Chapter 35
brIGGS
Isat at the conference table with four of our junior associates.
It was easier to work in the conference room where we could spread out.
They each had a stack of files that used to live exclusively on my desk.
I’d been at this for three hours now, walking them through cases, explaining my process, making sure they understood not just what needed to be done but why it needed to be done that way.
“So the Sullivan contract,” I said, sliding the file across to Jennifer, one of our sharpest associates. “The renewal terms need to be negotiated by the end of next month. I’ve made notes in the margins about their pain points from last year. Start there.”
She nodded, flipping through the pages. “Got it. What’s our ceiling on concessions?”
“No more than five percent on the licensing fees. They’ll push for ten but hold firm. If they threaten to walk, call me. Don’t cave.”
“Understood.”
I moved on to the next file, then the next.
Contract reviews. Trademark disputes. A licensing agreement that needed drafting.
Standard stuff, nothing that required my specific expertise, but things I’d been holding on to anyway because that’s what I did.
I held on to everything. I was Type A to the extreme.
I had convinced myself I was the only one that could handle any of this stuff.
I realized now that had been arrogant of me. I wasn’t God’s gift to law. There were hundreds of us that could do this job. I wasn’t that special. And seeing all the work was a huge wakeup.
It was exhausting just cataloguing it all.
By the time I dismissed them, my head was pounding.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, trying to process how much work I’d been shouldering.
No wonder I had no life. This explained why every day had bled into the next in an endless cycle of contracts and depositions and negotiations.
I’d built a prison for myself and called it responsibility.
My phone buzzed. A text from Mandy.
Mandy: New phone, who dis?
I smiled despite my headache. She had gotten the phone a couple days ago, but we still had yet to catch up. I decided I would have to wait to hear her voice until I was standing directly in front of her.
Me: Your sexy husband. How’s the new phone treating you?
Mandy: Better than the old one. No frosting residue. I’m calling that a win.
Me: Easy to please.
Mandy: Miss you.
Me: Miss you too. Working on something. I’ll call you tonight.
Mandy: Promise?
Me: Promise.
I set the phone down and pulled up my calendar, really looking at it for the first time in a few days. It was a disaster. Meetings stacked on meetings, depositions, court dates, conference calls. I’d scheduled myself into oblivion.
But now, with half my workload distributed to the associates, I saw gaps. A day here, two days there. If I moved a few things around, asked my brothers to cover some of the less critical meetings, I could carve out a solid four or five days.
Enough time to fly to LA and hold my wife.
I sent a quick text to the group chat with my brothers and invited them to one of the most exclusive steakhouses in the city. I left it up to them if they wanted to bring their significant others. I doubted Adrian would come, which was fine. I really just needed to talk to Dash and Sebastian.
I spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up the delegation process, making sure everyone knew what they were responsible for.
It felt strange, letting go of so much control.
But it also felt like freedom. When Dad died, I had just been coming into my own as a lawyer.
And then he was gone and it felt like we had all been thrown into the deep end.
I didn’t know how to do what Adrian did.
I wasn’t a model like Sebastian. And I didn’t have the creative genius like Dash did.
My contribution was the law. And I jumped in with both feet.
I took away responsibilities from others in the legal department because I convinced myself I could do it better.
I was so determined to be perfect that I forgot to be human.
By the time seven o’clock rolled around, I was ready for a drink and some time with my brothers.
The steakhouse was one of those old-school Manhattan places with dark wood paneling and mood lighting. It was very exclusive. The Blackwell family had a standing reservation. If we were entertaining investors or buyers, we always took them to the steakhouse.
Sebastian was already at the table when I arrived. Dash showed up a few minutes later, and Adrian walked in just as we were ordering drinks.
“Elizabeth kicked you out?” Sebastian asked as Adrian slid into the booth.
“She strongly suggested I spend an evening with my brothers,” Adrian corrected. “Apparently I’ve been ‘hovering’ and making her nervous.”
“You have been hovering,” Dash said. “I stopped by last week and you were literally standing over her while she changed Buck’s diaper, offering commentary.”
“I was being helpful.”
“You were being annoying,” Sebastian said, but he was grinning.
Adrian pulled out his phone. “Speaking of Bucky.”
“Oh God, here we go,” Dash muttered.
“I have to show you these new pictures. Look at this one. He’s smiling. That’s a real smile, not gas.”
He held up his phone, showing us a picture of Bucky’s face scrunched up in what could generously be called a smile. The kid looked more confused than happy.
“That’s definitely gas,” I said.
“It’s a smile,” Adrian insisted.
Sebastian leaned over to look. “I don’t know, man. That looks like gas to me too.”
“You’re all terrible uncles.” But Adrian was still smiling as he scrolled through more photos. “Look at this one. He grabbed Elizabeth’s finger. Look at how strong his grip is.”
Sebastian’s expression softened immediately. “That’s actually really cute.”
“Right?” Adrian looked genuinely proud. “The pediatrician said he’s in the ninetieth percentile for his size. He’s going to be a big boy.”
“Of course he’s above average,” Dash said. “He’s a Blackwell.”
