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“You really want to know every detail about your parents’ marriage?” He lifts a brow. It takes me a few seconds to get his insinuation.
“Oh. I mean, no. But something like this? Yeah, I think so.”
My dad shakes his head then stands, helping my mom to her feet so he can hug her.
“Your father is being modest, but he didn’t want you to think poorly of me. I was afraid you would, so he promised we would never talk about the details with you, and that we would work hard onus.We put in the work,” my mom says.
Effort.
That’s what I’ve been missing. I’m so good at wringing myself dry for football and my own goals. I need to give Morgan that same kind of attention. I need to make her feel like a priority. It’s not something that will distract me. It costs zero time. It’s in the effort, in the ways I spend my time with her. I need to make her feel the way she makes me feel.
“I’m going to get this back to her. She’s been missing it,” I say, flashing her badge then turning to head out the door. I stop with my hand on the knob and turn to look at my dad. “Don’t worry about practice tomorrow. I’m going to hit every pass. You can start thinking about how you’re going to let Toby know he’ll be on the bench a lot more moving forward.”
The slight smirk that ticks up the side of my dad’s mouth lets me know he likes the fire I’m showing. I don’t push things now, but I’m also going to need him to actually sit down and meet Morgan. He owes her an apology, which is not his strong suit. I think he’ll make the effort, though.
Chapter17
Morgan
Iwould almost rather spend the night here in this smoke-scented apartment than go back to my dorm tonight. I didn’t mean to stick around and work so late again, but my mind is soaking up the distraction. And maybe I’m starting to really fall for Opal and Jayne. They’re old school, and I don’t think they’re aware that their way of doing things is incredibly rare in today’s digital age. They’re just missing a bridge to pull today’s world together with their attention to detail.
Turns out their biggest client, Boston Financial, is the one that basically pays the bills. It’s the reason they can do so many cool boutique jobs for businesses—well, like the kind James wants to open one day. Boston Financial asked for a meeting, and being a Bentley I’m privy to the insider shakeups that my gut tells me are the reason for the meeting. Boston Financial is undergoing a transition from father to son at the helm. My father and Roderick McCoy, the outgoing CEO, have had a standing annual golf trip to California going on thirty-years, and knowing what I’ve gleaned about his son Noah, he’s out to really prove himself. Show he can not only hold his dad’s position but shake it up. That means out with the old ways and in with the new when it comes to things that don’t startle investors, and marketing and brand management is low-hanging fruit.
Opal and Jayne are about to get plucked. And discarded.
I channeled my energy today into coming up with an entirely new pitch for Boston Financial’s brand awareness, and I got so invested in it, I found myself still neck-deep in design files when the ladies told me they were heading out for their dinner party. They left me with a key to lock up, and having my own office key—albeit to a musty apartment office trapped in the seventies—gave my mind the jolt it needed to power through.
Now it’s nine at night, and I have to find a way to get home. I’ve alienated Brooklyn thanks to my sharp tongue and inability to hold it when it comes to sharing my concerns about her dating Cameron. Lily has the swim of her life tomorrow. And then there’s James. Whocan’t stand me.I know he didn’t mean it. I even understand the pressures and circumstances that forced him into saying it. But that was two days ago. I haven’t even read his text. Well, that’s not entirely true. I skimmed it for the highlights. I counted threevery’sand foursorry’s. Lots ofso’s.Nothing about it was the James I thought I knew. That James? He wouldn’t send a text. He’d show up.
Left with little option, I call the one person I know who is most like me—Braden. He’s been spending a lot of time in the city thanks to some recent acquisitions, so there’s a good chance he’s still in his office. I give him a ring as I close down my laptop and pile my research into my canvas bag to take back to Welles. I can continue distracting myself with Opal and Jayne’s business future back in my dorm.
“Hey, favorite sister! Let me guess, drunk in the city and need a ride?”
I mock laugh at his greeting, though it is warranted since I have requested his car service for such an occasion more than once—twice.
“Youronlysister is in the city, yes. She is sober, however. I just really don’t want to take the T alone at night.” I bite the end of my pen, hoping he can rescue me.
“Well, first off, we don’t know for sure that you’re myonlysister. I mean, there could be dozens of us running around out there.” We both laugh at my father’s infidelity. It’s easier than taking it personally.
“But yes, I’m finishing up now. Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m on Fourth and Adams. Fifth brownstone from the corner,” I answer. “I’ll wait by the door.”
“Okay, should be there in ten.”
I end the call and gather my remaining things, a little excited to spend more time working on my presentation. I’m not even sure the ladies knew what I meant when I offered to put a pitch together for them. They laughed it off to an extent, probably because they haven’t had to work this hard to keep a client in a long time. Long-time relationships can be that way—steady and easy to get lax with until all of a sudden they’re not.
Deciding to mark this occasion, I pull my phone out and hold it high above my head to capture a photo of myself weighed down with a bag full of meaningful work. I glance at my first take and immediately see flaws in the way my smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes, which are puffy from two days of feeling upset and being exhausted.
Before I delete it, however, I pause and think about my point of taking the photo in the first place. This is me, right now. This is the way I look, and it is certainly the way I feel. Why would I want to erase that? Maybe there’s value in looking back on this moment and remembering how it felt. It’s good to recall that the journey was hard when you come through the other side. It makes the work more meaningful.
I make a note about the image in the caption area and save it to my ME folder along with the one from a few days ago when I felt pretty. Seeing the two images side-by-side, I’m suddenly struck by how different the girl in them looks. I’m the same person with two, and probably more, very different sides. Something about that thought settles in my chest and relaxes me. I put my phone away and wait for Braden to arrive, but that thought lingers with me until his black Tahoe pulls up outside the brownstone.
I climb into his car and tuck the key Opal gave me into my purse. My brother notes the enormous fluffy pig on the keychain as I do.
“This keychain is just the tip of the iceberg. You should see the things in that apartment.” I tap the pig’s head into my purse to make sure it’s secure. then buckle up as Braden shifts into drive.
“And why are you at a strange apartment with stuffed pig chains?”
