Man in Love

by Laurelin Paige

I reached out and covered her hand with mine. “What are we going to do, Tey?”

  “I don’t know.” She squeezed my hand. Then she let go so she could grab the whole box of tissues this time, placing it between us before taking one to wipe her eyes. “I’ve said I was done with her before—a million times—and when she showed up fucking engaged…” She let out a breath. “That was one hundred percent the end. No more. Finished. And then you told me Scott wasn’t going to go through with it, and stupid me. But I got radio silence from her. Until this week. She called, and there I was at her doorstep. This whole time you were away, I spent with her.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “She told me she wasn’t really going to marry him, said she was sorry for even considering it, but that she had to pretend for the DRF, and after that...after that, she promised we could be together. She’ll tell her parents and everything.”

  My chest felt like it was being crushed by an elephant. It was familiar. And being on the outside, I could hear what bullshit it was. “And?”

  “And I thought of you,” she said. “I thought about how you aren’t putting up with it. And I realized I’m not that strong.”

  “That’s not true.”

  She ignored me. “But I want to be. I need to be. For my own sake.”

  Ugh. I wanted to be supportive. But I also wanted her to be happy. And I wanted to be happy. And I wanted to be with Scott. Which was why I wasn’t capable of telling her not to be with Kendra. Not yet, anyway. Maybe never.

  “Maybe we could double date them. They’ll be engaged, and we can pretend we’re together, and then we just always hang out as a foursome.” I wasn’t serious. But it felt good to pretend I was.

  “Bet we’d get to go to some damn good parties that way.”

  “And the opera.”

  “Box seats. We could stare longingly across the theater at each other.”

  We laughed. That oh-my-God-it-hurts-so-I-have-to-laugh kind of laugh.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked when we weren’t able to find any more of the humor in our situation.

  The obvious answer was live in my pajamas, eat lots of ice cream, and play sad Taylor Swift songs on repeat. When it had just been me who was miserable, that had felt like a perfectly fitting agenda.

  Now that it was both of us, I was more motivated to find the road out of despair. I cared more about her emotional well-being than my own, it seemed. Or it was easier to see someone else’s pathway than it was to see mine. Or a combination of the two.

  “I think,” I said, still searching for the answer. “I think we have to choose ourselves. I mean, we could keep being depressed about it. About not being the one that was chosen. Because it fucking sucks that Kendra is choosing her parents’ opinion over you, and it sucks knowing that Scott chooses to let his parents control his life rather than be with me. I am plenty ready to be glum about that for a long time. But eventually, that’s going to get old, and neither of us wants to let them break us.”

  “No, we don’t,” she agreed.

  “So I think we have to stop waiting for someone else to choose us, and we have to choose ourselves. We have to choose to love ourselves the most, even if they don’t. We have to choose to want the best for us because relying on someone else to do that for us hasn’t gotten us shit.”

  I really didn’t know how much of my speech was for Teyana anymore because now I was really talking to me. I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. I was tired of blaming my issues on my father and my ethnicity and the men I dated and the woman I worked for. There were factors against me, yes, but they didn’t have to define the things I could control. I could change who I dated. I could change my work situation. I could choose to make myself the priority in my own life.

  Maybe this was a better way for me to approach my life than the Sebastian expect-it-to-get-it method. At least for right now. Because I wasn’t quite sure the things I’d been wanting to get were the best things for me to have. I needed to make better choices for myself before deciding what to go after.

  “I’ve relied on you, and that hasn’t gotten me shit,” Tey said. “But everyone else—you’re right. Like, I have an illness, but if I chose to put myself first and took care of my health preventatively, I bet I’d have fewer POTSie days.”

  “And I don’t have to work for Kendra.”

  “Don’t think you have to quit because of me. I know you love what Conscience Connect stands for.” She’d spent so much time cajoling me about being loyal to Kendra, it was almost weird to hear her be supportive.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Though it didn’t really help me decide what I should do. “I need some more time to think. I’m going to ask K for a leave of absence so I can get all my ducks in a row. I have more vacation time stocked up, and my mother gave me some money when I visited, so that should buy me some time to make a decision that isn’t based in heartache.”

  “I like that idea.” She considered for a few seconds. “And I’m going to stick to a healthy sleep schedule and actually do the exercises that my doctor prescribed.”

  I followed her gaze to my bedside clock. It was already eleven. When I looked back at her face, she was wincing. “I guess that means I need to head to bed now.”

  A good friend would encourage her, I thought.

  But a good friend also knew the benefits of a mopey girls’ night.

  “We’ll choose ourselves tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight, we choose ice cream.”

  Eighteen

  Scott

  Brett walked briskly at my side along the hallway of the fifty-seventh floor of the Sebastian Center. The floor where the board held all their meetings. My father’s floor.

  “This file has everything you needed from me: performance reports, press clippings, my CV, etc.” He handed me the manila folder, then held up a second, thicker folder. “I filled this one with old versions of the sponsorship agreement in case you end up needing them. It doesn’t include the latest one from the lawyers, though I’m sure your father will have a copy of that. Either way, it looks good to walk in with a thick file. I put the letter you asked me to print on the top.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” I stacked the folders on top of each other, Brett’s employment file on top.