We spent the next ten minutes looking at baby photos while Adrian narrated every single one. I had to admit, even though I gave him shit about it, there was something nice about seeing him this happy. This settled. This content with his life.
I wanted that. With Mandy.
Our drinks arrived, and we ordered food. The conversation drifted to work and to the retail expansion plans and Sebastian’s upcoming wedding.
“I cannot believe I’ll be married by this time next year,” Sebastian said.
“Nervous?” I asked.
“Not about marrying her. Just about everything else. The ceremony, the reception, making sure it’s perfect for her.” He looked at me. “Which reminds me, thank you for convincing Mandy to take it on. Bernadette’s been so much more relaxed since we met with her.”
“Mandy’s good at what she does,” I said.
“She is.” Sebastian studied me for a moment. “How are things going with you two?”
“Good. Complicated, but good.”
“Complicated how?” Dash asked.
I took a drink, considering how much to say. “The distance is harder than I expected. We keep trying to talk, but our schedules never line up. Time zones suck. And I miss her. More than I probably should after only a few weeks.”
“You love her,” Sebastian said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. I do.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Sebastian asked.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” I told Adrian. “About the LA office. About being out there to coordinate the expansion.”
Adrian set down his drink. “And?”
“And I think I want to do it. I’ve spent the last few days delegating my workload, clearing my schedule. I’m trying to carve out some time to go visit her first, make sure we’re on the same page. But if she’s open to it? Yeah. I want to move to LA.”
“Holy shit,” Dash said. “You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Briggs Blackwell, the most New York person I know, is moving to California.” Dash shook his head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted. “But here we are.”
“We’ll cover whatever you need,” Adrian said. “You focus on getting out there and talking to her.”
“Same,” Sebastian added. “I can take on some of your client meetings if you need me to.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Look at you,” Dash said, grinning. “Having a heart. Being in love. It’s almost like you’re a real person now.”
“Fuck off.”
“No, seriously. I’m proud of you. You’ve been wound so tight for so long, I was starting to worry you’d forgotten how to be human.” He raised his glass. “To Briggs. May he finally learn to relax and be happy.”
“To Briggs,” Sebastian and Adrian echoed.
I clinked glasses with them. This was good. This was right.
“So when are you going?” Dash asked.
“Hopefully next week. I’m still working out the details, but I think I can get away for four or five days.”
“Make it a week,” Adrian said. “You’ve earned it. And honestly, you need it. You’ve been carrying too much for too long.”
“A week,” I repeated, testing the words. When was the last time I’d taken a full week off? I couldn’t remember.
“A week,” Adrian confirmed. “Go be with your wife. Figure out your future. We’ve got things covered here.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
Our food arrived, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics.
Sebastian told us about a disastrous photo shoot where the lighting had been all wrong and they had to reshoot everything.
Dash complained about a vendor who kept missing deadlines.
Adrian showed us more baby photos, because apparently there were hundreds.
The kid was a month old and the pictures of him could fill three clouds.
It was nice. The kind of evening I’d been missing without realizing it.
“I wanted to talk to you guys about Mom,” I said, setting down my knife. “Has anyone else noticed how happy she’s been looking lately?”
“She’s definitely better,” Adrian agreed. “I think the lunch program has been good for her. Gives her purpose.”
“She’s been talking about expanding it citywide,” Sebastian added. “But I know funding is tight. She mentioned she’s been applying for grants, but that process takes forever.”
I nodded, an idea forming. “What if we just wrote her a check?”
Dash looked up from his steak. “How much are we talking?”
“Whatever she needs to expand the program. Hell, whatever she needs to take it statewide if that’s what she wants.
” I leaned forward. “She’s been talking about this for months.
We have the money. Why make her jump through hoops begging for grants when we could just fund it ourselves?
She won’t write the check because she needs to feel like she’s working for it.
But we can do it under the company name.
The charity looks good. And it’s a tax write-off. ”
“I’m in,” Adrian said immediately. “Elizabeth and I were actually talking about this the other day.”
“Same,” Sebastian said. “Bernadette mentioned it too. Mom’s passionate about this. We should support it.”
“So we’re all agreed?” I looked around the table. “We could commit to a monthly donation.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Sebastian said.
“Unanimous then.” Adrian pulled out his phone. “I’ll have accounting draw up the paperwork. We can present it to her at Sunday dinner next week.”
“She’s going to cry,” Sebastian said.
“Definitely going to cry,” I agreed. “But good tears.”
“The best kind,” Adrian said. “And this is going to win me serious points with Elizabeth.”
I felt good about this. Really good. Mom had spent so much of her life taking care of us, supporting Dad’s dreams, putting everyone else first. It was time we did something to show her we saw her. We saw the efforts she was making.”
“You know what Dad would say about this,” Sebastian said quietly.
We all knew. Dad had always believed in giving back, in using what we had to help others. He’d built Blackwell Couture into an empire, but he’d never forgotten where he came from. Never stopped caring about people who were less fortunate than us.
By the time we left the restaurant, I felt good. I had a plan. I had support. And most importantly, I had a reason to be excited about the future instead of just grinding through each day.