by Megan Ryder
“What about love?”
Brigid froze and her gaze grew shuttered. “Love is secondary to security and position. But we’re not talking about love here, Grady, only sex.”
His shoulders slumped, the battle lost. He gazed out over her head, focusing on a distant point.
Finally, he said, “Is this what you really want?”
She shrugged. “I was comfortable continuing on as we have been, but now I see you’re right. We’ve fallen into a rut, comfortable with the situation but it’s really not working. It was fine while I was in law school and you were building your business. But now, we’re settling into our lives and maybe it’s time we find the right people for us, for our lives.”
Maybe he was glutton for punishment. Or maybe he liked the pain. But he had to ask. “Why not me?”
This time she paused, staring out over the city lights. “My choice of partner is as important as my work. It’s been made clear to me, tonight in fact, that I must be careful to choose a partner that supports my career and can enhance it. Maybe I’ll never find the right person who can handle my lifestyle. But I don’t think you’d be comfortable waiting around for me to stop working. And I don’t see my schedule freeing up any time soon. Do you really think you can be happy with that?”
He absorbed the words as if they were a physical blow, hitting him low and in the gut. He had thought maybe Brigid was different. She came from a middle-class family, worked hard to get ahead. He didn’t expect her to be like his mother, rejecting him for better opportunities and people. He wasn’t quite ready to give up without a fight, though.
“Are you happy?” He strode to the kitchen and pulled out two bottles of antacids. “Is your job worth getting an ulcer over? I’ve seen you over the past months get thinner and thinner, with more stomach pain, headaches, and less sleep. The job is killing you and I’m not even sure you like it.”
She took a step back, eyes flashing. “Of course I like my job. It’s been my life’s goal.”
“So? I wanted to be a professional baseball player. Plans change, Brigid. Sometimes we realize that the plan is not what makes us happy.”
“Happiness is overrated. Security is what matters. The law is secure.”
He slammed his hand into the wall. “Oh God, your father has brainwashed you. You can be just as successful in another field. And happiness is way more important than security. I know your father stressed the importance of a good job, independence. I get that. But I doubt he means that you should kill yourself over it.”
She stared at him. “How dare you presume to know me or my family? You know nothing about me or what I want.”
“I beg to disagree. I know that you don’t even like scotch but you think you have to drink it to be accepted by the partners, that you care more for what they think of you than what makes you happy, and property laws bores the shit out of you.”
“Bullshit.” She bit off the word through gritted teeth.
“You loved your internship at Legal Aid, helping people. Making a difference.” She stared at him, no response so he chose a different tack. “You always drink scotch at the firm events, you even profess to love it, but you don’t even have a bottle in your house.”
She folded her arms. “That’s because drinking alone is a sign of depression and alcoholism.”
He stepped into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. “But you have wine. Four bottles. But no scotch.”
“For guests. And that proves nothing.”
He slammed the cabinet shut. “Well, this is getting us nowhere fast. I should go.”
She held up her hand. “Wait. You brought dinner. At least stay for that.”
He eyes her shrewdly. “You’re hoping to convince me to engage in some stress relief sex. Well, maybe you should get a vibrator because this walking sex toy is out of batteries. Keep the food. I’m not hungry.”
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door before her voice stopped him.
“What about next week? The wedding? Caroline now thinks we’re dating and, trust me, she’s going to pull some matchmaking shit.”
Leave it to Brigid to worry more about what other people think than what was really important. Then again, maybe that was what was important to her and maybe he had dodged a bullet here.
He didn’t even turn around. “Tell her what you want. I don’t care.”
She looked down. “Well, I was going up with you.”
He whirled around. “You still want a ride? Fine. I’m going up tomorrow. I have to finish the cottage renovation before the wedding. What time should I pick you up?”
She bit her lower lip, looking down. “Um, I have to work tomorrow. Having a whole week off will really put me behind. I have to make up some of the time. I was thinking Sunday.”
He was shaking his head before she even finished. “Not going to work. I have to be there tomorrow. And you promised Saturday was fine. Another example of how work is more important than anything and anyone else. Can you get a ride with one of the other girls?”
It was her turn to shake her head. “Anna is coming from California and I have no idea about Delaney. Caroline and Matthew are headed over tomorrow too.”
“They can’t know I’m there. Remember, the renovation is a surprise.” He warned her.
She shot him a dark look. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know that. Look, I’ll drive myself. Can you pick me up at the ferry? I can’t take a car on the island. Sunday? I’ll take the noon ferry.”
He nodded, stiff and formal as if talking to a stranger. “Fine. Text me if you’re going to be late.”
She glared, clearly frustrated with his distance. “You make it sound as if you expect me to be late.”
He shrugged, giving up on the situation. “You’ll probably go into work in the morning and lose of track of time. Again. Text me.”
He opened the door but she laid a hand on his arm. “Are we okay, Grady?” she asked quietly.
Without turning so she wouldn’t see the heartbreak in his eyes, he said, “Yeah.”
