by Kally Ash
“In all, there will be about thirty study pods on each floor. Each of them will give the older kids the privacy they’re craving but also give them an escape so they can study and get their vocation.”
“And this?” Catherine Marie asked, pointing to the IT suite.
“It’s a classroom,” he replied. “With all the latest technology. Natasha’s idea was to get some of the local technical colleges to come and teach classes here, and maybe provide some guidance.”
The old nun looked at him with an infectious smile. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.” She glanced down at the plan. “And this? What’s this?”
“Here we have individual dormitories, each with their own bathrooms…”
They spoke together for a good hour, Catherine Marie’s exuberance and excitement for the project clear. She’d approved the plans on the spot, telling him that there was no way Natasha wouldn’t approve of them too. John’s disappointment at knowing she wouldn’t see them until that afternoon was only tempered by the fact that she would see them. She would know he’d listened to her, had tweaked and amended and tried to incorporate everything that she wanted for these kids.
They would break ground in about six weeks, pending on permits and labor, and John would return for the first day of construction. He needed to see this project all the way through. Before that though, there was the wedding to tackle.
As he walked down the front stairs of the orphanage, he dialed Natasha’s number, a sudden desire to hear her voice.
“Hello? Did she love the plans?”
“Natasha,” he said with a smile. “She loved them. The Mother Superior approved them. We’re breaking ground in six weeks.”
“John, that’s amazing!”
Damn it, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I wish you could’ve been there.”
“Me too.” There was a creak like she was leaning back in her chair. “I couldn’t get out of this meeting.”
“I wish I could see you,” he told her candidly. “I wish…” He wished he could do a whole lot more than see her. He wanted to hold her for a little while and enjoy the woman he’d grown to love. Leaving her—even if it was only for a few weeks—was going to be hard.
“When do you go back?” she asked softly, clearly reading his thoughts.
“Now, actually. I checked out this morning.”
Silence.
The kind that made his heart tighten in his chest.
“I’m… I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner? Are you coming to that?”
“Of course.” The dinner was going to be the night before the wedding.
“My parents are coming,” she whispered.
“I didn’t know they were close to Vee.”
“They are. They’ve known her since college.”
“She’ll like to have them there, then.” Jesus, even he knew this conversation was dancing around the glaringly obvious issue they were trying so hard to avoid. It was the goodbye—the one that would break the bubble they’d been living in for the past four weeks. He knew they’d see each other again at the rehearsal, but this was the end of their pseudo relationship. Casual sex, despite the fantastic chemistry, could not survive the distance.
“I’ll call you when I get back to San Diego.”
Natasha blinked the tears from her eyes and hung up the phone. She’d always prided herself on being decisive and for pursuing her goals with a relentless drive that bordered on compulsion, but she was ashamed to say that she would not be doing that with John.
And it hurt.
It fucking hurt so much that she’d started to cry on the phone with him. She looked around at her half-packed-up office, staring at the brown box overflowing with her framed degrees, the fern Layla had bought for her when she said her office was lifeless, and the office stapler, which she was calling her own now.
Her eyes swept the four walls she had fought so hard to secure and wondered why in the hell she’d given up so much. What did she have to show for it now?
A box and a plant.
It was hardly the culmination of her life’s work.
But this wasn’t her life’s work, was it?
After speaking to Vee at the hucks party, she’d come to realize that she had to make a decision. Right now, she was in limbo, and, yes, she had turned down both jobs, but she hadn’t taken that final leap yet, had she? She was still clinging to the safety net of being employed at King, but she couldn’t do that forever. She had to woman up and put her money where her mouth was.
The law wasn’t her passion anymore.
But it was terrifying to just cut off the only thing she’d ever known just because she didn’t know what came next.
The only thing she had going for her was she had enough savings to keep her afloat for a little while, despite sinking a lot of capital into the orphanage. She’d have to downsize her apartment and swap her car for something a little more economical, but she was okay with that.
Sitting up in her chair, she smoothed her hands over the surface of her desk and thought about what lay ahead of her.
Uncertainly. Check.
Less money. Check.
Happiness. Check.
She was ready for that.
Standing up, she put the strap of her Fendi purse over her shoulder, then picked up her box of things. As she walked out of her office for the last time, she stopped by Layla’s desk. The receptionist was smiling at her unsteadily, tears sitting in her eyes.
“I’m not dying,” she drawled, hoping to lighten the mood.
Layla wiped away one of the tears that broke free. “I know. I know. I’m just going to be so lost without you here whipping my butt into shape.”
Natasha smiled. “I can still send you emails,” she replied. Propping the box onto her desk, they embraced quickly before Natasha pulled away and cleared her throat.
“Give the next person who takes my office hell.”
