Page 100 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
The only thing I knew right now was how grateful I was that I hadn’t yet asked her to be my girlfriend. I at least had the foresight to save myself the heartbreak.
“She’s no different from Cassidy,” I whispered. “I thought she was different. I really did. But here I am, disappointed again.”
For one of the first times in my life, my mother was at a loss for words.
“How did you find Dad? How did you do it?”
She sighed as she squeezed my hand between both of hers. “He came into my life when I least expected it, but when I needed him the most.”
“How did you know he was the one?”
My mother smiled as she thought about my father. “I knew he was the one the minute he told my father to fuck off.”
Hearing my mother swear took me completely by surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“My father attempted to bribe your father when we first started dating. He knew your father would not walk away from me easily. So, he tried to bribe him with money to break up with me. Your father told him tofuck off. That was the start of their unlikely friendship, I think.”
There were few people in life that had gotten away with saying something like that to my mother’s father. The man had climbed the ranks of Wall Street and died one of the most powerful men in finance.
My phone buzzed again, Hallie’s name popping up.
“Your father and I had to fight through many differences and obstacles to make our relationship work. But it was all worth it in the end.”
“I’m sorry this didn’t work out for the restaurant,” I told her.
She shrugged. “She didn’t name the pizzeria. No harm done.”
When my phone went off for the third time, my mother gave me a sad smile. “I think you need to pick up and hear her out, James.”
“Not right now,” I told her. “I need some time.”
My mother gave my hand a pat. “Let’s go eat and celebrate having each other. We will figure something else out for the restaurant.”
Grief filled my chest, wrapping around my ribcage, as I mourned losing the Hallie Woods I thought I knew.
35
Hallie
Wednesday morning came and went without my newest “Love on Wall Street” article hitting theSophisticatewebsite. Anthea emailed me, letting me know it would be up this evening. The celebrity wedding the magazine covered earlier in the week had caused a backlog in her editing schedule. The wedding, I realized, had occurred between two C-List actors and had been given barely a two-page spread in the magazine. But I didn’t really think Anthea delaying my article for a two-page mid-level spread was strange until Wednesday evening, when the next installment was published.
“Do you want a glass of wine?” Roxie asked from the kitchen. “It’ll cover the burnt taste of the chicken.”
“Sure,” I replied as I refreshedSophisticate’s website for the tenth time in the last minute.
Roxie set a glass of wine and a dinner plate down in front of me. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t order out.”
“We’ve ordered out every day this week. I can’t even remember the last time we used our oven. I’m pretty sure your purses are still in there for storage.”
“We have limited closet space,” Roxie reminded me. “Of course, I’m going to use what little storage we have.”
“That’s not the purpose of an oven, Rox.”
Roxie cut a piece of chicken and brought it up to her nose for a sniff before she gingerly took a bite out of it. “Well, it’s definitely not being used to cook good food. Because what is this?”
“I forgot to set a timer,” I told her, explaining the charred poultry on our plates. “I was a little distracted.”
“Anthea said the article would be up this evening, right?” Roxie asked as she switched to the salad that she’d prepared.