  A couple of strides later, we, and the boardroom, were in sight.

  “This is where I leave you,” he said, stopping several yards from the door. He peered through the glass windows at the long table and the people—mostly men—sitting around it. “I’m definitely not wanted in there.”

  “Not yet. You will be.” I recognized that hungry look in his eyes. He was ambitious, more ambitious than I’d given him credit for before. Hopefully, today’s actions would set him on a path that could get him where he wanted.

  Especially because I had a feeling that rising up in the ranks at SIC really was what he wanted, rather than what someone wanted for him.

  I cast my own gaze toward the boardroom. I’d thought this had been my goal too once upon a time. As soon as I’d given myself permission to want something else, that had changed.

  Want it or not, it was still intimidating.

  “You ready for this?” Brett asked, seeming to sense my apprehension.

  If I had all the time in the world to prepare, I wasn’t sure I’d be ready for this.

  But I had what I needed. My thoughts were in order. I had a plan. “Yeah. I’ve got this.”

  “You talked to Kendra?”

  Instinctively, my free hand went to pat my breast pocket. “Yesterday. She’s completely behind me.”

  “Good, good. Me too, though I obviously have selfish reasons.”

  “You were behind me before you knew you’d get anything out of it. I appreciate that. Pretty sure things wouldn’t have worked out like this without you pointing me in this direction.”

  He tilted his head dismissively. “You would have thought of it eventually.”

  Maybe. But it had already felt like a life
time since I’d seen Tess, and I was grateful for anything that made seeing her again not so far away.

  With my gratitude came the inevitable twist of guilt. “You do realize that I’m going to be setting you up for a lot of shit to clean up, right?”

  He repeated the same thing he’d said over and over the past couple of weeks that we’d been conferring. “Best way to prove yourself to your bosses is through a crisis. It’s the only way I can hope to one day be in that room. As a Lesser Sebastian, I can’t get an invite by agreeing to get married. I have to work for it.” He winked. “And don’t worry. I already have some ideas.”

  “Have them ready. I expect you’ll have a meeting with my dad yourself before the day is done.”

  “Then I’d better get back downstairs.” He gave me a supportive clap on the shoulder. “Let me know what happens.”

  “You’ll be the first person I call.” Or perhaps second. I’d promised to call Grandpa too.

  Neither of them were who I knew I’d really want to call.

  Thinking of Tess—when wasn’t I thinking of her?—as Brett headed toward the elevator, I took my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the text thread that I seemed to check five hundred times a day. Still no texts from her, but it didn’t stop me from looking. In the four weeks since I’d seen her, she had yet to answer a single phone call or message. She hadn’t blocked me, though, and the notification indicator on my phone showed that she read every message I sent, usually within minutes of my sending.

  So I’d messaged her a lot.

  Complete one-sided conversations, letting her know about my day, how much I thought of her, how much I missed her. How much I loved her. Even without her answering, it helped me feel closer to her. Sometimes the little “Tess has read your message” notification was all that kept me going.

  Soon, that wouldn’t be all I had of her.

  Buoyed by that thought, I held up the phone and snapped a picture of the boardroom. I sent it to her with a short text.

  First day at the grown-up’s table. Can’t wait to tell you all about it.

  I hadn’t told her anything so far. Hadn’t given her the slightest hint about my plans. Not because I was afraid she’d talk me out of it or because I wanted to surprise her, but because this thing I was about to do was something I had to do myself. For myself. Before I could be the man I needed to be for her.

  I was still staring at my screen when my father bustled by. “Are you going to dawdle all day, or are you coming in with me?” he asked without stopping.

  “Just waiting for you.” I put my phone back in my pocket, and taking a deep breath, I followed him in.

  “Gentlemen. Ladies.” My father moved to stand behind the chair at the head of the table, adding the latter part as an afterthought. Seven years now there had been women on the SIC board, and he still hadn’t accepted it as the norm.

  What an asshole.

  “I’m sure you all already know my son, Scott. He’ll be leaving his position as VP of image and outreach and filling the role of VP of communications.” More of a lateral move than a promotion, and only barely out of the PR department, but he was able to say he’d fulfilled his end of the bargain. “He’ll also be taking a place on the board, starting today.”

  He gestured for me to take one of the open seats in the middle of the table, specifically ignoring the empty one at his side. Of course. Because he wouldn’t ever want me to have the idea that I was his right-hand man or that I was relevant to him at all. He’d given me this appointment because he’d known it was what I’d wanted, but I bet he had no intention of actually letting me contribute.

  All the more reason to follow through with my plans.

  Not wanting to drag out this meeting longer than necessary, I hurried to my seat, nodding at my brother Cole as I settled in. A few other board members got in a welcome and a handshake before my father moved the meeting along. “I see the first item on our agenda is approving the DRF sponsorship paperwork. There have been a few notable revisions since the last time we discussed it.”