When he closed the door, the click echoing in the hallway, he felt like he had closed the door on his future.
Chapter Four
Sunlight streamed through Brigid’s window Sunday morning. She had tossed and turned all night, much as she had all weekend, but she had finally fallen asleep somewhere around four. Even working all day Saturday, trying to exhaust herself, she had been distracted by her thoughts running through her head, so much so that she called Peterman Grady. Needless to say, he wasn’t too impressed to be compared to her supposed boyfriend. She gave up trying to correct him, especially when his wife called and persisted in Brigid giving her Grady’s contact information, not to mention Brigid’s sister. Louise seemed determined to have Grady do her new addition and would not be dissuaded. And what Louise Peterman wanted, Bill Peterman made sure she got.
Now to convince Grady to accept the commission, after she had expressly asked him not to take any business from her firm’s partners. Well, she could eat a little crow for that. Too bad he was pissed at her.
She had a choice to make, go into work for the morning and hope she made it out on time for the ferry, or skip work, just this once and get ready for the wedding. She rolled over and rubbed her eyes, gritty from too much reading and lack of sleep. There might have been a few tears thrown in when she was at her weakest, in the middle of the night. But she’d be damned if she knew why she was crying. Ending whatever it was that she and Grady had was the best idea, even if it created awkwardness next week and beyond.
Where did they go from here? Could they go back to friends without benefits? She didn’t remember a time when they really were friends. They had met when Caroline set them up on a double date in Brigid’s first year of law school. Caroline was missing her best friend, Delaney Winters and her fiancé Ethan Van Owen, who had been the power couple with Caroline and Matthew. Once Delaney’s father had been arrested for a Ponzi scheme and then died before the trial, Delaney had r
etreated from the group and society as she had known it, leaving the group and especially Caroline adrift. Then Anna Maria Costado, the fourth member of their group, left for California and a gig on a nighttime drama, leaving Brigid and Caroline behind. Caroline had glommed on to Brigid, making her Caroline’s new best friend and a candidate for double dating. The only missing link was a boyfriend for Brigid.
And Caroline found her one. Grady Coughlin, Matthew’s younger brother, the brothers had apparently had been estranged from for years. Interesting.
The date had been a disaster. Grady and Brigid couldn’t have been more different, him being the kind of guy who played sports, drank beer, and was a helluva lot more easygoing than Brigid ever was while Brigid spent hours studying and focused on her goal. After several drinks that hit Brigid a lot harder than she had expected, and her stress over midterms, they had fallen in lust, spending one night in sexual pleasure, more than Brigid had ever anticipated. She had been relaxed enough after that and easily passed her midterms. After that night, they tried to keep things on the down low, but stress relief sex became the name of their relationship. She had no idea if Caroline knew the truth behind their relationship but after Friday night, well, apparently everyone thought it was something else, something more.
She liked Grady. He had taken his father’s contracting business and turned it around from the red zone to black through hard work and long hours, a fact Brigid had found very attractive once she had gotten past her initial, and admittedly, snobbish stance. Grady was a great guy but once he got the business in the black, he was no longer interested in going further. He was happy where he was, working to live. He accused Brigid of being a workaholic with no end in sight, and maybe he was right.
But Brigid had a goal and a plan, and while Grady was great, they had different paths and outlooks on life. He was home, white picket fence, and weekends with kids. She was work, high-rise apartments, and weekends on the island. She had plans for her future and she didn’t want to settle for anything less. Her father would never allow her to settle for anything less and, for better or worse, he was the voice in her head, prodding her forward when her strength flagged or her determination wavered.
She groaned and rolled out of bed to take a shower. Before she crossed half the room, her cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she grabbed it.
“Hello, Dad. What’s up?”
“Good morning. Thought I’d check in early since I know you’ll probably be working today, even though it’s Sunday.”
The small note of censure reminded her of her college years when her father used to call to remind her to go to church. She had long ago given up on church, spending the time studying or working instead. Her father believed in working hard but he always made time for Sunday mass, even if he went to the office or worked at home the rest of the day. He never quite subscribed to Sunday as a day of rest for himself or anyone in the family.
“I’ll be leaving early for the island and Caroline’s wedding. I’ll be gone all week.”
“Can you afford to be gone that long? You know, you’re a new lawyer in the firm. You can’t be considered from promotions if you’re not available and working harder than everyone else. Your brother didn’t take time off from the hospital, not even for his wedding. If you want to get ahead, you have to work for it.”
A familiar tightening spread from her stomach to her shoulder and the rest of her body, leaving her rigid and wooden in place, next to the bed.
She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then ten again, willing the muscles to relax. “Dad, I know that. And believe me, I’ve already spent seventy hours at the office last week. Besides, Caroline is marrying one of the new partners, Matthew. So, I’m kind of required to be there, both as a friend and as a business partner.”
