“So, darling daughter, why are you really here?” Her blue eyes narrow as she sets her coffee on the table. “Because I sense there’s more.”
“There is,” I agree, trying to find the right words. “I guess I wanted to ask you how you knew going from PR to general manager of the Kings was the right move for you. You were so good at PR, people still talk about you.”
“Why are you kissing my ass, Olivia?” And there she is—my mother, the woman who cuts to any chase as efficiently as possible. “Do you want a job?”
“God, no.” I choke on my coffee and grab a napkin as it comes out of my nose. “I love you, Mom. But there isn’t a chance in hell I can work for you.”
She hands me another napkin. “Well, you’ve got my attention.”
“You told me once leaving PR to run the Kings was easy because it’s all you ever wanted to do. I want to know how you knew it was the right time.”
“Livvy... you’re speaking in definites, when that just wasn’t the case. It was something I’d always wanted, and when the opportunity came, I took it. But you have to know quite a few things had to line up in order for that to happen. So when they did, I made the jump. Fate is fickle, Liv. If I hadn’t done it then, I’m not sure the opportunity would have come back around a second time.” She places her coffee down and picks up my hand. “Why are you asking? I thought you loved your job.”
“I thought I did too...” I agree. “But have you ever been in a room where you know you’re not being respected?”
“Yes,” she answers immediately and gently grabs my chin, forcing my eyes from my coffee cup to her face. “And I walked right out. You, my beautiful girl, are Olivia Kingston St. James. You are a powerhouse. And you need no one’s permission to bethe absolute best at whatever you choose to do. Don’t you dare let anyone—man or woman—disrespect you.”
“I think I want to quit my job,” I finally admit, half expecting a choir of angels to come down from the heavens and sing with the relief I feel, finally saying that out loud.
“Okay, why?” And people wonder why I’m so blunt.
“Because I do twice the work for half the pay and none of the respect I think I deserve,” I admit, ashamed that I’ve let it go on for so long.
She drops her hand from my face and turns toward me, giving me her full attention. “Then why haven’t you already quit?”
“I thought they were going to make me partner.” For a fucking year. I should have known better.
“And if they’d made you partner, do you think you’d have been happy?”
“Honestly...” I pull my legs up onto the couch and wrap my arms around them. “I think I would have stayed, and who knows, I probably would have convinced myself I was happy. But it’s not what I really wanted.”
“What do you want?”
“To quit.” The words feel raw, like they’ve been ripped from my throat. “I want to start my own firm.”
“Your own agency?” Mom asks, and I shake my head.
I thought I’d be scared to answer the question I knew was coming.
Turns out, I’m not.
“No, I’d like to open a crisis management firm.” And it’s like the floodgates have opened. “I want to decide who I work with and how I help. I love the adrenaline rush that comes with helping people through the biggest crises in their lives. I love the way the law works into it, but it’s not actually a law firm. So I can be...flexible. I want control. I want autonomy.”
“Livvy, it sounds like you already know the answers to all your questions. Why are you here?”
I shrug and stand, taking a closer look at the black-and-white photos lining her wall.
The Superbowl wins.
The family photos with the Lombardi Trophy.
Our lives are on these walls. Our childhood was on that field. “I guess I always thought I’d do something in sports. It was never going to be as an athlete, and let’s face it, Mom, there’s only one Scarlet Kingston-St. James, so it was never going to be as you either. But being an agent was my way of continuing our family’s legacy.”
And before I know it, Mom is standing behind me, her hands on my shoulders. “Olivia,youare the legacy. You and Brynn and Killian. You three are the living embodiment of my legacy. No matter what you choose to do, you carry a piece of your father and me with you. It doesn’t matter where you work. It matters that you’re a good person. It matters that you’re happy. That you’re healthy. And that you are challenged and rewarded every day—because you, my sweet girl, are far too intelligent to settle for easy.”
I stare up at the final photo. The one of the five of us standing on the fifty-yard line. The Kings had just won a Superbowl after a few bad years. Mom and Dad are kissing, while Killian, Brynnie, and I stand with our hands in the air and confetti falling all around.
Legacy is a funny thing.
