“Y ou know, she could have come with us,” my mother says to me as we exit the building and head down the sidewalk .

It’s a hot one outside today, and I’m already sweating in my suit. Though not just from the heat. I’m having a struggle dealing with my emotions, the ones dragged out last night by my confession to Samantha that I’m adopted. Why the fuck did I tell her that? I gave her an opening, and now she’s just going to poke and poke at it until the truth spills out .

But that is never going to happen. I control the flow of information, and I won’t make that same mistake again. I let my guard down and that was my poor decision .

“She’s fine,” I say in a harsher tone than I mean. I clear my throat and try for gentler. “You guys got here earlier than I expected .”

“Turns out when you have a limo picking you up and dropping you off, you don’t have to worry about finding parking,” Dad says wryly .

I lead them across the street and we head to the Italian restaurant that opened last month. The owner greets us with a welcoming smile—we have the best seat in the house reserved .

Seems like he’s waiting on us personally. He shares the specials of the day, and we order a couple of appetizers, mussels in white wine and meatballs rumored to be as big as your fist .

“Well, this place is fancy,” Mom muses as she looks around. There are red fabrics draped along the wall, and our booth is plush and comfortable. Dark woods accentuate the bronze metal fixtures, along with old-world paintings of Italy featured in strategic places. The owner clearly has taken the time to create an inviting atmosphere .

And my parents appreciate it .

Even though I’ve made a lot of money, my family is still humble and refuses to take much from me, only when absolutely necessary—I can count on two fingers how many times that’s happened. Once when they owed back taxes on their home, and once when my uncle’s jewelry shop needed upfront cash for new inventory and equipment .

We make small talk, which helps distract me from my errant thoughts about Samantha, and finally our appetizers come. We switch to talking about various things…which eventually leads to their favorite topic. My dating life .

“You ever gonna settle down?” My mom hacks off half of a meatball and takes great pleasure in dipping it in marinara, then nibbling on it bit by bit .

I ignore her, hoping to divert her attention, and dig the meat out of a mussel. “These are fantastic. Best I’ve had in ages .”

She raises a brow at me and shakes her head. “It’s not good for you to be single .”

“I know we’re eating at an Italian place, but we’re not actually Italian, you know,” I say. “You don’t have to marry me off to make sure someone feeds me. I’m doing a decent job taking care of myself .”

Dad laughs. “You know she’ll never stop worrying about you, Bentley .”

“I just want you to be happy.” Mom puts down her fork and pats my hand. “You’re so…closed off. I hate seeing you this way. All you do is think about work, but there’s more to life, you know .”

“We can’t all be you and Dad,” I say lightly as I remove my hand and drop it into my lap. My appetite is suddenly gone .

Dad wisely chooses to stay quiet, knowing when he’s fighting a losing battle. But Mom won’t give up. “I know lots of eligible girls — ”

“No one says that anymore,” I tell her with a warning tone. “And I’m not looking.” I know my words are clipped, but I don’t like her pushing me. I’m perfectly happy alone .

Well, I’m functional. Happy is not something I even think about .

I have a sudden flash of Samantha in my arms, her soft smile as she beamed up at me. The urge to hold her closer and never let her go. But she doesn’t know me, not really. She wouldn’t smile like that if she saw the darkness I lock away .

My family and I have never talked about the reason I’m adopted. It’s the elephant in the room. And maybe they think I’ve gotten over it, but truth is, I haven’t. I’m still haunted by what I saw .

They’ll never understand me because they’ll never understand the brutality of what happened to me, to my mother, to my entire world .

Our main meal arrives. I turn my attention to eating. Dad finally distracts Mom enough with a new topic to get her to stop hounding me about women. The food is probably good, if I could taste it. But I’m moving on autopilot. Faking my way through another thing .

Same old, same old .

Lunch can’t end soon enough. I’m a mass of tension as we get back to my office. The limo is waiting there—I already texted the driver—and I give my adoptive parents perfunctory hugs and send them off .

And now I have to go upstairs and face my biggest problem. A woman who is becoming far too prominent in my life. I’m not in a place to be what she wants or deserves. I know she isn’t saying anything, but her prying questions last night gave me a hint that she’s going to want more and more from me .

Rightfully so .

And I can’t give her more .

I ride the elevator to my floor and when I get to Samantha’s desk, I say in a quiet tone, “I need you to come in my office .”

