Page 67 of Finding You
“I am so thrilled for you. That sounds like just what you need. Take all the time for yourself that you can. You deserve it.”
I was taken aback by her comments. Donna was a kind, loyal person, but she was a professional to the core. She had worked at Burns & Glenn for over twenty years and knew what was expected of me. I guess I never stopped to think that maybe my burnout was visible to others. That maybe I was in worse shape than I thought?
“Can you do me one favor, sweetie?”
“Of course, Donna, anything.”
“I want you to get the most beautiful gown you can find. Show up to that stupid party and look like a million bucks. Shove it in the faces of these self-important jerks who treated you badly.”
My heart swelled. I didn’t deserve her. “Oh, I will, Donna. Thank you for everything you do.”
“And I want you to text me a photo of you and your handsome date.”
“Will do.”
* * *
I immediately pulled up her profile on LinkedIn. Monica Walsh née Sweeting had worked at Burns & Glenn for five years following her graduation from law school. She left abruptly in January, four years ago. She was now in private practice at a small firm in upstate New York. But there was a gap in her résumé. Over a year with nothing. That was strange. Usually associates went on to prestigious in-house counsel or government positions after leaving Burns & Glenn.
Looking at her professional headshot, I wanted to give her a hug. I had no idea what had happened to her, but if it involved Max Shapiro then it couldn’t have been good. I couldn’t help but think how easy it was for him to prey on unsuspecting associates and lie to them. The environment of the firm—the constant paranoia and fear that you weren’t good enough—made us sitting ducks. Looking back, he exploited my ambition, my desire to be the best, and my low self-esteem. We all wanted to get ahead, we didn’t want to be left behind, and God forbid, fired. Burns & Glenn was the top of the profession, and there was a long way to fall if you couldn’t keep up.
I wanted to reach out. To ask her what happened and offer my support. But that was awkward and weird. I debated for almost thirty minutes before sending her a direct message on LinkedIn.
Hello Monica. You may not remember me. I was the M&A associate who was part of your team on the PriCom deal a few years back. I really enjoyed working with you and wanted to connect regarding your career progression. I recently left Burns & Glenn and am weighing my options. I hope you are well.
I gave her my cell and my email address so that if she wanted to get in touch with me, she could. And if she didn’t? Then I would just keep plugging along and try to get my job back.
I was feeling things. Real, painful, challenging things.
Work left me so busy I was just numb for years. I didn’t have to think about things or feel things. Or deal with things. Productivity came before all else so I could just numb out in the pursuit of partnership. But now, I had to actually confront things. Things about myself and my family and my choices. And it sucked.
My stomach was churning. I felt angry and sad and frustrated. I was flooded with rage. I was angry at my parents, angry at myself, at the firm, at everything and everyone who had ever done me wrong.
But then my thoughts traveled to one person who had never done wrong by me. The person who only built me up and had never torn me down. The person who would have my back no matter what. He didn’t care how many billable hours I’d logged or which awards I had won. He liked me for me.
I grabbed my phone and reread some of his dirty texts from this afternoon. And then I knew what I had to do.
25
ASTRID
I threwmy shoes on and headed across the street to Declan’s house. I was wearing sweats, and my hair was back in a ponytail. I didn’t even care. I was a woman on a mission.
I had never considered myself a sexual person. On the contrary, I didn’t usually understand why people were so obsessed with sex. I was no virgin, but I was not exactly experienced either. I’d had sex with a handful of boyfriends and it had been fine, or at least I thought it had been fine.
Turns out I had no idea what I was talking about.
Sex with Declan fried my synapses and reduced me to a quivering pile of hormones. Every time he touched me, I was consumed by my desire for him. I didn’t get bored, think about my to-do list or anything else for that matter, because I was too busy screaming and moaning. Generally, my litmus test for good sex had always been whether or not I had an orgasm. If so, then it went in the “good” category. If I didn’t, or the guy didn’t even try, then it was in the “bad” category. I assumed if we both came it was a successful encounter. How sad I was. No wonder I didn’t care about sex. I truly had no idea what I was missing.
I knocked on the door, and he opened right away. I looked up at him. He looked tired after a long day at work, but still oh so sexy.
“Are you okay?”
I pushed my way into his house and turned to him. I wanted him. I wanted him to distract me with his body. I wanted to get away from my old life and all the law firm bullshit. I knew I was safe in Declan’s bed.
He walked back to the kitchen where he was putting away groceries. Ginger wandered over, and I gave her a scratch behind the ear.
My heart was pounding. I wanted to tell him. But what? I had no idea what I was feeling at the moment. I was angry and I was horny, but everything else? Total confusion. I had feelings. Lots of feelings. I wasn’t one of those women who could cope with feelings. They confused me and distracted me from getting things done.
