26. Margeaux
26
MARGEAUX
I’m pretty sure when Keith Urban wrote “Tonight I Wanna Cry” he was thinking about an actual breakup. Not being suspended from your job.
Oh, wait, sorry, administrative leave .
Either way, the pity party the Aussie had in mind was not me sitting on my couch in the rattiest sweats I own, half-eaten pint of Ben & Jerry’s in hand, playing his song on repeat, lamenting the consequences of my own actions.
Doesn’t stop me from hitting repeat again though.
My anger has mellowed, soothed by ice cream and frozen cherry chunks, but hasn’t dissipated completely. More than anything, I’m pissed at myself. For letting myself get here. For risking it all.
All of it.
Four years of undergrad, my executive MBA, my JD. Years with Sulonen. Time abroad. Nights. Weekends. Overtime. Hours and hours of hard work. Sleepless nights thinking about how to solve the issue at hand. All flushed down the drain.
Over a man.
This is not who I am. Not who I ever set out to be. How I got so off course…well, doesn’t matter now, because here I am.
My entire career hanging on by a fraying thread.
My phone rattles against the glass top of my coffee table, the grating sound cutting over Keith’s soothing laments. Instinctively I reach over to ignore the call and make the harsh, jarring noise stop, but then I see the name flashing on my screen.
Dexter Wynn.
Sitting up, I straighten myself up enough so that I don’t sound like Pity-Party Barbie when I answer. Responding to his text with an actual phone call and more than just a thumbs-up was on my to-do list. Just not today’s. I figured I’d do that once I’d worked through some of these feelings. And this pint of Cherry Garcia.
Calling him was Monday Margeaux’s item.
Apparently it’s a now Margeaux item.
“Dexter,” I answer, faking all the confidence in the world. “Bold of you to assume that I don’t have plans on a Friday night.”
“If I know my star, you’re still in the office, arming yourself to the teeth with some knowledge to continue to kick ass and take names,” Dexter’s voice booms through the phone. I smile, the image filling my mind of the impeccably dressed lawyer easing back in his chair.
If you took Terry Crews and gave him a deep Southern drawl, tempered by thirty-plus years in LA, and then made him a sharpshooting West Coast lawyer, you'd have Dexter Wynn.
My star…
Le sigh…if only I was still his star. I bet anything he wouldn’t think that if he knew about today. About what I’d been doing these last couple of months .
Oh shit.
Does he know?
My pulse skitters as the realization sinks in. I don’t know exactly what he does and doesn’t know. Percy could have told him anything.
Time for a fishing expedition.
“I’m at home, actually.”
“Well, look at that. Maybe someone is learning something about work-life balance.”
Ha! If you only knew, Dexter…
“I got your text,” I tell him, ignoring the unspoken invitation to expound. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. “I figured I’d call you first thing Monday.”
“No worries. I had a free moment, so I figured I’d expedite things a little bit. Percy called me and filled me in on some of the happenings out there.”
“Did he now…”
Just what did he tell you?
“He did…” Dexter chuckles. “Can’t say I blame the man—there are days that retiring does sound nice. Although Juliana isn’t like Betty. Pretty sure she’d murder me for being underfoot after about a week.”
“You think she’d give you a whole week?”
“Fair point, fair point,” he says, still laughing.
I shift on the couch, relaxing a little, enjoying the camaraderie of talking with a man who I greatly respect. My time working for Dexter was nothing short of amazing. I learned so much from him. Not only in the field of intellectual property law, but life in general. Both he and Juliana went out of their way to make me feel like family since they knew I didn’t have any out in California, and leaving them was harder than I had anticipated.
“Well, Margeaux, I won’t beat about the bush here,” Dexter continues. “I know that moving back South to be closer to Papa Duck and the family was a priority for you after graduation. And I respect that. Family’s important. That’s why I was more than happy to get you set up with Percy and at Hayes.”
“And I greatly appreciate your recommending me,” I tell him.
“Always, Margeaux. Always. Just as I want you to know that there’s always a job for you here.”
Errr…what?!
I blink…one, twice, three times, swallowing hard. Dexter is offering me a job?
“I…I’m sorry?” I choke out.
“I’m not saying I know anything, because I don’t. Truly. I’m just an opportunistic joker who sees a shot and is taking it. Losing you was tough, Margeaux. Made tolerable by knowing that you were going to work with someone who I know and trust. But now that he’s out of the game, I’m going to do what it takes to get you back.”
I’m going to do what it takes to get you back…
Holy shit. Of all the things I didn’t see coming.
It takes me a minute to process what he’s saying. I’m still not sure I’ve fully wrapped my head around it, but I know I have to say something.
