by Katie McCoy
I stared at him. What was he talking about? Buy the bar out from under Emerson?
Emerson looked pissed, but he kept his voice level.
“We’re not interested,” he told his father.
“You haven’t even taken a look at what I’m proposing,” Henry argued, but Emerson shot him a look.
“You haven’t even taken a look at the bar,” he responded. “You don’t know anything about Rascals. It’s unique. It’s not part of a chain or some faceless bar where no one knows anyone.”
“I know that you can do better than just one little bar,” his father told him. “You’re a Hayes, for God’s sakes. You shouldn’t be managing a bar. You should be building an empire of them.” A sneer appeared on Henry’s face. “Unless you’ve decided you want a mediocre life.”
“I’m not having this discussion with you,” Emerson said firmly, but his father ignored him.
“Where’s your ambition?” his father demanded.
“Just because my ambition doesn’t match yours, doesn’t mean I don’t have any,” Emerson said through gritted teeth. “My version of success is just different than yours.”
“That’s just an excuse,” Henry argued, his voice growing louder.
They had begun to attract attention from other tables, which Emerson seemed to notice. He got up from the table, throwing his napkin down.
“I thought that your relationship with Alex was a sign that you were finally willing to rejoin the family.” Henry stood up as well, the two of them nose to nose. “Because she understands what you have to do to succeed.”
“And I thought that maybe, just maybe, you could be proud of something I’ve achieved, instead of just tearing me down.” Emerson turned and stormed
out of the ballroom.
I got up to follow him, but Henry grabbed my arm.
“Convince him that this is for the best,” he told me. “You can bring him around.”
“This isn’t my place,” I tried to argue.
“You want what’s best for him, don’t you?” Henry didn’t even wait for my response before steamrolling on.
“We’re in this together, my girl. Convince Emerson to franchise the bar, and I’ll make sure I bring my future business to your firm. You help me, I help you.”
I was speechless. Emerson had been right. All of his supposed kindness and caring had just being laying the groundwork for some quid pro quo. I wanted nothing to do with it, but I wasn’t about to dump my drink on his head and make a scene like I wanted to.
Instead, I pulled my arm out of his grasp and summoned all my best fake manners. “I should go now,” I said with a grim smile. “Lovely to see you both again.”
And then I got the hell out of there.
21
Emerson
I shouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, I should have seen this coming a mile away. But still, my father always managed to throw me with how low he was willing to go to get what he wanted. I just hadn’t expected Alex to fall so quickly into his trap.
I wanted to punch something. Anger vibrated through me, making my hands shake.
“Emerson?” Alex’s voice pulled me out of my rage, but only briefly.
I turned to find her standing there, looking unbelievably beautiful in her gown. Things had been going so well. From her good news about the bar, to the way we had lost ourselves in each other, to the impromptu celebration at the bar, for a moment, everything had been perfect.
But then I learned the truth about exactly how deep Alex’s ambition went.
“Did you and my father work out a five-year plan for me and Rascals yet?” I asked, practically choking on the words. “You two make such a good team.”
Alex flinched. I felt bad about my tone, but it was justified. She had lied to me.
“I had no idea that’s what your father wanted,” she tried to tell me, but I wasn’t interested in her excuses.
“I warned you, didn’t I? I told you that all of his so-called favors came with a price. That he was going to expect something.” I ran my hand through my hair, anger filling every inch of my body. “My entire life, he’s always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Like I was a disappointment.”
“I didn’t know,” Alex said quietly. “You didn’t tell me.”
“You wanted me to give my father a chance,” I laughed bitterly. “Well, I did and look where it got us.”
“Your parents love you,” Alex argued, and I rolled my eyes.
“Bullshit,” I argued. “They see me as an extension of themselves. Nothing more.”
“You might not see it, but they want what’s best for you,” Alex told me. “You have no idea how lucky that makes you.”
“Lucky?” I scoffed, the wind picking up around us.
It was spring, but tonight it was cold. I could see goose pimples popping up on Alex’s bare arms. I wanted to offer her my jacket, but I was so mad that I just crossed my arms over my chest.
“My father left, Emerson,” Alex said, her voice quiet. “He woke up one morning, left for work, and never came back. I heard later that he started a new family—a new wife. A new daughter. So yeah, you are lucky to have parents that care. Mine never gave a damn about me, and I would kill to have a father that cared half as much as yours does.”
There was a tremble in her voice, and I could see that she was trying to keep it together, but I was so mad that I couldn’t focus on anything but my own pain. My own hurt.
“Is that what this was all about?” I demanded. “You didn’t get the kind of father you wanted so you decided to get what you could from mine?”
Alex reeled back.
“What are you saying?” she asked, her face white.
“How much of this was about me?” I asked, gesturing between the two of us. “And how much of it was about my family’s name? About what that could get you.”
“Stop it,” Alex whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You know I had no idea who you were when we first started seeing each other.”
