“Hi honey.” William walks over to me and leans down for a kiss, but I ignore him in favor of the paperwork on my desk. He steps back like an injured puppy, but I can’t be bothered with his dramatics.
I missed a full day of work yesterday plus several hours today, and now I have to play catch-up.
“Hi,” I mumble, my eyes not moving from the paper in front of me.
“Can we talk?”
“We can talk tonight at home. I have work to do.”
He clears his throat. “Are you angry?”
I finally set down the paper I’ve been studying. I rub my forehead, and then I look up at him.
He’s William. He’s solid and true. He’s handsome, and of course I’m attracted to him, but when our eyes meet, there’s no fire. There’s warmth and there’s love, but there’s no passion.
“I’m about ten miles north of angry.”
He sighs. He hates metaphors, but I don’t care. He sits in one of the chairs facing my desk. “I apologize.”
“For what?”
“For how I handled our discussion last night. For not waiting to talk to you in person.”
“You’re apologizing for the wrong thing.”
“Then I’m sorry for whatever you’re mad about.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s a real sincere apology, thanks.”
“What do you want me to say?”
Heat prickles behind my eyes, but I refuse to let tears fall right now. “You’re supposed to love me, William. That means unconditional support.”
“Of course I support you.”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t. If you did, you’d have stood up for Dad. You’d have talked to me the very second the rumors started. You’d have fought to keep this company where it belongs. Instead, you’re siding with the enemy.”
“I handled things wrong. I’m sorry for that.”
“Words aren’t going to fix this.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I think I need some time.”
“For what?” he asks, his voice cautious.
“To be away from you.” My words sound harsh as they pass through my lips, but he deserves worse.
“I’ll give you the afternoon, and we can talk over dinner.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be enough time.”
“How much time do you need?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
He must really hate this. The neat freak in him wants every single aspect of his life tied up with a pretty little bow, and I’m throwing things completely off balance.
He stands, confusion written all over his face, and I feel the tiniest bit of victory that I put that confusion there.
That victorious feeling leads immediately to guilt and shame again, and then Carson flashes through my thoughts and it all starts over in some vicious cycle I can’t control. For once, I’m not sure I want to control this part of my life.
I stare at the door after he leaves, wondering what the hell I’m doing. I can’t be positive because the emotions are fresh, but even though I just put a huge wrinkle in my roadmap, I felt like a bit of a weight was lifted when the door closed behind him.
* * *
I manage to completely avoid William at work for the rest of the day, but I’ll have to face him when he gets home. He often gets home after me because he goes to the gym after work every day, and I’ve always sort of liked that quiet time after a long day at the office. We both work more than the standard eight hours a day—I typically put in ten to eleven, and he does the same—but there’s always that little gap of time when I can sit at home by myself and enjoy the peace before I get dinner started, or before I text William with what to pick up on his way home.
He eyes me apprehensively when he walks in. I’m sitting on the couch, leafing through a catalogue. I haven’t started dinner for him, nor did I send him a text with what to get. I had a salad when I got home and didn’t bother with a meal for him. I’m curious to see what he’s going to do here.
“What’s for dinner?” he asks.
“You’re on your own,” I say.
He sighs. “Can I ask you a question?”
I avoid pointing out that that was a question, and instead I just nod my head wordlessly.
“How long are you going to hold this against me?”
His question is interesting, and it strikes a chord of anger in me. I set the catalogue down on the cushion next to me, and I fold my hands into my lap. I stare down at my hands for a few seconds before I shift my gaze to him.
“How long am I going to hold what against you?”
He motions between the two of us. “This thing you’re mad about.”
“What am I mad about?”
He shrugs. “Our phone call?”
“Is that a question? Or do you actually know why I’m upset?”
“Our phone call. I know you’re mad about the whole attorney-client thing.”
“William, if that’s why you think I’m mad, you’re straight-up stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I have to be honest with you, Sylvie, now I’m a little mad at you for calling me stupid.”
“Then be mad.” I knot my fingers more tightly together as if I’m drawing strength from my own grip. “I think it’s complete bullshit that you’re siding with stockholders over my dad.”
“You know how I feel about that sort of language, and that’s not what this is.”
“Yes it is.” I unknot my hands. “You said there are rumors, and you withheld that information from me. You said people expressed concerns to you, and you didn’t share those with me. We’re supposed to be a team, William, but you kept information to yourself and didn’t bother to tell me what was going on in my own goddamn company.” By the time I’m done speaking, my hands are clenched tightly at my sides.
“Sylvie, calm down.”
I point a shaky finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare tell me how to feel.” My voice is a hiss that’s sort of scary even to my own ears. I like this power.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You have every right to be angry.”
“You’re damn right I do. And you know what, William? There are a few things I know that you don’t, too, and it scares me that we can so easily keep secrets from one another.”
“Then let’s not keep secrets.”
“That’s really cute coming from you.”
He looks defeated. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, William, but I think maybe it would be best for us to take a little break.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I want some time to myself to figure out if I can trust someone who keeps secrets from me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Then how come I am?”
He walks toward me and sits beside me then rests his hand on my knee. I look at it with disdain. “Sylvie, this is us. Let me apologize for the way I handled things and let’s make up.”
I shake my head. “That would be so nice and neat, wouldn’t it? But no, that’s not how this is going to work.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
Carson’s face flashes through my mind for about the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours. Am I looking for an excuse to be mad at William? Am I looking for an out because I feel something for someone I don’t even know? Or has this been a long time coming and I just didn’t see it until he did something that proved to me where his real allegiance lies? “Nothing’s gotten into me. I’m angry, William, and I need some time to either get past that or not.”
“So you’re saying we could be over?” He’s ever the lawyer, calm and cool under pressure, and a big part of me wants to see him crack. He won’t, though.
“I’m saying it’s bullshit that people are spreading rumors and hoping for a takeover so they don’t have to deal with my dad.”
“You know how much I respect your father.”
“Do I? I thought I did, but I’m pretty sure I don’t really know anything about you.” I stand. “I’m going up to bed. I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.”
“For how long?”
I shrug. “Until I’m ready.”
I leave the room, but before I’m out of earshot, I hear him ask, “Ready for what?”
If he has to ask, he really is clueless.