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“I know the pressure he’s under too.” The words snap out of me. The knots inside me move painfully closer to snapping too. “But I’m tired of making excuses for him. I’m tired of accepting less than he should be willing to give the people he loves.”
“Unfortunately, some firms make it hard for a person to walk away from work at the end of the day.”
“I know, but that’s a choice they make.”
“What, between the job and the family?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not always that easy, Charlize. Not when it’s your career you’re talking about.”
“I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying figure out how to be better at managing your priorities. And if they clash all the time, think about whether they really are your priorities. I get it, Dad can’t make it to everything. But making it to nothing says a lot, don’t you think?”
If I thought he was watching me closely before, he’s really watching me closely now. “I know what you’re saying, but I’ve also seen this from the other side. I know the weight that’s felt to perform and to achieve. It’s not as easy as you’re saying.”
“So, what you’re saying is you agree with Nate and my father?”
“Fuck. No, that’s not—”
“It sounds a lot like that’s exactly what you’re saying.”
My knots have frayed so badly there’s no salvaging them now.
My anger breathes all around us.
My inability to hear anything he has to say has roared to life.
When he places his hand on my arm and says, “Let’s take a minute,” I yank my arm out of his grip, and say, “No.”
“No?” He frowns.
“No. I’m not taking a minute.” I turn to the elevator. “I’m going home.” I stab at the elevator button.
“Charlize.” He reaches for me again.
I refuse to let him take hold of me. “No, Owen, I’m tired and I’m angry, and I’m going home.”
“It’s late. Stay here and go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
I stare at the elevator doors. “I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore.”
I know I’m being unreasonable, but I can’t stop myself.
Not even if I tried.
One of my deepest cuts has been ripped open tonight.
My very first cut.
The one my father made.
The one so many men before Owen have carved into too.
I know he has no way of knowing this, but I. Can’t. Look. At. Him. Right. Now.
I can’t explain all of this to him right now.
He curses. “Okay, let me drive you home then.”
