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“Overslept?”
The astonishment in her voice didn’t make me feel any better.
“Yeah. I was late to the Mackenzie mediation.”
“Oh shit,” she said, so low it was barely a whisper.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
I huffed, irritation flaring at having to recount this to her. I wasn’t a perfectionist by any means, but I was serious about my work and my reputation. I didn’t like disappointing anyone. And I especially didn’t like feeling like a fool.
Which was exactly what had happened.
“I raced in there forty-five minutes late, and everyone was on their way out. They were all pissed. Raber, of course, chewed me out right there in front of them. It was beyond embarrassing.” I sat up and trudged to my kitchen. I’d been like this all day, unable to settle down. I was up and down, back and forth all goddamn day. “I felt like a joke.”
Taylor didn’t say anything right away, and that only ratcheted up my anger. It wasn’t her fault, and I had no one to blame but myself, and yet I needed someone—her—to calm me down.
“Dominic was furious with me, because, of course, Raber went back to him about it.”
“Oh man, that really sucks,” was all she said.
“It’s my reputation, you know?”
“Yeah, but it was a mistake.”
“A mistake during a really crucial time in one of the biggest cases of my life.” I hung my head. “I shouldn’t have stayed out so late last night.”
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, and even though she had nothing to apologize for, I nodded anyway. “You didn’t have to do that.”
No, I didn’t, but I wanted to. I wanted to be there for Taylor when I saw how hard of a time she was having with her sister. I wanted to take off some of her weight, show Kennedy a good time for a couple of hours, but in the end, I was so wrapped up in what was going on with Taylor, all I did was fuck things up for myself.
I realized with my fingers clenching around the lip of the kitchen counter that all week, I’d been slacking off. My intentions were good, sure, but the outcome was fucked.
With our reviews coming up soon, I couldn’t forget that no matter what I felt for Taylor, I still wanted the promotion. I’d worked hard my entire life to get to this point; I couldn’t give up now.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, and I pivoted to open the fridge and snag a beer.
“I’m not crying in a corner, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Sorry,” she said defensively, “you don’t have to snap at me. I was just asking. I know you’re pissed, but this will pass.”
“Will it?” I asked, tossing the cap into the sink. “Because it seems like I fucked up pretty well, and I’m sure Novak & Novak like their senior partners to be on time all the time.”
“But it was one time, and your work speaks for itself. You’ve never had issues or complaints from any other clients. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
Except she couldn’t. Because we were both fighting for the same position, and my mistake gave her a leg up.
“Look, I’m gonna get going. I don’t want to fight, and I’m in a bad mood, so that’s pretty much where this will go.”
“Right. Well, I was calling to let you know that I’m going to be in Philly for the weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.”
After swallowing down a gulp of beer, I set it on the table, sans coaster. Because that was how pissed off I was. Then I scrubbed my hand over my head. “All right.”
“Text me…if you want.”
“Mmhmm.”