“And what exactly would I tell Hayes? I just started.”
“You accepted the job thinking you’d be working for a man who’s now retiring, which changes the terms of your contract. The corporate world isn’t for you,” he suggests. “We can find a way to spin it. Are you saying you’re in?”
My mouth dries up instantly, my tongue as rough as sandpaper as I attempt to answer him. If I thought I was confused about things before, I was wrong. Now I really feel like I’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole. Instead of ending up in Wonderland though, I’ve ended up in some weird world where nothing makes sense. Then again, Alice thought that about Wonderland.
“Dexter, I’m exceptionally flattered, and you’ve given me a lot to think about,” I start.
“You can name your price, Margeaux.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” I repeat. “But, I do have to think on it. I’m not unhappy at Hayes.”
In fact, I’m in love with a Hayes…
“Spoken like a true lawyer.”
“I had a great mentor.”
“I’ll let you get on with your Friday. But give me a call next week and we can discuss this in more depth.”
I agree to talking more later, still in shock over the offer. Grabbing my ice cream, I shove a large spoonful in my mouth—brain freeze be damned. Right about now, giving my thoughts frostbite might actually help to slow them down.
Gone is all the wallow and shame from before. In its place is…confusion. More than anything, I can’t help but ask myself one thing over and over again.
Did the universe just hand me the answer to this mess?
A knock on my door startles me, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance down at my phone, my lock screen surprisingly empty. Meaning it’s Alex or Marisela trying to get me to join them at Pour Decisions. No doubt they’ve heard by now. Everyone else seems to have. The group chats I’ve been added to—yes, plural. One with Dolly, Alice, Emily, and Rose, and then another with Willa and Bronwyn—have been blowing up all afternoon. Plus messages from Brenna.
For something that was supposed to remain a confidential HR matter, it sure seems to get around town quick.
The only person I haven’t heard from is Gus, something I’m sure is by design. My lawyer brain tells me that my exact advice to a client would be to not contact the other involved in the case. Especially when accused of an inappropriate relationship.
I can’t help but wish this was one of the rules he’d choose to break, however.
Padding over to the door, I open it, my excuse of “not feeling well, maybe another night” locked and loaded. Until I see who’s waiting for me on the other side.
Gus.
The universe stops on a dime, everything falling away, except him and me. My heart thunders, the sound of my pulse filling my ears, drowning out the rest of the world. I’m too stunned to speak, the words getting caught in my throat like stones through a sifter.
“Hey pretty girl.”
The quirk of a smile awakens something in me, making my stomach flip. Warmth spreads through me and there is no use in fighting it. That strong jaw and those deep-green eyes are my kryptonite.
“Gus…”
“May I come in?”
He nods, gesturing behind me, my wide-open studio apartment on display. Stupefied, I try to answer. I still can’t believe he’s here. This is absolutely inadvisable, and there’s a part of me that wants to tell him that. Push him out the door and hold fast to rules.
But another part—a bigger part—knows this might be the last time we get to be together. No, that it’s probably the last time we’ll get together. As us. Because in order for either of us to come out of this whole thing unscathed, there is only one thing to do.
The universe just handed you the answer…
That can wait though.
“Depends,” I tell him, smiling through the pain. “Do you plan on selling me something, askin’ about my relationship with the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, or mansplainin’ anything to me in any way?”
Gus laughs, the tinge in his jaw relaxing. “No, ma’am. But I brought tacos.”
Holding up a handled, brown paper bag, he turns his puppy-dog eyes on me, and I know there will be no resisting him now. Especially with tacos involved.
I step aside, letting him in, and make my way over to couch, grabbing the pint of ice cream and putting on the lid to get it back in the freezer before it melts. I am not letting this bad boy go to waste. Not when I’m going to need it later. And probably another.
“Hittin’ the hard stuff already?” Gus tries to joke, but it falls flat.
“Cherry Garcia has gotten me through a lot tough moments.” I slam the freezer door, holding my hand there for a moment longer than needed, trying to find the courage to do what I need to do. “Half a dozen breakups and this guy I met in an airport not calling me, for example.”
“I’d like to think that last guy redeemed himself.”
“He did.”
Sucking in a breath, I turn, but Gus is by my side in no time flat. One arm around my waist, the other cupping my cheek, he runs his thumb slowly across my skin, sending a shiver through me. I lean into him, enjoying the feel of his body flush with mine. Safety and comfort surround me as he holds me, not saying a word, letting the moment be.
One last moment.
There is so much I want to say. Do. I want to tell him how I feel. How I really feel. I want to kiss him until he understands the depth of those feelings and until we both can’t breathe. Get lost in each other until nothing else exists. Until everything that is going on outside of these walls goes away .