  With a glance, an assistant rushed to my father with a set of documents before distributing copies around the table. Henry flipped through the papers, seeming to look for something specific. “Where is that clause regarding the use of management funds?”

  “Dad, how about I take this over since I’m the most familiar with this project?”

  An offer to assume control of the meeting could easily be taken by my father as an attempt to usurp his authority. Or he could view it as assertiveness, a quality he favored. All depending on his mood.

  Fortunately, today he seemed to appreciate passing it off. “Yes, Scott. Why don’t you go ahead and lead the discussion?”

  There was also a possibility he was setting me up for failure.

  I reminded myself that I couldn’t fail this. I’d already succeeded. There was just this one tiny part left, and if I fucked it up, it wouldn’t change anything else.

  But Brett deserved for this to go well, so I was still thinking positively.

  “Happy to do so.” I pulled the bottom file folder out, as if I were planning to dive into it. But instead of opening it, I pretended to change my mind. “Actually, before we get to that, there is another matter we need to finalize.” I opened the folder containing the copies of Brett’s CV and performance reviews and began passing them around.

  “Hold on,” my father scolded without even looking at the papers. “I know you’re new here, Scott, but we stick strictly to the agenda. Anything else you’d like to discuss can be brought up at the end of the meeting to put on a calendar for a future date.”

  “Yes, Dad, I do understand how board meetings work. This, however, pertains to the sponsorship, and speaking as the former head of PR, neglecting to take care of it first is highly irresponsible.”

  He frowned, but he scanned the top page of the packet I’d given him. “Brett? What’s this about?”

  “Naming my replacement. The VP of image and outreach is going to be in charge of overseeing any sponsorships SIC takes on. Without someone to hand it off to afterward, any deal you agree on will just sit. Besides, with as many PR crises as we’ve had lately,” and with those that were on the horizon, “it’s negligent not to get this taken care of right away.”

  I almost didn’t recognize Henry’s expression since I’d seen it so infrequently over the years—he was impressed. “Very wise. And you’re recommending Brett take your place?”

  “As you can see with what I’ve provided, his performance is commendable. He knows the job backward and forward, and most importantly, he’s committed to both the responsibility and to SIC. I don’t think there’s another person inside or outside the department who would better fill the role.” I swiveled my head and winked at the other board members. “Don’t let the last name fool you. He’s actually qualified for the position.”

  Chuckles rippled around the table, though all but Cole immediately got somber after seeing my father’s scowl. “This isn’t a place to play court jester, Scott. As for the business at hand, if the former VP recommends Brett Sebastian as his replacement, I’m keen to agree. All those in favor say aye.”

  The ayes that followed were unnecessary. SIC was owned privately, and my father didn’t have to go with the board’s advice if he didn’t wish to. But the vote did formalize the decision, and with the board behind the promotion, I was more confident my father wouldn’t later try to change his mind.

  Which meant victory achieved.

  It was hard to hide my smile. Hard to keep the bubble of excitement growing in my chest from exploding into a shout of hallelujah. The only thing that kept me from getting out of my chair and jumping in the air was knowing my next play was going to feel even better.

  “Now on to the next item of business,” I said, somehow managing to maintain some semblance of dignity. I moved to the other file and pulled out the single sheet of letterhead. Hesitating briefly, only so I could make sure I relished the moment, I slid
the paper toward my father. “With my replacement settled on, I quit.”

  “What?” The assistant standing near the wall, ready to act as soon as my father snapped his fingers, was the only one to speak. The rest of the room gaped, their eyes darting back and forth from my father to me.

  He managed to find his voice quickly. “What was that you said?”

  “I believe he said he quit, Dad.” Cole might have been enjoying this as much as I was. He reached out to grab my resignation letter since my father hadn’t bothered to look at it yet. “Yep. That’s what this says too.”

  Dad was furious. “What the hell is the meaning of this theatrical display, Scott?”

  I stood up. “It means I no longer work for you. Oh, and,” I dipped into my breast pocket, retrieved the ring nestled inside, and placed it on the table next to my resignation, “I’m not getting married either.”

  At least not to Kendra Montgomery.

  Whether or not I would be marrying another woman remained to be seen.

  The look on my father’s face was priceless. I’d never seen him so red. “This deal is off,” he said, holding up the DRF contract. “No way is it getting signed now.”

  I picked up my folders. “Oh, I forgot to say, the DRF isn’t interested in signing anymore. They’ve found another sponsor, one with less drama at its helm.” Slightly less. Regardless, it sounded good. “Hope that doesn’t screw up the agenda too much for all of you. I’ll be getting out of here so you can all get back on track.”

  “You walk out that door, Scott, and you will never be welcome in this boardroom again. Not ever. You walk out that door, and you’re not welcome back home, either. Your life as you know it is over.”

  My father’s shouts followed me as I crossed the room. I was fairly sure he lost his temper often enough in front of his top employees to make today’s outburst fairly routine, but it was still satisfying knowing I’d gotten him that worked up.

  Even more satisfying was walking out that door and knowing that the life that I wanted had just begun.