My anger warred with my need to comfort her. To protect her. But what was I protecting her from? From myself? From the feelings of anger and humiliation and betrayal that I couldn’t control? My hurt was too great, and it overwhelmed any sense of sympathy I had for Alex. It made me cold. Mean.
“So you said,” I sneered. “But I’m starting to realize that you have no problem lying to me when it suits you and your career.”
I knew I was out of control and I should take a moment to breathe, to think about what I was saying. But I couldn’t. I was like a rock, rolling down a hill. The momentum was too much. I couldn’t stop. I could only crash and burn.
“You’re upset.” Alex reached out for me but I flinched away.
“Of course I’m upset! You’re supposed to be on my side. Mine. But all you can do is tell me how lucky I am, and how great my parents are. You weren’t there,” I yelled angrily, “all the times he would cut me down, pressure me to be better. Do more. My whole life, he’s been judging me. If I got an A, it should have been an A-plus. If I made track team, he’d want to know why I didn’t beat the school records. Even getting into Northwestern wasn’t good enough, not for a Harvard legacy. Nothing I ever do is good enough for him!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know!” Alex looked stricken, but I was too far gone to care.
“And now that I’ve finally built something of my own, he can’t wait to take it away from me,” I continued. “And you don’t stand up for me, or say a thing, because you want that Hayes name at your firm, to see what his influence can do for you!”
“No.” Alex shook her head. “Emerson, that’s not true!”
“So you told him where he could stick his franchise plan then?” I demanded. “After I just walked out, and he gave you the sales pitch, to get me back on-side again. You told him no way. Or did you play nice, and smile and nod, so he wouldn’t ruin your chances with the partners?”
Alex hesitated. Just a beat, but it told me eve
rything I needed to know.
“You’re just as bad as the rest of them,” I swore. “You’ll do anything to get ahead, even sell your soul to my father for a shot at that job.”
Tears were running down Alex’s face, but her expression changed.
“Sell myself . . .” she repeated, her voice turning icy. “Are you calling me a whore?”
There was silence. I’d spoken without thinking, in the heat of the moment, but now I knew I had fucked up. I needed to apologize. But before I could say anything, Alex turned and walked away.
22
Alex
I didn’t go home that night. I couldn’t. Instead, I grabbed a cab and called Kelsey. The last thing I wanted right now was to go back to my apartment and have to walk by Rascals. I couldn’t face the bar—or the memory of how unbelievably happy I had been only a few hours before, and how quickly it had all come tumbling down around me.
Kelsey opened her arms and her home to me, letting me stay on her couch while I cried myself to sleep. She even went back to my studio for me and got me clothes for the week so I wouldn’t have to risk seeing Emerson.
He didn’t call. All week, I waited and hoped for some sort of apology from him, some sort of acknowledgement that things had gone off the rails. For some hope that they could be fixed. But by Friday morning, I had come to accept that it was over.
I had taken a risk and gotten my heart broken in the process.
I had breakfast with Kelsey, and she dropped another bit of tough love on me.
“You can’t stay here much longer,” she told me, looking around her apartment, which was almost as small as mine. “I love you, but it’s way too crowded for the two of us. And you do have your own spot.”
“I know.” Tears welled up in my eyes again. It felt as if I had spent the past week crying nonstop. It was exhausting and embarrassing. I quickly swiped them away. “You’ve been very generous to let me stay this long.”
My best friend gave me a sympathetic look.
“You’ll get through this,” she promised.
I desperately wished that I could believe her.
“Maybe you should talk to him,” she suggested. It wasn’t the first time she had done so.
I shook my head. “He needs to apologize. You didn’t hear what he said.”
“You know how guys are. They say dumb stuff all the time.” Kelsey tried to make excuses, but I wasn’t interested in them.
“I told him that I loved him, and he pretty much called me a whore,” I reminded her. “That’s not just dumb stuff that guys say. That’s what you say to someone you don’t care about.”
The venom in his voice had surprised me just as much as what he had said. And the truth was that if Emerson had called, if he had apologized, I would have forgiven him. Because I still loved him. I hated that I did, but that was the truth.
But he hadn’t called. So it was time to start getting over him.
“This is the perfect thing for you right now,” Jenna told me as we headed to yoga.
I had moved back to my apartment, now taking a longer route around the opposite end of the block just to avoid going past Rascals, though I had a harder time ignoring the noise and laughter that floated up to my room every night. I was driving myself crazy, imagining that every masculine voice was Emerson’s and every feminine one was one of the many girls he was now sleeping with.
I wanted to spend the weekend holed up in my studio, in my pajamas, watching the scariest horror films I could find—anything to get my mind off of Emerson—but Jenna had insisted that I join her for a very special yoga class.
“I don’t know if I’m up for it,” I argued, but she had been unwilling to take no for an answer.
