Page 105 of The CEO I Hate

The flight was about an hour and a half, so by the time I wrapped up my call with Jake, the jet was landing at San Francisco International Airport. I disembarked, climbed into the car Carl had arranged for me, and made my way across the city to meet my mother at Dolce Vita, her favorite Italian place. She couldn’t get enough of their mushroom risotto and after the way I’d flubbed the anniversary dinner, I wanted to make it up to her.

I walked in, spotting her across the restaurant atourtable. The one the Lockharts always occupied. The owners of Dolce Vita had becomegood friends over the years and always made sure to have the table available when we wanted to dine in.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, walking up and pecking her on the cheek. She beamed up at me, seemingly in a good mood. Cathleen Lockhart looked younger than her years, her eyes bright blue, her hair still that strawberry blond from her youth, though now threaded through with gray.

When I was younger, I used to look into the mirror, wondering which features I’d inherited from the deadbeat dad who’d abandoned us. I used to hate thinking that any part of me belonged to that man.

Did I have his nose? His eyebrows? The square shape of his jaw? My brown hair and hazel eyes certainly hadn't come from her. I’d mostly outgrown that worry now, but I was still grateful for all the little ways in which I looked like my mother.

“How’s it going?”

“Good,” she said. I sat down, shed my suit jacket, and we ordered drinks. “Met with my adviser to discuss my dissertation research this morning.”

History wasn’t my jam, but it still impressed me that Mom had gone back to finish her PhD after all these years. Hard work clearly ran in our genes. “Everything okay?”

“He had some really positive things to say about my paper,” she said brightly. “I’m doing a round of revisions now.”

“That’s great. Glad things seem to be going well on that front.”

She sipped her water. “Oh, Connor tells me you’ve been busy shaking things up at work? Something about new policies.”

I nodded, clearing my throat. “There was an…incident recently.” I wasn’t about to speak about Mia’s experience without her approval, but in hindsight, it hadn’t taken me long to realize how poorly I’d handled that situation with her and Damien. I’d let my own fear get the better of me, worried that I’d failed to protect her and the rest of mystaff from that creep. And because my fears had taken over, I’d panicked. Instead of supporting her in that moment, I’d ended up pushing her feelings aside.

I couldn’t go back and undo the way I’d reacted, but I could damn well make sure the proper policies were in place to ensure nothing like that ever happened again at VeriTV Studios. “I’ve updated a bunch of our old harassment policies and implemented a series of new measures to hopefully improve the working experience at the studio.”

My mother’s eyes widened. “It’s wonderful to hear you’re taking that so seriously.”

“It was something I should have done a long time ago,” I admitted. And it was something I would be more aware of in the future. Along with my team, we’d overhauled the anti-harassment policies and implemented regular, mandatory training for all employees effective immediately, along with establishing confidential reporting mechanisms.

I never wanted anyone to feel like they couldn’t speak up—the way I’d made Mia feel.

I’d screwed up. I knew that. And I wasn’t about to let that happen twice. I wanted VeriTV to be a place where everyone felt safe when they came to work, knowing that we had zero tolerance for that kind of behavior.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want her praise. “I should have done better by my employees.” I should have done better by Mia. “And I’m going to make sure I do that in the future.”

“That’s all any of us can try to do. Be better than we were.”

I nodded, the words hitting hard as I steered the conversation back to her. “And how are other things going?” I asked gently.

“You cansaytherapy, Liam.” She smiled softly. “It’s not a bad word. And to answer your question, that’s also been going well. I’m feeling…settled.” She reached out and squeezed my hand.

I nodded. “You should know I still feel horrible about bailing on dinner the other night.”

“I know,” she insisted. “And it’s okay. I’m still standing. Still trucking along.”

It was nice to hear…but that didn’t mean I believed it. My default was to expect Mom to fall apart. That said, I had to admit, she looked great. “How’s your drawing class going?”

“You know, I’m not sure I’m an artist,” she laughed. “But I’ve enjoyed learning how terrible I really am. Tennis with the ladies has been wonderful though.”

The more she talked, the more it sounded like her turmoil on the night of the anniversary really had only been a hiccup. The fact that those kinds of things no longer derailed her entire life for weeks at a time…Well, it sounded like Mom had her stuff together more than I did.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked.

“What?”

“You’ve got that pinched look you get when you’re thinking too hard.”

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