Chapter 7

Jonathan

“Do you think I won’t fire you because you’re family?” I narrowed my eyes at Hayley and shook my head. She’d been showing up late to meetings, turning in sub-par work, and asking my secretary to cover for her almost every day.

“I think you won’t fire me because your fiancée won’t let you.” She smiled.

“What makes you think Claire has any control over what I do with my company?”

“Because she does.” She laughed. “I’m not being lazy, Mr. Statham. I promise. I’m still adjusting to the West Coast and working here...And to be fair, I redid all those reports hours after you marked them up. You’re just being extra hard on me because I’m your sister and you know it.”

“Okay.” I shut my folder. “Who’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy that turns you into a blubbering idiot at every board meeting. The guy who fed you that bullshit line about me being extra hard on you. I put an eighty thousand dollar bonus clause in your contract just for showing up to work every day. I’m pretty sure that means I’m being the most lenient with you. ”

“Did you just call me a blubbering idiot?”

“You have forty eight hours to re-do that mess of a presentation you gave this morning. And since you don’t want to tell me who this man is, I’m going to find out and then I’m going to—”

“Have a few words with him, i.e. ruin his life. You really have to wonder why I don’t tell you who I’m dating anymore?”

“So you are dating someone?”

She stood up. “Is there anything else you need from me today? I have a thirty page presentation to redo per the CEO’s ridiculous request. Word around the office is that he’s an ass.”

“He’s also brilliant and extremely sexy.”

She rolled her eyes and walked out of my office.

I picked up my phone to call Corey so I could get to the bottom of her secret life, but I spotted a strange red envelope on top of my mail stack. I put the phone down and reached for it, noticing that there was no return address—just a simple “To Mr. Statham” written across the front.

Is this the Red Ball invite Angela told me about? Did I forget to reserve tickets for me and Claire?

I opened the envelope and pulled out the plain white notecard:

Mr. Statham,

As amused as I am about you feeling “threatened” by my presence in San Francisco, please be advised that I am a lawyer and can press necessary charges against you for the following criminal offenses: Stalking, mail tampering, and being an asshole. Well, that last one isn’t necessarily an offense, but as soon as it becomes one, I’ll be sure to serve you with the proper papers.

Since you seem to enjoy hijacking my letters to Claire, I thought I’d send you one of your own so you can feel just as special.

Enjoy your day,

Ryan Hayes

I crumpled his letter into a ball and tossed it into the trash can.

I didn’t feel “threatened” by him at all.

Annoyed? Absolutely. Irritated? Definitely.

The fact that he was a lawyer didn’t mean shit to me. I had the district attorney’s number on speed dial and a team of high profile lawyers that would make his accomplishments look like a high school student’s.

I really hope I get to see this man in person one day...SOON...

His pathetic letters to Claire still came like clockwork, although they were a lot shorter now: “Can you join me for just one cup of coffee?” “You can’t give me five minutes? That’s all I’m asking for, Claire...” “I was once your best friend...Remember that.”

Before I could call Greg and ask him if there were any new updates, Angela’s voice came over the intercom.

“Mr. Statham?” she called.

“Yes, Angela?”

“Your mother is here. Are you available to speak to her today?”

I hesitated. “Sure...”

I leaned back in my chair and watched as she stepped into the room with her shoulders slumped. For some reason, she looked sad—an emotion I wasn’t used to seeing from her.

“You don’t look too good.” I raised my eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Besides the fact that my only daughter still won’t acknowledge my existence, and I have to ask my son’s secretary if I have permission to see him every time I show up to his office?”

I sighed. “What do you want?”

“I um...I was just doing some shopping today at the Farmer’s Market and I...I was wondering if you wanted to join me for dinner at my place tonight...I’m making your favorite.”

“You know what my favorite food is?”

“Pasta. Chicken alfredo with extra pepper to be exact.”

“I don’t have any memories of you cooking anything when I was younger, so I’m not sure if I’d enjoy it. I appreciate the offer, but Claire and I already have plans for our anniversary. Besides, Thursday is family dinner night.”

“Right...Well, that’s...That’s all I came by to ask... Thanks for not turning me away today.”

“Wait a minute,” I said before she could turn away. I reached into my desk and sifted through a stack of envelopes. “I spoke to Claire about this and...She wants you to know that she doesn’t harbor any ill feelings about what you did to her last year.”

“So, you can officially forgive me for everything now?”

“No.” I walked around my desk to hand her the envelope. “But I do want you to come to my wedding. It would be nice to have at least one of my birth parents there.”

