She peeled herself out of her car and walked into her favorite coffee shop in San Jose. Their argument hadn’t really been about the clause. It had been about her loving him and being afraid he would never return it.
The lineup of slouchily dressed students, computer nerds and suits was three deep on either side. She chose the typically faster one and tapped her foot impatiently on the faux hardwood floor. Maybe Jared was right, maybe she was running. Maybe it was just easier that way when you wanted what you couldn’t have.
The line finally cleared. Christian, the jean-clad, scruffy-looking barista who served her every morning, gave her a curious look as she slid a bill toward him. “Didn’t expect to see you here this morning.”
“Because this morning is any different from the last five years?” Her attempted humor came out bitter and unattractive. “Sorry,” she winced. “Bad morning.”
He pushed his funky glasses farther up his nose. “Have you read the paper this morning?”
She shook her head. That was part of her Americano ritual after she’d triaged her email. “Why?”
He yelled her order to the barista mixing the drinks. “It’s been the talk of the place this morning. You should get on that.”
She lifted a brow. “Anything in particular I should be looking for?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.” He pushed her money back at her. “Drink’s on the house, by the way. You look like you need it.”
He took the next customer’s order. Bailey shook her head, picked up her Americano and drove to work, her re-created resignation burning a hole in her pocket.
Aria called as she was walking through the front doors of the office.
“I gotta admit, even with all his imperfections, that would do it for me.”
Bailey frowned, using her elbows to negotiate the doors. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you read the paper this morning?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? What earth-shattering thing has happened? Did Jared make an announcement about Maison?”
“Oh my,” Aria sighed. “You really haven’t read it. He has certainly made a statement, but it wasn’t about Maison.”
“Great,” Bailey muttered. Another illuminating Jaredism to set the internet ablaze.
“Did you say you have your first executive committee meeting this morning?” Aria asked.
Bailey cradled the phone against her ear and jabbed the call button for the elevator. “I do. If I don’t resign first.”
“I suggest you read page five of the Chronicle before you do that. Then call me. I will kill you if you don’t call me.”
“Aria.” She stepped onto the elevator. “What’s going on?”
The iron box swallowed up her call. She hit the button for the twenty-sixth floor, and thought about what Christian had said. Didn’t expect you to be in today… What did that mean?
She exited the elevator, went straight to the PR department where she collected the Chronicle and took it back to her desk. Coffee in hand, she flipped to page five. An open letter from Jared took up the entire page. It was headlined, The Truth about Women—A Rebuttal.
Oh. My. God. He had not. Eyes glued to the page, she started reading.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a manifesto titled “The Truth about Women.” Intended as an honest if tongue-in-cheek summary of my views of women both in the boardroom and bedroom, it has provoked a great deal of debate, resonating with some of you and provoking anger in others.
At the time I wrote it I honestly believed everything I said. Experience had taught me that many women do not want the career life we as a society have insisted they do. That cries of a glass ceiling were perpetuated by females caught up in their own self-deception. And if the truth be known, I was not overly sold on a woman’s place in the boardroom, nor her ability to stand toe-to-toe with a man.
Then I had the chance to work with a woman I have admired for years, my chief marketing officer, Bailey St. John. In keeping with my theme of nothing but the truth here, I have to admit I severely underestimated her talent. I did not give credit where credit was due. She is not only a superior thinker to any other marketer I have ever had the opportunity to work with, male or female, she could likely wipe the floor with most of them.
This extraordinary woman also taught me something else. Something far more important than the value of a woman in the boardroom. She has proven me wrong about a woman’s place in my life. Hers. She has taught me that I can connect with another person on a deeper level, that I do want someone in my life in a forever sense, not just for the sake of the nuclear family, but because I love her. For who she is. For her courage. For what she’s taught me. She has made me a better man.