The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

42. Parting Words

42

PARTING WORDS

Rafe

Over the next week, I move through London like a robot. I go to meetings with bankers and connect with lawyers in boardrooms overlooking Kensington. We work out terms for the acquisition.

I take the CEO of Bespoke out for curry, and over naan, Priyam says he’s glad that Rafe Rodman will acquire his company.

“I built this from the ground up into a multinational business and I’m ready to move on,” he says.

“What do you hope to do once the deal is final?” I ask, sipping my beer.

He smiles so wide it meets his dark eyes. “Spend time with my grandchildren.” It’s the simplest of answers and a lovely one. Then his expression turns serious. “But I want to leave Bespoke in good hands. You seem like you’ll take care of my people. Even my partners, like some of the athletes I’ve signed to sponsorship deals. Such as Zane Archer. I want to keep him on. I like positive representation for my brand.”

“As do I.”

“And I hope that you can continue to show me that you will take care of my employees.”

I lean closer, letting him know I’ve heard him in my heart and mind. “It’s my top priority.”

“Good. That’s good, Rafe. That matters to me and I want to be sure of it before I give the final signature.”

The message is clear—if I continue to demonstrate good stewardship as the deal heads into its final stages, he’ll be sure to sign off. But if he sniffs out something he doesn’t like, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the plug.

I respect his stance. “I’ll take good care of Bespoke,” I tell him. “And the people.”

I leave dinner with Priyam with renewed determination to fulfill my promise.

Who cares that I’m a shell or that my heart is hollow? I’m in London to work and, it turns out, to celebrate Christine’s success.

She’s had a brilliantly fruitful trip and just inked a deal with a new distributor, so the next night I take her out to celebrate.

We go to her favorite pub, a place called The Magpie, where a friendly blonde bartender pours me a scotch and my friend a martini. Taking our drinks, we grab a booth near the back. I lift my glass and clink hers as Miles Davis plays overhead. “Cheers,” I say.

“And to you. Everything seems to be ticking along for you to become an even bigger player in the fashion world.”

“It is. But I want to talk about you. I’m proud of you. This new distribution deal is incredible.”

A hopeful grin lights up her face. “It’s been quite a ride. I’m really excited about this.”

“You’ve worked hard for it.” In business school, we shared our dreams, bonded over how we wanted to find success, help our families, and make a difference.

She smiles softly at me then pats my hand. “And you work hard too. But the difference between us right now is I haven’t met Mister Right.”

“What makes you think Gunnar was so perfect?”

“I didn’t say he was perfect.” She flips her dark hair off her shoulder. “But he may have been perfect for you.” She takes a drink, then gives me a stern stare. “You’ve really been having a good trip with the way you miss him?”

I contemplate her question. Of course I miss Gunnar. I’ve been watching all his games. But I’ve been relentless here. I’ve been the me that I’m accustomed to. The person I felt slipping away the more time I spent with the cocky, charming baseball star.

“I feel like myself again. Like I can finalize the Bespoke deal. I’ve given it my all, and that’s what I’m meant to be doing.” But as I say it, I steal a glance at the TV, hunting for the sports scores.

When I turn back to her, she’s smirking. “You’ve watched every game Gunnar’s played. You’ve checked scores.” She points to the TV. “You can’t stop watching his games or thinking about him.”

I bristle. What does it matter that I follow his career? “The postseason is exciting to watch,” I insist.

She snort-laughs. “And you’re still mad about him.”

This woman. She’s too right, but I can’t waver now, not after Priyam’s shrewd parting words.

I stab the table with my finger. “If you want to know what I’m mad about, I’m pissed that the Dragons are losing in the league championship series.” And that is the absolute fucking truth. I hate that the Seattle Storm Chasers are beating Gunnar’s team.

She tosses her head back and laughs. “Look at you. Talking baseball. It’s adorable.”

“What? It’s a fascinating sport,” I say defensively.

“You’ve never cared for sports before. You love books and music and business and deals and clothes.”

She’s not wrong. But I have an open mind. I’ve come to love the game. “But baseball is intense, especially when Gunnar plays. I should take you to a game sometime when we’re back in San Francisco.”

“I would love to go. But my point is you can’t get him out of your mind or your heart.”

I wince, but I can’t do anything about my annoying feelings. “I’m just worried he’ll be devastated if they lose.”

“Listen to yourself. You should talk to him.”

The Bespoke deal won’t close until the end of the year. Priyam delivered a message. I need to keep my head in the game. “I can’t afford to lose my focus again.”

Her eyes laser in on me. “But can you afford this ?” She waves at my chest.

“This what?”

She points at my chest. “Being hollow.”

I am hollow. But I’m also a liar. I lied when I told Gunnar I came to London for business. I do have business here, but I left early to escape the temptation of him.

A lot of good that did.

“I don’t know what I can afford anymore,” I say with a sigh. I have to be honest with her and honest with myself.

Four days later, I give in fully to my obsession. I invite Christine to my hotel suite to play midnight poker and watch the Dragons game. We nosh on crisps and drink beer while I pace because his team is losing. I hate it. But he’ll hate it more.

When the final pitch is thrown and Holden strikes out, my heart plummets.

I have to say something. I have to do something, even if it’s to send one simple note.

Rafe: Are you doing okay? I’m thinking of you. You played great.

Many hours later, he responds.

Gunnar: Thanks for checking in. Not going to lie. I’m fucking sad. But there’s always next year. And this just gives us another chance to go all the way. Besides, I just made plans to take Jamie and Charlie and my mom on a trip soon, and I’m seeing them for Mom’s birthday, too, after the campaign kickoff. I already can’t wait to see them. It’ll give me something to focus on besides this sucky loss. How are you?

I stare at that question. How am I?

I am torn. I am pulled. And I miss you terribly.

Rafe: I’ve been better.

It’s true enough.

Over the next week, the lie I told by the river eats away at my conscience, gnawing at me as I go from meeting to meeting. I need to come clean.

A week later, I make plans to get on a plane to New York.

I promised I’d always be honest with him, and I haven’t been honest about this. I have to fix that.

And I have to fix it as soon as possible.