She stepped back, her arm keeping distance between us. I let my hands fall at my sides. “You think I’m pretending?”
“I work here, Alex. You’re a patient’s son. It’s one thing when we’re in costume, playacting. That's all that was. So stop flirting and implying to my coworkers that we’re more than friends. If anybody even thought we were acting inappropriately, I could get it trouble.” She stepped farther away, pressing the control panel buttons with considerable force. “What would happen at your law firm if a rumor started about a woman? It would ruin her career, right?”
Victoria had been so careful when we’d been dating and working together: being perceived as anything more than coworkers could impact her partnership promotion. We stuck to firm handshakes in the office, and that distance had carried into our private lives. It wasn't the primary reason we broke up, but it certainly hadn’t helped.
“And anyway, if …" Grace ran her palm over her leg, glancing at me over her shoulder, "there’s something you should —”
My fucking phone rang. My personal phone, not my work phone.
I scowled, ready to silence it. Grace said, “You should answer that, it might be about your dad.”
When I fumbled it out of my pocket, it flashed Victoria Blackstone’s name and contact photo: strawberry blonde hair, gray eyes, and a forced smile. I grunted in annoyance and Grace’s shoulders stiffened.
“What?” I snapped. The relaxing music stopped abruptly.
“Where are you?” Victoria asked, her curt tone matching mine.
“At the hospital.”
Victoria's voice softened. “How is he?”
“Better,” I sighed. “He got discharged yesterday, he’s at PT now.”
“Knowing Bruce, he’ll be on the back nine by summer,” she said. Four years ago, when we were dating, she came home for my parent’s 30th wedding anniversary party. Even after we broke up, when Mom and Dad visited San Francisco, they always took us both out to dinner. Dad shared his best lawyer jokes, Victoria pretended to laugh, and they all talked shop about real estate. “Does that mean you’re coming home soon?”
Home, she said, meaning San Francisco. More accurately, her two-bedroom condo in Dogpatch that I’d moved out of three years ago, though she harbored hopes that I’d move back in.
But a week in my parents’ house reminded me: This had been my home first.
“Now that he’s home, he’ll need me even more.”
She released a tired sigh. “When will you be back on your computer?”
“About an hour.” I glanced at the gold Patek Philippe watch she gave me as an apology gift, but I couldn’t read those complicated clocks in the dark. “What happened?”
“Regulatory compliance gap,” she said.
“Fuck, can’t those sissies do anything right?” I squinted as the bright overhead lights came on.
“Hamilton emailed you two hours ago,” she said. Shit, Hamilton was an equity partner, if he caught my delay, I looked negligent.
I started to snap at Victoria in annoyance, but paused. She was the messenger. This call was a professional courtesy. None of the other senior associates were reaching out to warn me; those vultures hoped I would fail so they’d have a better chance at the partnership spot with my name on it.
I bit back my angry retort and instead asked, “Are you taking care of it?”
“I would, but I also found unclear renewal conditions in the Brooklyn lease.” I paced, knocking into the small tent. Grace’s heeled boots echoed, leaving the sensory room. “Alexander, I can’t keep plugging these holes.”
Her exhausted tone told me what she would never say: Victoria, who never admitted weakness, was struggling without me.
She’d been sitting next to me last week when I’d been called out about Dad. I’d gone back into the conference room and she’d recognized I was distracted, pinged my computer for an update, staying professional in the conversation but messaging me privately with articles about cardiac survival rates. When Grace called back, Victoria came to my office to listen because I valued her opinion.
After I hung up, Victoria said, “If you decide to go home, I could …”
Her cool gray eyes met mine. She wet her bottom lip as if tasting the offer on the tip of her tongue: She could come with me. Lately, she’d been hinting that we could give our relationship another try, implying that once we both got promoted to firm partners, nobody could accuse her of sleeping her way to the top.
She'd even started matching her dresses to my ties again, the little touch of intimacy she'd allowed herself.
“You could what, Victoria?” My voice was raspy and raw.
“I could …“ I wondered if she wanted me to ask her to come, to extend the bridge. It would have been nice not to be alone. At the very least, she’d call my mom, share flight information, deal with that shit.
But it would have meant more. If she got on that plane, it would be a public declaration that we were together, that my family would someday be hers. It would re-open negotiations about living together, getting married, and starting a family. She wanted the first two, I wanted the last one. When we first started dating, I asked hypothetical questions like, 'How many kids would you want?' with the hope that she'd share a big number. She tabled the discussion for when our careers were established.
So I learned to stop asking. Or hoping.
Now our careers were on the cusp of advancement. If I wanted to progress into an equity partnership, I'd need more than just legal skills, I'd need a strong network for business development and financial resources to invest in the firm. Marrying Victoria would give me both. It would be the right move for my career.
Asking her to come home would be a step towards that future. Our eyes met as her unspoken offer hung between us like San Francisco’s famous fog …
The emotion cleared from her face. “I could remind them that you’ll only be four hours from Brooklyn if they need boots on the ground at the target company.”
Decision made. She couldn’t risk her promotion, not without a promise I wasn't willing to make.
I hid my mix of disappointment and relief at her rescinded non-offer with a cocky grin. “You’re brilliant, you know that?” I hit the intercom on my desk. “Connor, book me the next flight.”
I’d left her to do her job and most of mine … and we were both struggling.
“I’m doing the best I can.” The door creaked open and light spilled in from the adjoined office. “I’ll review the compliance audit at home.”
