Chapter 4
Four
My head spins faster with every passing second, yet Trish keeps right on talking.
“The Rutledge family holds the businesses we acquire to undeniably high standards,” she says.
“And we’ve known you work more than everyone, but we’ve also seen the benefit.
Your dedication made us greedy—you win, and we like you winning—but today proves we need to focus more on applying our principles internally.
I thought I didn’t know what you did outside of work because you were private, but now I see it’s because we haven’t done enough to help foster that part of your life.
I don’t know what you do outside of work because you don’t have time to do it. ”
The blood drains from my face and possibly my body as I drop back to the chair. “What?”
“You don’t have work-life balance, Reese. Your only nameable hobby is owning a rental property and walking to work in pumps—”
“That was a joke!”
“And—” She pauses to let me know she’s not done.
“Your mom is having brain surgery and you didn’t think you could move a meeting for it?
” She scoffs. “We’ve failed you, Reese. We are a family first, here.
You should be home. You should be thinking about what you want out of life.
Matt can put the wheels on this deal to get it moving. You need time. People in your life.”
There is no air to breathe. “And what makes Matt more suited than me?”
“He doesn’t look like he’s one shot of espresso away from going off the rails, for one.”
I suck in a sharp breath—I do not look that bad.
“And he goes home at night. He’s in a bowling league. Has three kids and a wife.”
My blood roars in my ears. “So because he’s married you’re giving him my account?
” How nice it must be for men to be able to make the baby but carry none of the responsibility nor take a ding on their careers because somebody else will.
And now, Trish, a woman whom I’d expect to know better, is telling me that even though I’m good at my job, I’m not good enough because I don’t have a spouse or children because I’ve spent all my time working.
For them.
“Because you work too damn hard, he’s temporarily sponsoring the account.”
Anger begins a slow crawl from my chest to my neck. I look at the clutter and tea and papers on her desk and have the fury-driven urge to knock every item off it in a sweep of rage. I won’t—I would never—but I want to. God, do I want to.
“He sucks lollipops,” I say through gritted teeth.
I’m on my feet now, pacing, raking my hands through my hair.
Fuck The Family.
And her.
And most definitely Matt.
Trish stays calm. “I see a lot of myself in you, Reese. You’re driven, you’re smart.
Decisive. You know how to smell bullshit from a mile away.
But the difference between us is, I know one day this job will end, and I need to be living for something else.
You’re giving everything in your life to the firm, and I’m here to tell you we don’t want it all. You need to find something else.”
With that, I’m pissed enough to stop pacing and slap my hands on her desk.
“I’ve worked my ass off here,” I shout. “Isn’t that exactly what I’m supposed to be doing as partner?
Making us all shitloads of money? My personal life shouldn’t matter, but since it does, what else do you think I can do to improve on the damn good job I’m already doing? ”
She stands across from me. “People to go home to, for one.”
“So you’re not giving me the account because I live alone?” I laugh maniacally. “I must have missed that part of the job requirement. Tell me, do the complaints on my living situation come before or after you deposit the money I make you and your brothers into your bank accounts?”
“We are grateful for every dollar.” Her voice stays level. “This is us repaying you. Thanking you.”
“Thanking me?” I’m incredulous.
“You might not be able to see it, but you don’t have anything other than a fat paycheck. Woman to woman, you don’t know how to turn it off and—”
“I—”
“—it’s evident you weren’t fully with us today and you need a break.”
“A break?” I gasp. “What would I do with a break?”
At this, she laughs. “The fact you’re asking that proves my point, Reese.”
I’m pacing again. Fuming. Glaring at the Chicago skyline. The windows that were my crown jewels earlier now make me feel like a blue whale in a fishbowl. “I don’t want a break.”
“You need one,” she insists. “You need to get your head on straight, and you need time away from here to do that. I’m strongly recommending a three-month sabbatical—my brothers agreed.”
I whip my head toward her. The fact The Family has discussed this makes me want to vomit. But—a sabbatical?
She continues. “They’ve noted your long hours for months, and I’ve defended you.
I assumed you had it all under control. But today when they asked if I thought you were up to tackling an account of this magnitude, given how tired and distracted you were, I had to agree with them.
Your job will be here when you get back, and you can pick up where Matt leaves off with Fizz Co. You need this.”
Again I say, “What?” but what I really mean is what the flying fish of a fuckity fuck?
“I haven’t missed a day of work in years,” I fight back. “What am I going to do with a three-month sabbatical?”
“Go home. Be with your mom. Figure out what you want out of your life. You said yourself you’ve been waiting to start a family until things settle down.” She shrugs. “Be settled.”
I am gobsmacked. “Just to be clear—you’re telling me that even though I do a good job—some would argue the best—but because I’m not settled, Matt gets my account while I disappear for three months like some knocked-up Catholic teenager?”
“Because you don’t have anything but work, we are encouraging you to take time away to breathe.” Trish circles her desk to stand next to me, pausing long enough for her words to land.
They do.
Like a bitch slap.
“You are going to burn out and go up in flames working the way you are. I’ve seen it before with some of the most promising partners in the company. I don’t want that for you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You need people.”
“I’m. Fine.”
Her voice loudens as she punctuates her next words: “And you still need people, Reese.”