Her eyes lit up and she ran her fingers across the engraved “S” that sat on the edge of the flap. Then she slowly pulled the invitation out and stood still, silently reading it to herself.

I expected her to say something negative or ask “how much” we’d spent on the invitations, but she leaned forward and hugged me. Hard.

“I’m sorry I was so terrible to you when you were growing up, Jonathan...” She cried. “I really really am...I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m very proud of all you’ve done with your life despite the fucked up start you got...And I’m glad you’re getting married. I’ve never seen you this happy before...”

I looked down into her teary eyes, trying not to get sucked into her worn-out apologies.

She hugged me one last time and stepped back, pulling a small blue box out of her jacket. “I led a rehab session yesterday and all the women were talking about how much they missed celebrating their kids’ birthdays when they were younger and—”

“Stop it.”

“No...I know I’ve missed all of your birthdays and important milestones, but...Here.” She pressed the box into my hand and rushed out of my office without looking back.

I set the box on my desk and stared at it, unsure of what to do. I was honestly tempted to throw it away and forget that she’d ever stopped by. Yet, as much as I loathed her for things she’d done in the past, I couldn’t deny that she was trying to make things right.

I slowly unwrapped the light blue box and hesitated before flipping off the top: A silver Audemar Piguet watch and a small, handwritten note:

Jonathan,

I’ve been a terrible mother to you throughout your life—even more terrible for what I did to your fiancée last year...I want you to know that I’m fully aware of the mistakes I’ve made and if you ever let me back into your life, I won’t make the same mistakes again...In the grand scheme of things, I don’t have much time left to make things right, but I’ll be grateful for any seconds you choose to share with me from this point on...

You deserved so much more than what I gave you,

Mom

Ugh...

I felt that soft spot in my heart melting, that spot that wouldn’t let me give up on this woman, no matter how many times she fucked things up.

I rushed onto my private elevator and rode it down to the parking lot. I headed over to her car and held the door open before she could shut it.

“Would you be opposed to making the pasta at my house tonight?” I sighed. “We can make it together.”

**

My mom looked around my kitchen, running her fingers against the granite countertops. “You have a very nice home, Jonathan. It suits you well...”

“Thank you.” I poured a tall glass of wine and handed it to her. “Are you allowed to drink alcohol yet?”

She shook her head.

“My mistake.” I set the glass down and walked over to the refrigerator. “Cranberry, orange, or apple?”

“Cranberry.”

“I’ll have the same then.” I poured two glasses and sat across from her at the breakfast bar.

For the past hour and a half we’d traded recipes and made a huge pot of chicken alfredo. There were only “Oh, I always put extra cheese on the noodles once they’re done boiling,” and “I never use pre-packaged garlic” sentences between us. Nothing personal.

Whenever those empty words weren’t being spoken, there was nothing but an awkward silence hanging in the air between us, a silence that revealed we still weren’t comfortable with each other.

I took a sip of my juice and decided to give it a try. “How are you liking your new job at the department store? You’re working at Saks Fifth Avenue now, right?”

“Oh, no. I quit that after my first day.” She laughed.

“What? Why?”

“It wasn’t my scene—too many fashion trends to keep up with every week. I work at a salon now. I do make-up and eyebrow waxing.”

“You enjoy that?”

“A lot.” She smiled. “I know I don’t need the money but I’m really really good at it and I love seeing the reaction after someone’s been made over...” Her bright smile dimmed. “Claire’s not coming to dinner because I’m here, right?”

I looked at my watch. “Actually, she should be home any minute. Her assistant said she was running late. I didn’t get a chance to tell her you were coming.”

“Oh...Well, great. Feel free to tell her that my pasta is ten times better than yours when she gets here.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Because you use oregano?”

“Because it just tastes better and you know it.”

I did know it, and I’d written down everything she used so I could copy it for next time.

Since Claire still wasn’t home an hour later, I asked my mom to make another batch so I could have it flown to Arizona for Ashley and Caroline. As she and I continued to talk, I realized that for the first time in my life, I actually enjoyed being around her—even if we only discussed the simple things.

“Thanks for having me over, Jonathan. This really meant a lot to me.” She stood in front of her car in tears. “I hope this wasn’t the last time...”

I stepped forward and hugged her. “It wasn’t. I’ll see you in therapy next week.”

She nodded and slipped inside the car, and I waited for her to make it down the long driveway before I went inside.

I was putting away the leftover pasta when I happened to look up at the glass clock that hung on the wall.

That has to be a mistake...Did we never reset it?

I pulled my phone out to double check and realized that our clock was absolutely right.

Claire was testing me. Again.