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She didn’t come yesterday. And I didn’t go to her.
Since I made love to her, real love that rocked me to the core, we’ve sent a few friendly text messages to each other. For my part, forced.
I don’t want to lose her. I can’t. But I can’t do that again. I can’t give her every single part of me and get nothing back.
She felt it too. She had to. It’s not possible that something could be so overwhelming for one person and not affect the other. But she didn’t say a word.
I didn’t tell her how I feel. But she had to have sensed it. And she said nothing. Nothing. Not a thing.
‘Ladies. Gents. Thank you for being here. This is obviously a sad and momentous time for the firm.’ Marty addresses the conference room. The partners sit around the large board table. The most junior stand around the periphery, leaning against windows and walls. ‘For more than thirty years, this firm has thrived under the Turner name, no matter what changes have been encountered along the way. I know my own father couldn’t speak highly enough of Richard. It is with a heavy heart that we say goodbye to him as a managing partner, but his legacy will live on in the ethos of our firm. Before we take the vote on the next named partner, Richard would like to say a few words.’
As Richard recounts tales of his time at the firm, sharing anecdotes of bloopers and awkward clients, I glance around the room. My nerves are jangling as I silently count which partners I think will vote in my favor and then count those whom I really couldn’t take a guess at. I only hope that my efforts over the last few weeks have won over those who might have chosen Patrick initially. Others, those who vote on billables, I know I have them in the bag.
‘Without further ado, then, let’s vote on my replacement,’ Richard says. ‘Take a voting slip. Mark down Drew or Patrick and drop your response in this box. Drew and Patrick will not be entitled to vote on this matter. Gentlemen, you both deserve this. Good luck.’
Purely for show, I offer my hand to Patrick, leaning across both Marty and Richard. He takes it. I avoid looking at the other partners as they place their votes. I could try to see where they’re placing their mark. I could look for a subtle nod or wink that might give me an indication of their choice. But it wouldn’t change a thing at this stage.
Instead, I interlace my fingers and place my hands at my waist, trying to hide my anxiety. Patrick drums his fingers on the tabletop, and I swear, if the man doesn’t stop, I’m going to tear off his goddamn fingers.
As partners begin depositing their slips in the sealed black box, Sarah comes into the room, her presence calming me slightly. She winks at me, then makes her way to the far end of the table. When the last slip is in the box, Marty asks Sarah to break the seal and count the votes.
She unfolds the first piece of paper and places it down on the table. ‘Drew.’ She does the same again, placing the next piece on the left side of the box. ‘Patrick.’ She continues through the slips.
We’re neck and neck with three partners left. When Sarah meets my eye, her look is no longer calming my agony; she’s worried.
‘Drew.’ I hold my breath. ‘Patrick.’ Even.
She takes the final voting slip and opens it. She closes her eyes.
Fuck. All these years. All these years of being an asshole and thinking performance alone could get me where I wanted to be. I’ve lost.
She opens her eyes and her lips begin to curve. ‘Drew.’
I try to stay outwardly calm. I try to act as if it was always a sure thing. It never was.
My heart is racing. My mind is in some incomprehensible state.
I stand and shake the hand Patrick offers to me. It’s only when Marty takes hold of my shoulders and rocks me once that I absorb what just happened.
‘Welcome to Statham Harrington, buddy.’
‘Fuck.’
Marty laughs, as does Richard. Richard thumps my back and says quietly to me. ‘You always had my vote, son. I’m glad you took your head out of your ass long enough to win the other votes you needed.’
Sarah throws her arms around my neck. ‘All these years were worth it, huh?’
All these years of denying myself things that might make me happier than spending my life in an office.
‘We did it,’ I whisper as I hug her back.
‘No, Drew, you did it.’
‘Actually, I think someone else deserves some of the credit for making me see the bigger picture.’
And she’s the person I want to tell first. She’s the person I want to drink champagne with. The person I’m madly in love with.
I pull back from Sarah’s hold. ‘I’ve got to go.’