Layla laughed. “I will. No coffee runs for them.”
She nodded, then slid the box back into her hands. “Take care of yourself, Layla.”
“You too, Miss Fraser.”
Natasha walked away before she got too emotional. Layla had been with her for years, so leaving her behind was hard. She didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone else. Her professional life mirrored her personal life too closely. At the bank of elevators, she was forced to stop, her white sneakers squeaking on the marble floor. She’d never been this casually dressed at work before and it felt weird, like wearing your pajamas to the grocery store.
“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”
Natasha spun around to find Mr. King standing in front of her, his expression somber. Like this was a funeral rather than her retiring from law.
Her dad would probably see it the same way.
She nodded. “I’m sure. But I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Then stay.”
She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m sorry. My heart… My heart is just not in it anymore.”
“What will you do?”
She shrugged and tried to shake off the panic that boiled up every time she thought about the fact that she was unemployed. “I don’t know.”
He studied her intently, although what he was hoping to find, she wasn’t sure. She hoped it wasn’t abject fear and regret for throwing away everything she’d worked toward.
“You’re welcome back here anytime you want. You know that, don’t you?”
She stifled a sob and then Mr. King’s arms were wrapped around her. As she let herself melt into his hold, she let herself go for just a moment, allowing those tears to fall just this once. Ten seconds later though, she was snapping together the locks on her emotions and pretending like it hadn’t even happened.
“I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me, Mr. King.”
“I know, Natasha. Take care of yourself.”
Behind her the elevator doors
opened and she shuffled inside. She had to get out of there before she gave in to the panic and fear. Jabbing at the button, she rode the elevator down to the lobby and walked out of the firm’s front doors for the last time.
Twenty-Five
Three weeks later...
John didn’t know why Natasha had been screening his calls, but she had. It had been three weeks and he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from her, and Beau barely had any updates either—not that he asked the guy outright.
He and Natasha hadn’t labeled their relationship, and maybe that was the reason for her going ghost on him. She didn’t owe him anything, so there was clearly no attachment. She’d cut the cords and he would have to deal with that.
Still, it hurt like a bitch.
He looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his tie and making sure it was straight. Happy with how he looked, he grabbed his suit jacket and hanger and walked through to the kitchen. Beside the kitchen counter, his bag was packed and ready to go.
He was going to do the seven-hour drive up to Big Sur today, hence the suit. He was planning on getting straight into the rehearsal dinner, which was slated for a 7 PM start. The few hours he’d done in the office this morning had been nothing more than clearing out his inbox and talking to his boss about the next project he was being assigned to.
Picking up his bag, he threw it over his shoulder and locked up.
Seven hours later, he pulled into the drive that led to Ventana. The place was still as beautiful as it was when he’d been there with Natasha. He couldn’t wait to see her, but he was prepared for the cold shoulder. Maybe whatever they had was over and he had to respect that. If that were true, he’d take the memories of their time together and lock it in his mental vault.
After checking into his room for the long weekend, he dumped his bag, made sure his suit wasn’t too wrinkled, then made his way to the function room where the rehearsal dinner was taking place.
He looked at his watch and cursed. He was a good half an hour later than he wanted to be. Hopefully he hadn’t missed too much. Pulling open the door, he stepped inside and just stopped.
The room was intimate, just one long table running down the room, glass walls framing the table on three sides. White linens were draped over what was no doubt a stunning piece of hardwood for the table, all the chairs filled except for one between Beau and one of the guys he’d met at the hucks.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he told Beau as he shuffled into his seat. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he shook his best friend’s hand and then sat down. He stared straight ahead at Natasha who had her red hair bound in loose waves around her face. She was talking to an older woman who looked like an older version of her. It must’ve been her mom, which meant the man sitting beside her was her father.
As if sensing him, she turned and smiled briefly before looking away.
“How was the drive up?”
“Terrible,” he told Beau. “There was an accident on the freeway, so of course everyone had to slow down and have a look.” He glanced around the room. “Have I missed much?”
“No, we only just sat down. We were having drinks at the bar first.”
John nodded and glanced down at the menu laid out on the plate in front of him. But he didn’t absorb any of it. His attention was on the stunning woman sitting on the opposite side of the table from him.
“Would you like a drink, sir?” someone asked him. He glanced over his shoulder at the waiter who was anticipating his next words. Did he need a drink? Fuck yeah, he did.
“Can I get a beer, please? Something international, thanks.”
“Robert Slater called me last week, Natasha.” Natasha’s father’s voice was deep—commanding. “He said you turned down his offer. Almost a month ago.”
Natasha became stock-still, her eyes darting to John’s face before she straightened her spine and lifted her chin.
“Yes, I did.”
Her old man grunted. “Just as well since you got the partnership at King.”