“Marrying the boss’s daughter? Not a very original way to get ahead. But it works. And at least you maintain a connection with them. It can help you as you work your way up the ladder.” He sniffed, the familiar bitterness tingeing his tone. Bitterness that he had never quite achieved the success he had always wanted and how he had always blamed other people and their different ways of getting ahead.
“Dad, Matthew was with Caroline before working there. He’s a good lawyer and earned it.”
As the familiar litany played out, she found herself relaxing and answering on autopilot. Lord knew they’d had this conversation many times; her father was not a fan of using personal connections to get ahead. But, then again, he was never very good at making friends in the workplace. Too hard-nosed and strict to be any kind of buddy with anyone at work and he never really welcomed any kind of friendship, encouraging his children to focus on working hard and not friends. That worked well for her older brother, who was borderline genius and got through medical school in record time, and her younger sister, who got all the charm and beauty in the family. Why did all of the talents skip her?
“Brigid, just remember. You have a plan. It’s a solid plan, designed to provide you with the security and independence you’ll need in this life. Don’t make any mistakes or bad judgments. Be mindful of every decision you make. For example, who are you bringing to the wedding? Who your partner is says a lot about you and your career decisions.”
The familiar lecture and constant reminder grated on her nerves but she gritted her teeth. “Yes, Dad. I have the plan posted and had a very encouraging talk last Friday with my boss and one of the other partners, a mentor of sorts. Both seemed positive on my chances of the promotion to junior partner.”
“Hmmmm.” He murmured, sounding displeased, but then again, he always sounded that way when he spoke with her. “That’s promising but until it’s in writing, don’t believe it. Now, about your date to the wedding. He should be the right sort of man. Look at your sister. She married an executive and her business exploded with new customers. She can’t keep up with the work. You need someone to complement your work. He doesn’t have to be a lawyer but a professional is required.”
Dating advice from her father? If that wasn’t creepy or uncomfortable, she didn’t know what else could be. Brigid wanted the family, the kids but how could she ever consider that while working eighty-hour weeks and competing with every breath for partnership? And the partners worked just as hard. If she married a professional like her, who would raise the children? A nanny whom they’d eventually call mom and be closer to than Brigid? She remembered her own time growing up. Her mother was constantly on the road with her father, or catering to his needs at home, volunteering for some organization or another, always trying to make him look better to the senior leaders. Meanwhile, her and her siblings were left home with Juanita, their nanny and housekeeper who basically raised them. Her brother was involved in so many special education classes for his advanced mind and her sister was off doing beauty pageants and with her friends, leaving Brigid at home, alone. She had felt so isolated and swore never to do that to a child. Now, with her path in front of her and the reality staring her in the face, she couldn’t imagine having kids. With Grady, she knew he would never allow his kids to be raised by anyone but himself, especially not after his childhood, but she sensed a future with him was no longer a real option, not if she wanted her goals at the firm.
Whoa, she placed a hand on her head and sunk down on the bed, letting her father drone on in her ear, lecturing her about husband choices. When had she considered Grady as the father of her children? Had she been more emotionally involved than she thought? He clearly was and she had pulled that rug out from under him so quickly and neatly. Maybe she also lost out on a great opportunity.
No, she had to stay the course. He’d be miserable with someone like her. He’d never tolerate her working eighty hours a week while he sat home with the kids. She was right. They’d be divorced and miserable within a few years. Better to not pull children or their friends into this.
A ding in her ear had her looking at the phone. A text message. From Grady. Her gut tightened again, almost afraid to look. Was
he still mad?
“Hey, Dad? I have to run. I’ll be late if I don’t get moving now.”
Timeliness was only next to godliness and hard work. The threat of being late was the one thing guaranteed to get her father off the phone immediately. They quickly ended the call and she opened the text message.
“I left some lamps for the cottage at my house. Can you bring them with you on the ferry?”
Nothing about their argument. It was like Friday night had never happened.
Should she be insulted that he didn’t seem to care or relieved that it wasn’t going to be a thing hanging over them for the week?
Quickly, she texted back, “No problem.”
Another beep and he replied, “Dennis can bring it to your office. Easier than you driving to midtown.”
Why did he assume she was working today? A small voice reminded her that she had worked the past three Sundays to get ready for this week away and she had told him she was working, which had pissed him off. At least he was being polite and considerate of her time.
“Fine. I’m leaving at ten.”
“He’ll be there at 9:30.”
Brigid sighed, then glanced at the time. Shit. She only had an hour to get ready. She might as well check in at the office anyway. She still had time to get an apology gift for Grady before her ferry.
*
Brigid stared at her desk, at the folders piled on there, loaded with sticky notes and a detailed list of everything that needed changing. Peterman must have reviewed everything and rushed it in, probably to ruin her vacation week. She picked up the top sheet.
Due Friday.
The words in big block lettering jumped out at her and slapped her in the face. How the hell was she supposed to get all of this done and back to the office by Friday? Oh wait, she could send electronic copies once she made the edits he specified. Still, she would be working almost the whole week.