Ruthless In A Suit(4)

And then I think of how I’m probably never going to get her back. It still hurts like a motherfucker, but it’s true.

The crazy thing is, I messed everything up with Cadence just because I wanted to see my plan through to get the firm back. But ironically, I’d now gladly give the firm away, and every red cent I’ve ever earned—just for the ghost of a chance to have Cadence in my life someday.

It’s weird how life works sometimes.

Weird, and painful…but maybe it’s also kind of perfect. Maybe this is what I needed to learn. Maybe I can still do the right thing, even if Cadence isn’t around to appreciate it.

Even if not having her with me feels like my chest is being opened up with a dull kitchen knife.

“I’m in,” I say, my voice suddenly loud and firm.

I’m already drafting my resignation letter to the board in my head.

“Holy shit, I didn’t think that was going to work,” Logan says, staring across the table at his wife, but Julia just grins her trademark Cheshire grin.

“I had faith,” she says, grinning wider now.

“We didn’t even talk salary,” Logan says.

“Don’t care,” I replied. “Just give me enough to live on. That’s all I need.”

“There are details to discuss,” Julia says.

“Then let’s discuss them together. Now. Because I’m in.”

We spend the rest of the meal discussing office space and start-up costs and other details. We agree to call the new venture Cabot Essex Maxon, our names in alphabetical order.

I’m already plotting my call to a real estate broker to put the Back Bay mansion on the market. I’ll buy myself something small, something cozy and comfortable like what Logan and Julia bought, and throw the rest of the money into our new firm to find us office space. Unless—

“Hey, what do you guys think of using my place for offices,” I say.

“The Back Bay house? For real?” Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I can do some retrofitting to turn the top two floors into an apartment for me, and we can use the bottom two for the firm. It won’t take much construction,” I say, and though I don’t add it, it will give me a lot of joy to use my father’s inheritance to start up a new firm. A firm whose mission is to support the people, not corporate titans. He’d hate it.

I love it.

I dive into the beef stew, the first meal I’ve actually enjoyed since my father died. It feels like the first meal I’ve eaten in weeks. And the energy that fills me, whether it be from the food or the plans for a new future, makes me practically skip out of the apartment when we’re done.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” I say, hugging Logan with a firm pat on the pack, then giving Julia a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re a good guy, Levi,” Julia says, pulling me in for a hug. “She’ll see it. I don’t know when, but I know she will.”

I pull away and try not to show the pain in my eyes, but I’m sure Julia can spot it a mile away. “We’ll see,” I say.

Walking out of the apartment, I pass the local dog park. Beneath a blue pop-up canopy just outside the gate is a card table and several pens. An animal rescue group is busking for cash.

“We’re taking donations to help stray animals,” a heavy-set woman in jeans and a zip-hoodie calls. She shakes a gallon jug with a hole cut out of the top, which is about half-full of coins. The money makes a satisfyingly substantial rattle. “Do you have any change to spare?”

I pause, then cross towards her. Normally I’d hustle by, maybe dropping in a few coins if I had them in my pocket. It’s not as if I’m not charitable, I just rarely have the time for such things. I’m always rushing to the office or a meeting. I can never afford a moment to spare. But now?

“Do you take checks?” I ask.

She blinks at me, clearly surprised by my response. “Yes sir,” she says, finally pulling herself together. “You can make them out to the Boston Area Animal Rescue Fund.”

I pull my checkbook out of my leather work bag and quickly scrawl in an amount, signing it with a flourish. I tear it from the pad and pass it to her.

She smiles and thanks me before looking at the amount, but when her eyes land on it, they grow wide as dinner plates.

“Are you sure about this?” she says, breathless. Then her eyes narrow. “Is this for real?”

“Yes ma’am,” I say. “I’ve recently come into some money, and I’d like to see it do some good in the world. So please, use this money to help the animals.”

And then I hear a little bark, followed by a growl. Sitting next to her, ears up and at attention, is a yellow lab. He’s trying his hardest to appear vicious, but the thumping tail on the ground gives him away.