Chapter 29
Alittle over a week after Brody announced our breakup on social media, I’m at Corina’s new apartment for her housewarming party.
The space is quintessentially her: filled with sunlight streaming through oversized windows, a tiny kitchen dotted with hanging plants, and mismatched furniture that somehow looks intentional.
I bring a bottle of the smoky red wine she loves and a platter of grocery store veggies and hummus.
It’s a slight effort I know Corina will still fully appreciate.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to socialize again, especially knowing two people I’d most like to see won’t be here. But when Corina greets me with a hug and our friends, collected from years of spin classes and random outings, fill the space with laughter, it feels as if I might be okay.
Then a man I don’t expect to see enters the apartment—broad-shouldered and towering, with a frame that makes the doorway seem narrow, but his photography sets feel like a separate universe. Marco.
His rich mahogany skin gleams under the soft light as he weaves through the living room with surprising lightness, careful not to crush anything in his path.
Yet he still somehow crushed Corina’s heart, making his presence here even more confusing.
“Marco?” I lead him to a corner of the room, hoping Corina hasn’t already seen him. It’s not a massive apartment, but it’s crowded enough to make that a possibility. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see this for myself to believe it’s really over.
” His eyes dart around the apartment like oversized pinballs until they land on Corina, emerging from the kitchen.
Her notably ringless hand is touching a man’s arm, while she laughs at something he said.
It’s innocent (especially since he’s a BrandMe colleague Corina is far from romantically interested in), but the effect is entirely different on Marco, who twists his own wedding band absentmindedly.
“It’s nothing, Marco. This is why you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know. It’s just?—”
He doesn’t finish his thought because Corina spots him, her laughter trailing off as their gazes lock across the room. If I didn’t know their marriage was floundering, I might have mistaken it for a meet-cute.
Corina says something to the man, then cuts across the room to us. “What are you doing here, Marco?”
I’ve already asked him, but he replies differently this time. “Proving once and for all that you did, in fact, take the waffle maker.”
“Marco, you’re the one who uses it. What would I do with a waffle maker?”
“I don’t know! Learn to make waffles?”
She waves him off. “Not interested. The waffle maker isn’t here. If it were though, I’d remind you it’s as much mine as it is yours.”
Marco bites his tongue, then caves. “Fine, keep it.”
“I told you I don’t have it, but Abigail just witnessed you surrendering it to me.”
Corina may have won the waffle maker, but her face isn’t that of a winner. She’s challenging Marco, daring him to contradict her or say something else to set her off.
He doesn’t. “Enjoy the waffles you’ll never make.”
“I will.”
There’s a long pause as they stare at each other. Then Marco’s attention falls as if it hurts too much to hold on any longer. “I shouldn’t have come.”
He moves to leave, but Corina surprises us both with a loud “Wait!”
He turns back, eyebrows raised.
“There is one benefit to you being here,” she says, clearing her throat as hope blooms across Marco’s face. “Abigail is suing BrandMe. As someone who works there, I’m not allowed to talk with her about it, let alone know about it. So I can’t exactly ask her anything related, but…”
Marco rolls his eyes, immediately catching her meaning. “How nice to have a purpose in your life after all.” He looks at me. “How’s the case against BrandMe going?”
“Good, I guess. My lawyer thinks it’s only a matter of time before they settle, but Carl is being rather obnoxious about everything.”
“Sounds like Carl,” Corina says. “If I had heard you say anything about Carl, which I didn’t.”
“Did they question Brody?” Marco asks, the question surprising Corina but not me.
I shrug. “My lawyer wants to ask Brody to be a character witness, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The numbers could speak for themselves.
“What?” Corina’s eyes widen. “Why not? He could confirm he wanted you and that Travis’s ideas were crap.” Then she remembers we’re not supposed to be talking about this. She elbows Marco, shooting him a meaningful look.
“Why is it not a good idea?” he paraphrases.
“I’ve put Brody through enough. He doesn’t owe me anything.” Neither does Nate. As much as I want Brody’s account back—and for the Bannam brothers to be in my life—dragging him into this mess isn’t the way to do it.
Corina frowns, but she gets it now that she knows the full story. “Ask her if she needs me to help with anything. Like, on the down-low. Are there files I can grab? Anything she needs me to look into?”
