clare.” I nodded slowly. “But I’m not going to loan you money. I think it’s important that you earn it on your own.”
“Hayden!” Shannon snapped, glancing to Clare whose jaw had dropped.
“I’m going to hire you. For Carson. He and Laney need to get married. Those two are so in love, they can’t even think straight. So you should do it for him.”
“You’re such a good man, Hayden.” Clare’s smile hit me hard, but it was what she said next that was so overwhelming, I had to look away. “You deserve that kind of love too, you know?”
Did I? I’d spent my life doing the right thing, or what I thought was the right thing at the time. Living up to other people’s expectations. Professionally, I was everything my bastard of a father would’ve wanted. Privately, too. Probably. He didn’t know how to love someone, and neither did I. His marriage wasn’t happy, and neither was mine. He was dead…and,
until recently, so was I.
But I wasn’t six feet under. I hadn’t hurt the people I care about. I hadn’t abused them. And I was still breathing. I still had a chance to live and be happy. And be loved.
“You still have our checkbook, right?” Then I quickly gave her a number her budget should stay below. I had enough money to be jobless for a long time, but having lived her entire life without ever wondering where the money was coming from, Clare would probably need help with her books. I might even hire someone to advise her while I took a month-long trip to Bora Bora with a certain little brunette I was going to meet tomorrow.
Screw patience—I’d used it all up over an hour ago.
After we’d gone over some details, I excused myself and took my phone into my home office. My only office currently. I wanted to talk to Sara, to hear her voice, now that I could call her freely without worrying about all the things I’d been afraid of disrupting before.
She picked up right away. “Hey, what’s up?” There was an edge to her tone that I didn’t expect. Or understand.
“Is everything alright?”
She paused. No, she hesitated. And I felt that hesitation in my gut. “Listen, Hayden, I made a mistake last night. I didn’t mean to be confusing or make promises I couldn’t keep, but I can’t see you again.”
“What? Why?”
“What happened between us isn’t right. It’s just not…right.”
“Is this about Clare? I told you I’m not very married anymore. Not even mostly married.” My attempt at a joke fell flat before I’d even finished the sentence.
“Even so, maybe you should take some time before you start a new relationship.”
Time? No. I’d already wasted too much of that. “I thought you understood. My marriage was over before it began. It should’ve never happened. I’ve had years of waiting to start a new relationship, a real one, an honest one.” It was hard to speak because it was hard to breathe. My chest, my gut, too tight for air to pass through.