But that would be a mistake. Because there is something else I have to do instead.
“Margeaux,” he whispers, breaking the silence. Leaning back slightly, his gaze catches mine, and I see it. The same pain I’m feeling.
“It’s inadvisable for you to be here.”
Breaking free, I walk over to the couch, grabbing the bag of tacos to start unpacking. At least if I keep my hands busy, I might be able to hold it together.
Plus, continuing to eat my feelings is absolutely the answer.
Okay, maybe not. But it is making me feel better. Ish.
“So Carl tells me.”
“But you didn’t listen?”
“Did you want me to stay away?”
No…
“We’ve been accused of having an inappropriate relationship and favoritism,” I say, ignoring his question. “I’ve been suspended!”
“So have I,” he tells me, walking over to me. Placing his hands on my hips, he pulls me away from the food, trying to recapture my full attention. Exactly what I don’t need. “It’s standard policy. It’s fine.”
“It is not fine!” I shout, breaking away from him. My voice cracks, my resolve starting to waver. The piece of dental floss from earlier starts to unravel. “Maybe it’s fine for you, Gus Hayes , but it is not fine for me. My entire career is at risk here.”
Gus stares at me for a moment, confusion taking over, then giving way to indignation. “And you think mine isn’t?”
“They aren’t going to fire a Hayes.” I shrug, pointing out the obvious. Way more snark than intended drips from my words, an unintended side effect from the last straw snapping inside me .
There’s no holding back now. A tidal wave of emotion hits me, knocking me back. The intensity of it makes it hard to breathe, my insides shattering like a mirror. A thousand little cracks spiderwebbing in every direction, waiting for the first piece to fall.
“I’ve worked hard to get where I am, Gus. So. Fucking. Hard. And now…now all that is tainted. You and I both know there was zero favoritism going on. But that doesn’t matter. Even the insinuation of conflict of interest is enough. The corporate world is a small one. People talk.”
Gus remains still and perfectly stoic. Like a statue. I swallow hard, waiting for him to move. Say something. Do something. But he doesn’t. He remains just like that, letting me rage on.
So I do.
“There is only one way to rectify this,” I say, my voice catching on the emotion in my throat. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall, but I blink them back. “If we end things now, we both have a chance of salvaging our careers. Of putting the complaint behind us, and letting it be nothing more than a blip. Then it won’t ruin what we’ve worked for.”
My voice is small, but my certainty isn’t. I know what I need to do.
My heart may be shattering, but my head is the one running the show, and I know how it needs to go down. The answer has been presented to me on a silver platter. I simply need to accept. It’s the only way to avoid what I know is coming. I’ve been climbing the corporate ladder long enough to know that all it takes is one misstep to slide all the way down.
All the fucking way.
“You want to break up?”
Want to? No. Fuck, how can he think this is what I want ?
“I’m trying to be pragmatic. To think of our careers. I’ve never let a relationship get in the way before, and…” I trail off, because I am not going to finish that sentence. Instead, I swallow back the tears and push on. “We took a risk, and it didn’t work in our favor. We have to live with the consequences.”
And in this case, that consequence is a broken heart.
“Dexter Wynn called,” I continue, not letting him respond. I need to finish this, so I can finish my ice cream. And cry some more. “He heard Percy is retiring and he offered me a job.”
“What?”
“I’m going to take it.”
“Margeaux.”
Stepping into me, Gus reaches out, but I step back, holding out my hand. I need there to be room between us. Room so I can think.
Leaving here—him—is the last thing I want. But it’s the only way I can save my career. And his. Because the only thing that might be more important than me salvaging my own reputation is not letting Gus trash his. Not letting him lose what he’s also worked so hard to maintain. What his family has worked all these generations to create.
I can’t let the man I love lose all that over me.
I won’t be the woman who slept her way to the top. And I won’t let him be the guy who took advantage of a female employee.
“I’ll give notice next week. It’ll save Hayes time, trouble, and the embarrassment of having to do the inquiry. It’ll leave you unscathed as Hayes’s next CEO.”
“Fuck that!” he exclaims. “I do not care about this job more than you, Margeaux.”
Gus takes two large steps, closing the gap I put between us. There’s less than an inch of space, the heat of his body swirling around me like steam billowing from a street grate, drawing me into him. He doesn’t touch me, just stares down, his eyes as dark and deep as I’ve ever seen them.
“Margeaux, I love you. You were, are, and forever will be worth every risk I have to take. Personally, professionally, doesn’t matter. All that matters to me is that you are by my side as I’m taking that risk.”
