“But he was okay to go to lunch.” I wiped a nonexistent drop of wine from the outside of my glass. Why had he agreed to lunch knowing I would be there and then had a problem with me working on the account?
Grace nodded. “He was probably curious, wanted to see if you’d forgiven him.”
Lunch had been fine. Polite and professional. Had he really expected anything else?
“And he probably didn’t give any thought to how you’d feel about it,” Grace continued. “I’m sure he’s like most men—too focused on themselves to worry about anyone else.”
Selfish was exactly what my father was. When I was little and he didn’t turn up when he said he would, I would pretend to my mom it was no big deal. I remember understanding he made her cry, a lot, and that she’d cry more if I was disappointed. So I learned early to mask my hurt and upset. But it was soon replaced by anger and frustration I wasn’t so good at covering up.
I looked up from my glass to find Grace poised with a top up. “I’d be surprised if he was trying to sabotage your career,” she said as the wine glugged into my glass. “I’m sure he could have stopped you from getting a job on Wall Street very easily if that’s what he’d wanted to do. Did he tell Max to fire you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Just said he didn’t want me working on the account because he wanted to keep the personal and professional separate.”
Maybe Grace was right and it had been less about my father trying to ruin me and more about him protecting himself. Tears welled in my eyes. I covered my face with my free hand in some kind of futile effort to stop them from falling.
If I wasn’t so embarrassed by the fact my father hadn’t wanted me working on the account just like he hadn’t wanted me when I was born, things might be different. A regular client requesting a team change would have been bruising but I’d have gotten over it. My father requesting I didn’t work on his account if we were on good terms may have been bearable, but it was the Max element that made it so humiliating. Somehow, having told him about my father, having confided in him, I found his decision to accept my father’s wishes without question rusted the knife, made the cut deeper.
I’d wanted to work for Max King for as long as I could remember and I’d ruined it by sleeping with him.
“It’s such a betrayal,” I managed to choke out.
The cushions beside me dipped and I moved my hand as Grace took my wine from me. She grinned. “I’m sorry. I can’t have you spill red wine over this beautiful couch. Let it out, have a good cry, but don’t hold red wine while you’re doing it.”
I laughed, her concern over her couch breaking me out of my misery. “You’re right. This couch is too good to spoil for a man. You pretend you don’t like the finer things in life, my friend, but you can’t help generations of breeding.”
She took a sip of the wine she’d just taken from me. “I know. However hard I try, I can’t help reverting back to type. I have such good taste.”
I laughed. “You do. However much you fight it, you’re always going to be a Park Avenue princess.”
“There, you see? At least I can make you laugh with my ridiculous life choices.” Grace shifted, sitting cross-legged on the couch facing me, giving me her full attention. “Speaking of ridiculous choices, tell me about the resigning thing.”
“Max had a decision to make. He knew how I felt about my father and he didn’t hesitate to pick him over me.” I shook my head. “If he’d just been my boss, if I hadn’t told him how my father had abandoned me, I might have been able to swallow getting kicked off the JD Stanley account. But the way he so easily chose business over me was just too much.” It was as if he’d drawn a line in the sand and said my feelings would never be more important than his job.
“I didn’t realize it was that serious between you two,” she said.
“It’s not serious.” Perhaps it had become more serious than I’d realized.
“But serious enough that you want him to pick you over his job,” Grace said. I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say. “What did he give as an excuse?” Grace asked.
“He just said that the client can pick the team.”
Grace winced.
“Don’t you dare say he’s right.” He wasn’t right, was he? “It would be different if Max and I weren’t fucking, but we are. Were. I’m not just his employee.” I wasn’t sure what we were to each other and I supposed it didn’t matter anymore. But he’d owed me something. Some kind of loyalty. Hadn’t he?