Which is why I was at something called “restorative yoga” at six p.m. on a Sunday night. I could see exactly why Jenna thought it would help. And maybe if I wasn’t such a fucking mess, it would have, but at the moment, all I could do was lie on my mat, the instructor’s voice droning on and on, while I thought about Emerson and what he was doing.
Were the guys doing another one of their poker nights tonight? Was he telling them what a terrible person I was? How I had sold him out to his father? I kept bouncing between feelings of utter heartbreak and feelings of betrayal.
Did Emerson really think so little of me that he believed I would side with his father over him? I just wished he had confided in me about his family history sooner. If he had been upfront with me about his father, then I would never have given Henry the benefit of the doubt. Maybe none of this would have happened. I would have known to be more cautious around the Hayeses, would have known not to trust the seemingly innocent offer of help.
But a little voice reminded me Emerson had warned me that his father didn’t do things without expecting something in return. I just didn’t take it seriously.
But it didn’t matter anymore. Emerson and I were over. I would just have to find a way to get over it. And I was pretty sure that restorative yoga wasn’t going to be the thing that did it.
My one saving grace was work. As always, when my personal life was a mess, I had been able to throw myself into my work, and that’s what I did now. It was the only thing that was keeping me sane, and luckily the firm had more than enough for me to do. I was working longer hours—spending as much time as I could at the office and avoiding my own apartment. There were too many sad memories there. If I could have slept at my desk, I would have.
But while work was providing me with a necessary distraction, I found that it wasn’t giving me the same satisfaction it always had. At the end of the day, I still had this empty feeling inside of me. And nothing, it seemed, was able to fill that.
Still, I kept trying. Kept working.
Two weeks after the gala, two weeks after my terrible fight with Emerson, I ran into Lucinda in the hallway. She was crying. Full on mascara running, ugly crying. It was jarring.
“Are you OK?” I asked her, offering her a tissue.
She shook her head, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her look before.
“I didn’t get it,” she managed, between sobs. “The associate position. I didn’t get it.”
My heart stopped. In the midst of my heartbreak, I had completely forgotten about the competition and that the partners had been close to making a decision.
“Where’s Bryce?” I asked.
She gestured towards the conference room. “He’s with them right now,” she said, sniffling. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet with you next.”
They did. After escorting Lucinda back to her desk, I found a note at my own, asking for me to wait outside the conference room. I felt sick as I sat there, bracing myself for the bad news. If they hadn’t chosen Lucinda, surely they would have picked Bryce. He had the background and pedigree. Yeah, he was kind of a dumb bro, but law was still a man’s world, and Bryce was a man’s man. The job was probably his.
But when he came out, his expression was inscrutable. He didn’t even look at me when he left, and I barely had a moment to process it before I was called in front of the partners. I took a seat at the end of the endlessly long conference table, facing the partners. Arthur was the only friendly face I saw, but his expression was just as impossible to read as Bryce’s had been.
I held my breath. And then Arthur smiled.
“Congratulations, Alexandra,” he told me. “We are thrilled to offer you the associate position here at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison.”
At first I thought I had heard him wrong. They chose me? Me, the state-school nobody, over those as well connected as Bryce and Lucinda?
Then I came back down to earth with a bump. They probably still thought I had connections that would be beneficial to them. And even though I knew it would cost me the job, there was no way I could continue without letting them know the truth.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said slowly.
I could see that my reaction was not the one that Arthur and the others were expecting. Arthur�
�s smile began to slip, replaced with a look of confusion.
“But before you go any further, you should know that Emerson Hayes and I are no longer together. So, if you offered me this job because you think I’ll be able to bring his family’s business to the firm, I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” I took a deep breath. “I understand if you want to rescind the offer.”
Arthur looked amused.
“That’s not why we offered you the job,” he told me. “Your connection to the Hayes family was promising, no one is denying that,” he said with a smile. “But you’ve been offered the job because you’re the best candidate.”
His words slowly sank in.
I had gotten the job. The thing I had been working for since I decided to become a lawyer. I had gotten exactly what I wanted.
I should be on top of the world. So why did I still feel so empty?
23
Alex
Arthur gave me the rest of the day off.
“Go celebrate,” he told me. “That’s an order. There will be plenty of work for you to do next week.”
I wanted to do exactly that, but I couldn’t escape the hollow feeling that seemed to have taken up residence inside of me. I should have been thrilled. Should have been jumping for joy, running through the streets of Chicago screaming, or at the very least I should have been feeling something, anything.
I just felt numb.
All I wanted to do was see Emerson. He was the first person I wanted to tell when Arthur’s words had finally, truly sunk in. I wanted to celebrate with him. But I couldn’t.
But I could call my mom. She picked up on the second ring.
“Is everything OK?” she asked, sounding worried.
Not that I blamed her—besides a call every few weeks, we mostly communicated through text. But this was the kind of news that I had to tell her directly.