I gasp, trying to remember how to breathe. But it’s no use. My lungs have stopped working, right along with all the air Gus sucked out of the room with his declaration. His beautiful, heartfelt declaration.
The tickle of a single tear on my cheek catches me off guard, stealing my attention long enough to delay my response.
“If you really want to end this, I’ll respect that. But only if that’s really what you want. But if you can’t tell me that’s what you want, what you really, really want, then I’m in this. Wholeheartedly. Without question. Just like Tom Petty, because I won’t back down.”
My knees wobble, a sob escaping as the rest of my tears break free. Leave it to Gus to get both the Spice Girls and Tom Petty in there. Although I bet he has no idea he did the first one, and would probably kick himself if he realized it. Making his words mean that much more.
Making what I have to do now hurt that much more.
But I can’t let him do this. I can’t let him lay it all on the line for me.
“I’m taking the job with Dexter. You’ll have my formal resignation on Monday.”
There. Done. Simple as that.
Except it’s not. Every fiber of my being is screaming to take it back. To tell him that I love him too. That if there was ever a man who was worth that risk, that he, August Calder Hayes, is it. Because there is no man on earth like him. No one who has ever understood me like him.
Loved me like him.
And there will probably never be again.
“Don’t let her win,” he grinds out, jaw ticking.
I shrug, careful to keep the small distance between us rather than lean into him. “It’s too late for that.”
Sucking in a breath, I gather the last bit of energy I have to step around him. Cool air rushes around me, making me shiver, and not in the same glorious way that Gus did earlier when he kissed me. No, this shiver is the same one I felt in Europe as the cold wind whipped late at night, leaving me feeling like I’d never be warm again.
Which is exactly how I feel right now.
I don’t stop until I’m at the door, swinging it open wide, hoping he’ll get the message. Looking back at me, like a poor, dejected puppy, Gus nods.
“We’re not done talking about this, pretty girl,” he tells me, stopping right in front of me on his way out.
I don’t reply, knowing that regardless of the words I choose, my voice will betray me. Will show him that I don’t have the strength he thought.
Closing the door, I sink down to the ground, my knees giving out. My heart isn’t far behind, pain slicing through me like the lightning in the sky the night Gus and I met. Pain that won’t go away for a long time. If ever. Leaving Hickory Hills won’t change that.
But at least I’ll have my career.
I don’t know how long I sit like this. Long enough that my legs start to go numb and I know I should move. I don’t, but I should. The pins and needles in my lower limbs match how the rest of me feels, a heinous mix of stinging pain that feels as if it will never subside.
My phone rattles, cutting through the pain, stealing my attention and pushing the large red button that is my last nerve. Seriously. Can’t a girl even wallow in peace?
Pushing to my feet, I grab at it, ready to shut it off completely, then grab the Cherry Garcia again and find the saddest movie I know. One that I know will rip my heart out so that I can pretend that I’m crying from that.
Papa Duck
Magic is in the air! Can you feel it?
Reflexively, I smile. I can’t help it, my grandfather’s voice ringing out as I read the words on the screen. Of course, he means the food in the photo he’s attached in the next text, but my heart twinges.
Not feeling very magical at the moment
Bad day?
Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Alexander might need to share title credit with me
Three little dancing dots appear as my grandfather types, and for a moment I forget about everything, waiting to see what kind of quippy response he’ll have regarding my mention of the book he loved to read to me and my brothers as kids.
Papa Duck
They happen. But remember, ma canette, magic is sometimes of our own making…
Magic is in the air…magic of our own making…
He doesn’t just mean the food.
There’s more to it than that. Hell, maybe it’s never been about the food.
The epiphany hits me so hard that I physically feel it. The weight of the entire world slams into me, making me stumble backward, my knees hitting the couch, buckling until I land squarely on my ass. At least it’s a soft landing.
Said soft landing doesn’t soften the blow, however. The realization that for everything I know—or think that I know—apparently I’ve missed the point. Missed what my grandfather has been telling us all these years.
Because it’s not about the food. At all. It never was.
The magic is something else entirely.
It’s him and my grandmother. The magic he talks about feeling whenever she was around and how that’s how he knew she was his forever. What kept him alive through his time in the army.
It’s my parents, and whatever it was that night in Vegas that inspired them to elope right then and there. To make it all work for the last thirty-plus years.
It’s Gus and me. And that zing I felt in an airport bar while grounded due to a thunderstorm. And then again when I saw him my first day at Hayes. And every day since.
The one that tells me that walking away from him is the biggest mistake I can make.
The one that tells me he’s worth it.
Worth everything.
Even my career.