This can’t happen. I refuse. She might be right that all I have is work, but the truth is, all I have is work.
If she takes this from me, I’ll have nothing.
I’ll twiddle my thumbs in my condo. Alone.
She might think this is what I need, but it will make things worse.
I’ll drive myself mad thinking about Matt and Fizz Co and my empty office.
I will not let her push me out into some three-month hiatus from work to think about things I’ve been perfectly fine not thinking about.
But I also know Trish. If it’s gotten to the point where she’s telling me this, the decision is made. I can threaten to jump from this building, and she won’t change her mind. Her decisiveness has always been something I admired until right now when she’s pitting it against me.
Out of nowhere, I’m in the elevator ride from this morning—from all my mornings—and two truths collide: I’m furious, but Trish isn’t totally wrong.
I don’t have the personal life or people that I thought I’d have by now, but I also won’t let her make those decisions for me.
If she wants me to settle, I’ll settle alright. On my own fucking terms.
So Matt’s married. So Matt’s on a bowling league. He also has a wife to wipe all those little asses while he sucks his godforsaken lollipops.
I’ll do him one better—all of them.
I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and look her dead in the eyes. “Good.”
Trish’s brows raise. “Good?”
Everyone thinks I don’t have a life; I’ll show them just how much of a life I can have.
My heart thumps in my throat. “I’ve been looking into sperm donors.”
Her eyes widen. “Sperm donors?”
“Yes.” I absolutely have not, but if Trish thinks she can bully me into making life-altering decisions, she can kiss my ass. I’ll make life-altering decisions on my own, thank you very much.
I’ve always wanted kids, so I’ll have a kid. Hell, I was supposed to have a kid five years ago. Honestly, it’s about damn time I did this.
I’m glad I thought of it.
“I’m still in the research phase,” I explain, “but I’ve narrowed it down to a few clinics.
The one on the twelfth floor. A few others.
” Nope. “I was waiting for this pitch and my mother’s surgery to be over to make my final decision.
Now that both of those are done, I’ll have no problem moving forward with selecting a donor. ”
“Really?”
“Yes.” My voice stays even, but inside, I’m physically fighting my eyes to keep from crying and my throat to keep from screaming and my middle fingers to keep from waving her way.
She doesn’t believe me; I don’t care. She just single-handedly set women’s rights back to the Stone Age with this conversation, but I refuse to humiliate myself any more than I already have by begging or letting her see how devastating this is.
Maybe the last fifteen years of forgoing a personal life to be a champion of productivity was a grave mistake, but I still have my dignity, and I plan on keeping it.
“Good,” Trish says, watching me in silence as I pick up my phone off the floor and sling my purse over my shoulder. “I’m happy to hear you’re being proactive about something you want.”
My gaze catches on the windows—her billion-dollar view of the city.
I need to get out of here, but the fact this is happening—the surrealness of it all—won’t let me leave.
Like maybe if I stand here long enough, she’ll say, never mind, or instead of three months, let’s try a long weekend.
But she doesn’t say anything. Neither of us do for the entire time it takes a plane to cut across the clear blue sky.
Finally, I look at her. “If I refuse the sabbatical, are you firing me?”
“I wouldn’t fire you, but I think you should.”
“But if I don’t?”
“You should, Reese,” she says with a firm finality.
“We’ve passed up a lot of deals that would make us a lot of money because of Dad’s values—sometimes it pisses me off.
” This would shock me if she wasn’t mid firing me for three months.
“But when it comes to people—real people that work for us?” She gives me a long look.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I care.
I won’t let you burn out. Take the damn sabbatical. ”
In a controlled voice, I repeat, “But if I don’t?”
She looks at me, shakes her head, and lets out a long sigh. “Then Matt gets the account as permanent sponsor.”
My teeth grind so hard I expect to taste dust on my tongue. I turn away from her and try to focus on something out the windows, but the entire horizon is blurred by rage.
“This isn’t a punishment, Reese,” Trish says to my back. “It’s a thank you. It’s us taking care of our employees. You owe this to yourself. Take some time. Help your mom. Get to know yourself. Start the family you want.”
The world sputters to a stop as the words settle within the glass walls.
I take a three-month break or lose Fizz Co for good.
I take a three-month break or the title of biggest acquisition landed in firm history has Matt’s name.
I take a three-month break or I will forever be Reese Conway, the woman who worked harder than everyone but had no life, so her career imploded.
In my silence, she steps next to me, facing the same coveted view as me.
“It’s a damn good view,” she says, breaking the silence. “But it isn’t the best one you’ll see in a lifetime. Not by a long shot.”
We stand there a beat, staring at the city, and all I keep thinking is this can’t be happening. It can’t. It’s a dream. A nightmare. Anything but the reality of a woman who has worked her ass off to get to this very spot.
Trish returns to her desk and collects a few papers. “I have a meeting to get to.”
I nod, equal parts sad and mad. I should follow her out, but the tips of my heels have fused to the floor and won’t let me budge.
At the doorway of her office, Trish pauses. “Don’t let a job be the reason you don’t live the life you want.”
The funny thing is, this is the life I want. At least I thought it was until ten minutes ago.
She disappears down the hall and I stand alone in a cage of windows.
I want to shatter every single one.