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She didn't give me a chance to explain myself.
And now I don't have to stay married to her for the rest of the year, because I can inherit the money anyway.
There was an acrid taste in my mouth that I knew was not just from the alcohol. I was going to have to tell her the truth, and soon—so that she could go. I motioned for the bartender. The thought literally drove me to drink.
As a venture capitalist, I took pride in always telling myself the truth. I assessed corporations' strengths and weaknesses, ruthlessly ascertaining the value of their technology. Before I made a major investment, I asked myself a series of questions:
Was the technology a market disruptor? Could it capture a significant share of the market? Was it solving a must-have need?
There were other considerations, but these were the most important. I wanted wow-factor technology. Anything less didn't hold my interest. I guess the same was true in my personal life. I wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship just for the sake of having one.
To me, Blake was the equivalent of a massive market disruptor. She'd captured more than a significant share of the market—she'd captured the whole market. She was solving a must-have need, a need I hadn't even known existed in my pre-Blake world.
For fuck's sake. I was in love with her, and it was never going to work. She could have talked to me tonight. She could've asked me about Chelsea. Instead, she ran.
Bitter disappointment coursed through me as I considered what she must be thinking: That I'd let her down. That she couldn't trust me. That I'd gone behind her back.
Well, I had gone behind her back, but it was to protect her. If I hadn't taken care of Chelsea right then and there, she'd be setting up a press conference and plastering pictures of Blake and me all over social media. Instead, she was on her way to pack for New York. She was going to leave Boston, and she was going to leave us alone.
Us. Who was I kidding? Blake had run away from me without a word. She hadn't even given me the opportunity to explain myself, or defend myself, or even say good-bye.
Christ. Was I saying good-bye to her now?
I grabbed my next Manhattan and proceeded to drown my sorrows. I would say good-bye to her tomorrow. Tonight, I was getting shit-faced.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Blake
After I took two ibuprofen, I texted my mother to let her know I was on my way. She just texted back a question mark. I wasn't sure what I was going to tell her.
My stomach sank as my cab drove into the section of Southie where we lived. South Boston had become home to many young professionals over the past decade, but there was no gentrification in our neighborhood. Faded baby-blue paint peeled in rolls from the exterior of our multi-family building. Weeds grew out of the cracks in the sidewalk out front, and empty cans of Schlitz littered our shared porch.
Home sweet home. I'd always hated it there, but it was worse now because I knew I was never getting out.
My mother was sitting on the couch, wrapped in an old afghan, with a bunch of crumpled tissues next to her.
I hugged her, pulling her close. "What's the matter?"
"Like you don't know." Her voice was wobbly.
I knelt down and grabbed her hands. "Know what?"
She pursed her lips, but her accusatory look faded, replaced by unshed tears. "You don't know about your sister?"
The headache from my hangover started to pound worse. "Is she okay?"
My mother grabbed another tissue and blew her nose loudly. "She's leaving town. Moving to New York, of all places. She's probably going to become a Yankees fan. I don't know where I went wrong with that girl. I tried to raise her right."
I sank down onto the couch next to her. "She's really going?"
My mother blew her nose again. "Yes. She said she ran into some good luck and finally had the money to move. She's going to acting school." She turned and looked at me. "I don't know where all this money came from. I didn't want to tell you this, but I'd lent her some money a couple of weeks ago. Actually, I opened a new credit card so she could get herself some things."
I stiffened. "You shouldn't have done that. You'll never get the money back."
My mother shook her head. "That's the crazy thing—she paid me back last night."
"Huh?" My sister never paid anyone back. Not ever.