“Actually, I turned that one down too.”
Annnnnd the whole table went silent.
Her father stared at her for a moment, before throwing his head back and laughing. But Natasha wasn’t laughing.
His laughter dried up, his expression clouding over. “You’re serious?”
“I am. I turned down both opportunities.”
Her father’s face turned red and he slammed his fist down on the table, shaking the cutlery. “You fool!”
John shot out of his seat, drawing Natasha’s attention. Anger flowed like acid through his veins as he stared at the older man, and whether he was Natasha’s father or not, he didn’t care.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” he demanded, finally drawing the older man’s gaze. Pointing his finger at him, he said, “Don’t you ever speak to her like that.”
“Who the hell are you? She’s my daughter. I can speak to her in any way I want.” His voice was calm, but his words and his expression were violent. He was a man who was not used to being called out.
“She is the kindest, most compassionate woman I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. You have no idea what she’s been going through, wondering how to tell you she’s turned down both jobs. The choices she’s made have been the most difficult of her life.”
He stepped away from the table, glancing at Natasha briefly before striding to the bar. What the hell had he just done?
Twenty-Six
“How dare he!” Natasha’s father blustered, throwing down his napkin like he was going to go after John and give him a piece of his mind. Her mother reached out and patted him on the arm, the physical equivalent of her strong-arming him into submission. And she may as well have; her father settled back into his chair in a huff—the great beast quelled by his female.
“That man doesn’t know a thing about you or our family,” he muttered under his breath, taking a sip of his merlot even though he was a whiskey drinker. “He was way out of line, to assume that I know nothing about you, Natasha,” he continued.
She looked at her mother who was staying true to form and not engaging at all in the conversation. Her eyes were averted and she was no longer invested in standing up for Natasha—not that she ever was.
There were moments in someone’s life when they had to make a decision—one that could change the trajectory of their life. She’d seen it enough in movies, but she never thought that she’d end up in that position.
This was hers.
Right now.
Right here.
Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she sought out John and found him staring right back at her, giving her the courage she needed.
Twisting back toward the table, she cleared her throat. “I don’t regret it, you know. I don’t regret turning down the partnership.”
Her father peered at her with flat, lifeless eyes. He’d already mentally banished her. She’d made true on her black sheep moniker. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were.”
“Why?” she snapped. “Why do you think that?”
His eyes narrowed. She’d never spoken back to him like this before. Her father was the steel rod of their family—unyielding, unerring and completely unmalleable. “I’m going to ignore this outburst because you’re clearly under a lot of stress.”
Actually, she’d never felt so free.
“You can ask King for the promotion. Tell him you changed your mind, that you weren’t thinking straight. You’ve made a major faux pas but it’s not something that can’t be undone.”
He patted her hand, dismissing her.
“I’m not going to be asking for the promotion, Father.”
“Yes, you are. You’re going to ask for it back and then work your ass off to prove that you’re the right person for the job.”
“Father—”
“No!” he hissed. His free hand clenched into a tight fist and she knew the only reason he was so quiet was because of the company they were keeping
. Having this discussion in the middle of the rehearsal dinner was not ideal, but when shit happened, you had to pick up the shovel and clear it away—not sweep it under the rug.
“Father,” she tried again. She would not be cowed by him. All her life she’d given in to his moods. All her life she’d watched her mother yield to him and his need for perfection. All her life, she’d seen her brother meet all his expectations while hers fell by the wayside.
“I’m not asking for the promotion back. I quit the firm. I’ve quit law.”
Her father stiffened, the sound of her words like a blasphemy in his presence. Slowly, he began to shake his head. “No. You can ask for it back. King will take you back and if he won’t, I'll call Robert Slater and tell him to give you a job. It’ll only be entry level, but it’ll be no less than you deserve.”
“I packed up my office. My resignation was tendered, and although I gave my full two weeks, Mr. King said he’d waive the requirement in deference to my loyalty to his firm.”
“Soft,” he grumbled, pinning her in place with an arctic stare. “Weak. Just like you.”
“Knowing that law isn’t my passion anymore isn’t a weakness,” she countered, noticing for the first time that her mother was listening intently. “I haven’t been happy for a very long time, Father.”
“You don’t need to be happy. You need to be employed and excelling in your chosen career path.”
She slumped back into her chair, wondering why in the hell she’d been killing herself to gain his respect and pride. No matter what she did, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t listen. He was stuck in a record of his own making, the sins of his past playing on repeat.
It would not be her record though.
“You talk to me about legacy and tradition. Well, how about the legacy you’re leaving behind?” She posed the question to him without thinking she’d get a reply. Her father was too hard-headed and egotistical for that, but she was stunned when he opened his mouth and rebutted.