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“Too selfless,” I say without thinking.
Joel shrugs. “True.”
I look at him. What?
“Most of the time, you think of everyone but yourself.”
“When?” I ask.
“When we were kids, you’d buy Christmas presents for me and Claire and for your brothers, but you never used your savings to buy anything for yourself. You used to give your lunch to me even though it meant you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You once gave your favorite watch—an expensive limited edition watch—to a homeless person.”
I’d forgotten about all those times.
“You always think of Claire, too, before yourself,” I remind him. “Remember that guy whose homework you did?”
“Because I had to,” Joel says. “Our parents had died. I had to take care of Claire. You didn’t have to do anything.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t have helped anyone?” I ask him. “You’re saying I’m a bad person for trying to help others?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying, then?”
“That sometimes you care about others too much for your own good.”
“And that’s bad because?”
Joel sighs. “You don’t see it because you’re the one helping, because you believe what you’re doing is right. And it is. But that time you gave your watch to a stranger, I was angry.”
“You were?”
I didn’t know.
“Wait. Did you want that watch?”
“No, but you did. Why didn’t you think you deserved to have it?”
“I only thought the guy needed it more. I had other watches.”
“But you liked that watch. And you bought it with your own money. You had a right to keep it. It made me so angry to think you thought you didn’t, that you were such a good guy but you couldn’t see how good you were. Maybe it’s because your two older brothers were smarter or better at sports or whatever, or maybe it’s just because you were the youngest, but I felt like you always thought of yourself as someone who wasn’t as good as they were, someone who wasn’t good enough.”
That’s what Joel felt? He never told me.
He pats my shoulder. “So yeah, maybe that woman you were seeing felt the same way. Maybe she got angry because to her, you’re special and you’re this wonderful guy, but you don’t see it.”
“Actually, she got angry because she felt like I always put her last.”
“Because she puts you first and you put yourself last,” Joel says.
I sigh. “So I’m supposed to be more selfish in order for her to want to stay with me? That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re supposed to put her first,” Joel tells me. “Always. That’s what I do.”
I know he does.
“But doesn’t that annoy Natalie sometimes?” I ask him. “When you always ask for her opinion?”
Joel nods. “You have a point. Maybe it’s best to take turns making decisions, or to decide together, but you definitely shouldn’t let anyone else decide what the two of you should do.”
He turns back to the mirror.
“I think I’ll stick with this black necktie. You, my friend, should make up your mind about how badly you want to be with this woman, because if you want to be with her badly, you’ll be the man she wants you to be. And if she’s a good woman, which I think she is, that means you’re going to be a better man.”
He pats my shoulder.
“Good luck.”
Then he peeks into the back of the shop.
“Um, excuse me. You can come back now.”
The tailor returns. I go back on the podium so he can finish his job. As he does, I think about what Joel just said.
How badly do I want to be with Claire?
Badly, I realize. But can I be the man she wants me to be?
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. What kind of man do I want to be?
The answer is right in front of me—Ryker Hawthorne. My own man. My own person.
I don’t want to be Ethan’s puppy or anyone’s puppy. I don’t want to live anyone else’s life. I want my own.
I want to look in the mirror and be able to recognize myself instead of wonder who I am. I want to be proud of what I see. I want my reflection to be smiling.
I want to be the head of Hawthorne Foundation. And I want to be with Claire.
Slowly, the lips in the mirror curve into a smile.
I know what I have to do.
~
I knock on the door to Ethan’s office.
“Come in,” he says.
So I step inside. Ethan is sitting behind his desk. He looks up from his computer and his eyebrows arch when he sees me.
“Ryker.” He leans back in his chair. “When is your flight to Jamaica?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” I answer.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“Actually, there is.”
I hand him the folder beneath my arm.
He gives me a puzzled look as he receives it. “What’s this?”
“Just take a look at it.”
He opens the folder. I fidget with my tie as he goes through the papers. I hold my breath as I wait for his feedback.
