The first thing I feel is warmth. I open my eyes to see James’s face close to mine, our bodies still pressed together. My heart lurches at the sight of him and the memory of last night. I think something may have changed for us in that moment, and I don’t want to spoil it.
I don’t want to face this morning. I want to stay in this bed forever. But I can’t. I have to go. I start my new job today. With my father. My stomach roils at the thought, but I can’t do what James said. I can’t just walk away from my life and my family. I’m not strong enough to do that.
Slowly, I move out from underneath James’s arm. I’m careful not to wake him. I brought some work clothes with me and I retrieve them now from my bag, along with my makeup, and then retreat into the bathroom for a shower. While imagining myself showing up at my father’s office in pajamas with no makeup and terrible bed head gives me some pleasure, it will only make things harder for me in the end.
James is awake when I come out of the bathroom. He’s sprawled across the bed, beautifully naked with an impressive hard-on. If I didn’t have to go I would take advantage of it. I take a moment to call a cab from one of my apps.
His eyes travel up and down my body, taking in the suit and the makeup. “I thought you might change your mind,” he says.
I sigh. “It’s not that simple, James. You know that.”
He pulls a pair of sweats on. “No, I don’t know that. What happened to all the things we talked about? You can do this. You don’t have to let your father hold your leash.”
“Excuse me?” I turn on him, my cheeks going hot. “Hold my leash?”
I can see that he’s gritting his teeth. “That’s not what I meant—”
“No, it is. You mean that I’m my father’s little puppet and I’ll do whatever he says.”
“No,” James says, folding his arms across his chest, “that’s not what I meant. I meant that what you do really has nothing to do with him. You don’t have to choose this.”
I shove the rest of my things into my suitcase. “I don’t see any alternative. I have no means of my own. Maybe in a couple years after I have some real savings I can leave. There isn’t a choice.”
His voice is softer. “I thought, after last night…”
I finish zipping up the suitcase. “What? What did you think?”
“I—you felt it last night, didn’t you?”
I can’t pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about, no matter how upset I am right now. “Yeah, I did.”
“And?” he asks.
“And…I don’t have the words to describe it. It was perfect. But it doesn’t change what’s happening in my life.”
The look on his face is suddenly desperate. “You can do this, Vera. I can help you with whatever you need. You can choose me.”
I freeze, a shot of cold going through me. “Are you saying that if I go to work for my father, we’re finished?”
His face hardens. “I don’t know. I do know that working for your father is the last thing you want. Everything I’ve learned about you tells me that you’re passionate—that you are fierce, and brilliant, and independent. But making this choice? Out of fear? It’s going to eat away at you, and all of that passion will be crushed. Along with everything that makes you ‘you.’ I don’t know if I want to see that happen.”
I feel hot tears behind my eyes but I blink them back. “I don’t have a choice, James.”
I take my suitcase to the front of the house, and I see the cab pull up outside. I don’t want to leave. It feels too final, too real. But it will be okay. He’ll be okay. I’ll fix it later. We’ll be okay. We have to be.
“Vera.” I turn, finding James in the middle of the living room. There’s no hint of a smile or softness on his face. I do see sadness though. “I know what it’s like to not have any choices. You’re choosing this.”
Outside, I hear the cab driver honk their horn. I shake my head and leave the house before I can say anything else to make this worse.
17
Vera
My security photo is awful, but I suppose that’s to be expected. I feel like I’ve been through every office in this building filling out paperwork and getting an ID. I have an office already set up for me and it’s big for someone at my level. I suppose it’s meant to be a peace offering of sorts, but I still hate it. I hate everything. I hate the suit that I’m wearing, and I hate the color of these walls. I hate how I left things with James this morning. I hate that my suitcase is sitting in the corner and I hate the note sitting on my desk. I hate that it’s telling me to meet my father in his office at ten a.m.