“Is that a good idea?” Marco asks her. “What if you get caught?”
“It’s Abigail,” Corina says, as if that explains everything. It perfectly sums up why this wondrous woman is my best friend.
Marco huffs. “Can Corina do anything to help? Can I?”
I shake my head. “The pieces are going to fall as they may at this point. My lawyer is good. She says we have what we need, so I’m inclined to believe her.”
The lawyer Nate helped me get.
Marco nods, then turns to Corina. “Is there anything else I should ask Abigail?”
“Ask her about what? I have no idea what you two have been talking about.”
“Great. Well, I’d better get going,” Marco says. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Enjoy the waffle maker, Cor.”
We wave goodbye and silently watch him leave the party.
“I didn’t realize Marco was so into waffles,” I say once he’s left.
“Yeah, he used to make them for us every Saturday morning. Different topping options, but always waffles. They were so good.”
“If he’s the one who made them, why doesn’t he know where the maker is?”
“He does.”
“Clearly not. He thinks you have it.”
“I do.”
“What? You just told him you don’t! And you don’t know how to make waffles!”
“What was I supposed to do? Leave it with him so he can make some other woman waffles? No way. Those are my waffles, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of some other woman or women having them. So, I took it.”
I don’t know what to say, but Corina beats me to it.
“God, I sound crazy. I stole a waffle maker so my soon-to-be-ex-husband can’t make a specific breakfast food for someone else. I don’t even know how to make waffles! What the hell am I going to do with the thing other than let it take up space in my cabinets?”
I wrap her in a hug. “We can learn to make waffles together.”
“Maybe someday,” she says, hugging me back and squeezing tightly. “Right now, I can’t imagine ever wanting to.”
It’s a sentiment I understand perfectly, yet I wish neither of us did.
A few weeks later, my BrandMe case resolves itself. The initial weeks had been peppered with meetings between Eleanore (my lawyer), BrandMe’s lawyers, Carl, and me.
The first few were the most difficult, with BrandMe’s lawyers poking and prodding at my professional past that’s so deeply intertwined with my personal one.
No one fired her; she quit. We had a perfectly reasonable job lined up for her here, but she felt it was beneath her.
If she was so distraught about being ‘pushed out,’ would she have gone to Fiji with her boyfriend?
Are you claiming she didn’t know about the HR policy?
If she was so great at managing Mr. Bannam’s account, why has he ceased working with her? If it’s not personal, their breakup wouldn’t have been an issue.
With each insult, I bit my tongue and let Eleanore defend me in all the ways I couldn’t. Every time I opened my mouth to reply, she’d place a hand on my arm and jump in with more composure than I was in any position to muster.
By the point of departure, my client had already been promoted well beyond the offered job and had nearly completed the trial period outlined for her promotion by her boss, Mr. Carl Sanders.
The client in question, Mr. Brody Bannam, specifically requested Abigail’s expertise when securing BrandMe’s services…
My client did not embark on a romantic getaway; she went to Fiji as part of a pre-planned work trip on her own dime to support the only client she had left. While there, she continued…
No one is claiming the policy isn’t documented in an outdated and regularly defied company HR handbook.
What we are contesting is the reality at hand.
No one else at BrandMe has been held to the same standards, let alone faced punitive action for not following these policies.
Take Mr. Carl Sanders, for example. He embarked on an affair with a client, a Ms.—
Who currently manages Mr. Bannam’s account isn’t in question.
But I’d point out there isn’t a person in this room who would want to work as closely with a former partner as running a brand requires, especially as a team of one.
So can we fault my client or Mr. Bannam for making the best choice for them given the new circumstances?
Those meetings were trying. First it seemed like the case was going to end up in court, then it wasn’t going anywhere. Today, it feels like something has shifted.
Eleanore and I sit in BrandMe’s largest conference room.
Across from us are the company’s lawyers, who also speak on behalf of a notably absent Carl.
They say they’ve spoken to some witnesses, including Brody.
My heart races as the lawyers summarize the conversation, but it’s all a blur in the background as my mind keeps replaying the same part.
Mr. Bannam confirmed your client’s story. Said he would hire her again in a heartbeat. That anyone would, pardon the language, be stupid not to.