This isn’t going to be an easy conversation, but it’s necessary. For my wellbeing and for hers .

I push every ounce of emotion out of me as I move behind my desk and sit in my chair. She hovers in the doorway, her eyes radiating her unease, confusion .

“Close the door and have a seat .”

This is a deviation from our norm. She’s sensing something is happening, because she closes the door and takes halting steps, then settles into the seat. Tries to school her face into a neutral expression and doesn’t speak .

“This isn’t working out,” I tell her bluntly. “The arrangement we’ve made doesn’t work for me anymore. If you are to remain employed at Strongwell Ink, it will be as my employee and nothing else. Strictly professional .”

Truth is, I need her gone. And I’m hoping she’ll see I don’t mean for her to stay—every day she’s here just adds more pressure to me. She’s a disruption. And I have to eliminate the problem. Samantha has to go .

Her throat bobs as she swallows hard twice. Her face is like stone. “I… Is this because I was prying last night? I know you didn’t want to talk — ”

“I made things very clear up front. I told you I have exacting demands.” I can sense my emotions shutting down one by one. I’m not feeling anything anymore, just a shell of a person with a voice. I welcome the numbness, because she makes me feel things I don’t want to feel. I was doing just fine before I met her, and then she came along and wrecked things. “This was a very particular arrangement, and it was beginning to evolve into something I’m not interested in. So either you remain here as just my employee, or you part ways with Strongwell Ink .”

Emotions are warring on her face. She’s weighing what I’ve said, trying to analyze me, her bold eyes locked on mine. But she won’t find anything. I’m not here anymore .

I see the moment her pride rises to the surface. Samantha stands. In this moment, she is full of rage and hurt, and the one last shred of humanity in me hates that I caused her this pain. But it’s better for me to hurt her now than hurt her later. When she realizes I’ll never make her happy .

“I’m offering my resignation,” she says, “effective immediately.” Then Samantha turns away from me, and I’m left staring at her back as she quietly opens and closes the door behind her .

It’s done now. And it’s for the best. I am fully numb as I type out an email to Kim asking her to please arrange for Samantha’s tasks to be redistributed again, as I am in need of Kim’s services for the indefinite future .

I don’t leave the office to tell Samantha to stay after all. I don’t tell her that she aroused and stimulated me in a way a woman never has before. I don’t, because I can’t afford to let myself feel those emotions. If I unlock them, they will all come spilling out. And I’ll be destroyed, because as it is I’m only hanging together because of my stubborn will, and the thickness of the defensive walls I erected as a child .

Without the walls, I will be rubble. I will be like an open wound .

The only thing I truly have is this company. It’s my pride and joy. I started it after high school, built it from the ground up. Every penny I’ve earned, I earned through my blood, sweat, and tears .

In interviews, when people ask me why publishing, I tell them that education and reading was fundamental to my life and I want to spread that passion to others for generations to come. But the truth is, one of my most vivid memories is my biological mother curling up against me in our trailer, us lying on a cheap leather couch, her reading to me .

She loved reading, and she’d hit every yard sale in sight to find new books. Any genre, any type, she didn’t care. Reading was her escape from poverty, from being alone and raising a kid with no support, no family .

And then, one night, everything changed. My world was blown apart and all I have left are faint memories, most of which I’d just as soon not think about .

Coming back to a much different present circumstance, I stand up and stare out the window of my corner office. Below me, New York City is bustling, cars and buses honking, people rushing to and fro. I have a life here, a company I built into something big and important. I came from a background no one could even imagine .

I did that alone. The way I work best .

I can’t afford to let a woman bring me down and tangle my life. Especially since she was dangerously close to piercing through the armor .

It’s strange, but I can feel the moment Samantha’s gone. Like a warmth left the room and was filled in by the cooler air around it. I should be relieved, and I am .

I am .

Mostly .

Kim comes to my office a short time later, and wisely she doesn’t ask questions. Just tells me she’s set up at the desk and to let her know what I need from her. Working with her is easy. There’s no challenge, no tension. None of those pesky feelings getting in the way. I know what to expect. I know who I am .

This is what I need. This is the way I like my life .

So why do I feel like my stomach is about to twist in on itself—why do I feel a knife in my guts when I picture her smile ?

I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. I turn away from that smile. Samantha’s just another faint memory now, soon forgotten .