Page 44 of Built to Last

“I would love to but he’s on the board. Firing me or Paul requires board approval the way hiring us did. I assure you my mother would be haranguing me about taking food from his poor babies’ mouths,” I reply. “She’s worried about everyone eating. I tried to explain to her that he won’t be able to feed them if he takes over and runs the place into the ground. Sometimes I think she would rather let Paul have the position so a man is in charge.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You know you could get a job anywhere, right? You’re not tied to one company. You’re skilled, and you’re about to be something of a celebrity. You have literal connections to royalty. You’re not stuck. You are in a unique position to follow whatever dream you like.”

Dreams. I have a weird connection to that word. “I don’t know that I ever had one. I knew what I was supposed to do from the time I was a kid. Like as soon as I was capable of holding a hammer, my dad had one in my hand. I guess that’s why it hurt so much to find out he actually intended to give the company to my husband.”

“He what?” Reid asks, obviously in disbelief.

I haven’t even shared this with my friends. “It’s something my mom told me. Dad never really thought I would run the company. He thought I would get married and my husband would manage the company. I’m not sure how he intended to find a man who could magically walk into the job. Mom assures me he had a few candidates lined up.”

Reid huffs. “I can tell you how he expected it would work. He expected you to teach him. My father…well, I saw it a lot. He was propped up by the incredibly intelligent women he hired. Assistants. They did most of the work for him, and he took all the credit. He would promise them the world and never deliver. There was this woman who came up with an idea that brought company expenses down by ten percent. Would you like to know what he did to her?”

“Probably not. Your dad seems like an asshole.” The more I hear about the Dorsey patriarch the more sympathy I have for Reid. Who does actually work well with others. All the people on my crew adore him and think he and Jeremiah are the best. Probably because they often come to set with cronuts.

“He was an asshole of the highest order. He laid her off and announced he’d saved another half a percent and told the shareholders it had all been his idea.” He sighs and his arms clutch me closer. “I’m glad he never wanted either of us to take over the company.”

Yes, but he still reaps the rewards of owning all that stock. He doesn’t depend on working to live the way I do. We are from two different worlds. “Did you ever think about it?”

“Think about sitting in some office plotting how to get more cash out of people who can’t afford it?” he muses. “No. I knew I wasn’t going to follow in dear old dad’s footsteps. The truth of the matter is he was done with us when we turned eighteen. He blew through as much money as he could. I think he somehow knew he wasn’t going to make it to eighty and wanted to spend it all if he could. So he left us with the penthouse and the stock, and we had to figure things out from there. The first time I walked into a board meeting they laughed at me.”

I cuddle closer, the warmth of our bodies lulling me. If there is one thing I can empathize with, it’s feeling shitty at a board meeting. I had to start going to them way too young. “That wasn’t fair of them. Did you vote the CEO out? I’ve been told it’s an easy thing to do.”

He chuckles, and I’m so close I feel it on my skin. “Not in my case. My father’s will was interesting. But I do not want to think about my dad right now. We need to talk about something.”

And all that lovely intimacy is gone. I know exactly what he’s going to say, and at least one of us is being an adult about this. I should thank him. “This is a one-time thing. I get it.”

He turns slightly so I can see his quizzical expression. “Why? I mean, that’s not what I was going to say, but maybe we should talk about it. Why would you think this has to be a one and done thing? Harper, that was incredible. Do you really think you never want to experience that again? You must have way better sex than I’ve had because the idea of never being with you again is not something I want to contemplate.”

His words kind of shake me. I sit up. There’s some illumination from the window high above us. This level of Banover Place is mostly below the street line, but there are two windows right below the ceiling that let in natural light. Or natural NYC light, which at night is from the streetlights above. It sends a slash of illumination across the room, putting Reid in shadows. “You don’t even like me.”

He shifts so he’s on his side, head propped up with one hand. “I argue with you. That doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I think I was open and honest about liking you from the beginning. We disagree on things, and we haven’t learned each other’s languages yet. You, on the other hand, do not like me. I think I can work with it. Honestly, I’ve had worse relationships.”

We’re in a relationship? Also, that’s super sad. “Reid, we just had hate sex.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. We had inevitable, let the steam out because we’ve been stubborn sex. Hate sex does not end up with the participants cuddling on… Is this an air mattress? We need to get something better if we’re going to do this very often because my legs are hanging off. Hey, I’ve heard there are some tunnels that lead to the hotel across the street. We could get a room and sneak over there when we need to. Think about how much nicer this would be if we could also order room service.”

The truth is I am hungry. A charcuterie board after athletic sex might be amazing. My last boyfriend wouldn’t even spring for Taco Bell because he was worried about his abs.

Reid might be right about the hate sex. I don’t exactly hate him right now. He’s completely adorable lying there. But how can I trust him? Do I need to trust him in order to enjoy being with him for a brief period of time? It’s not like I’m looking for marriage here. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Reid sits up, leaning his back against the wall. This puts his gorgeous chest on display and the sheet is hovering around his hips, dangerously close to showing off that part of him that entirely pleased me not ten minutes before. “I think it’s a great idea. I have zero desire to yell at you right now. I’m relaxed and calm in a way I haven’t been in forever.”

“It’ll pass.” I take the top blanket with me when I stand. I’m getting antsy again and it’s all about the fact that I don’t want to get up at all. I want to stay in that too-small bed with him. “I understand what happened was exciting and spectacular, but you have to know it’s not the kind of thing that can last. We’re a flash fire. It might be hot in the beginning, but it’s going to burn us both in the end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” His tone has gone soft.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean a flash fire can be contained,” he replies.

At least he’s getting my metaphor. “Yes, by dosing it with a ton of cold water—which in this case is reality—and being put out entirely. Which we did. We gave into the temptation, and we don’t have to do it anymore.”

A brow rises. “Really? I don’t think so. I think you’re going to wake up tomorrow and want me every bit as much as I want you right now. As I’ve wanted you every minute of every day since I met you. I didn’t say you put out the fire. I said if the fire is dangerous, you tame it. No one wants to live without warmth in their lives. I know I don’t, but the truth of the matter is I’ve been afraid of it. I think that’s why I end up with the women I date. I watched my father go through woman after woman, and every time he was excited and passionate about the new lady. Obviously, since he often forgot he had children. It always died out, and he cheated on the woman he was so passionate about with a new woman. So the flash fire scares me because I know where it leads. But what if it doesn’t have to?”

I can understand where he’s coming from. My dad cheated, though he never left my mom and she never made what she would call “a fuss.” Sometimes I wish she had. “Where would it lead? Passion like this is amazing, but it’s also brittle. It breaks easily. It’s a storm that passes and ravages everything.”

“Or we could find a way to make it softer. Make it stronger,” he says, his words filled with warmth. “I think that’s what I’m figuring out. My ideas about love and sex are wrapped up in my childhood, and the truth of the matter is I wasn’t surrounded by good examples of love and friendship. I saw my father’s world, which was warped by his selfishness. I saw my mother leaving Jeremiah and I behind to find herself. So when I chose a woman as a companion I wanted one I didn’t feel too much for because I knew it wouldn’t last. My therapist told me if I’m open to it, one day I might find a woman I’m willing to risk heartache over. What if it’s you?”

The words…those words. I can’t handle them. My brain goes to all the worst places. He’s trying to control me. He’s using me. We’re not alike. I hold on to that one. I shake my head. “We’re too far apart.”

---