Page 44 of Dating the DILF
My cell phone is lying on the corner of my desk where I tossed it after my last message to Miles, and I snatch it up, preparing myself to give him the bad news, and already trying to figure out how I will make it up to Lulu. It will definitely involve multiple gifts and multitudes of cash.
Because that’s what people in my position do, right? We throw money at a problem and pray the people we love will forgive our absence, our lack of attention, ourfailings.
I have spent the last four years watching the men and women with careers I aspire to, repeating this cycle over and over again. It’s how I knew children couldn’t be in my future. I was determined I would never disappoint someone, casually disregarding them just as I had been over the years.
And, yet, here I am.
Sucking up every breath of defeat I feel, I start typing out an appropriately apologetic message to Miles, when I’m interrupted by a knock on my door.
Louis’ distinguished face peers around my door and he offers me a quick smile.
“Charlotte, can I have a minute?” He enters my office before I can respond and takes a seat, fiddling with his tie. I instantly feel underdressed in my black skinny jeans, pink sweater, and ballet flats.
In my defense, I didn’t expect to run into a partner on a Saturday.
“Charlotte, I’m going to get right to the point. We’re removing you as the lawyer for Preston Pharmaceuticals.”
It’s funny what runs through your mind at a time like this. The moment you see your future plans crumbling down around you. The first thing that comes to mind when I hear Louis’ assertion is thatFriendsquote.
“Isn’t that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic.”
Internally I am wailing, howling and weeping over the unfairness of it, because how is this even possible? I busted my ass to bring that company in to Harris & Erickson, and I have been on top of my game every step of the way.
Outwardly, I maintain my composure, not skipping a beat.
“May I ask why?” My voice remains impressively calm and I want to fist-bump myself, my pride is so immense.
He sighs, and for the first time, I see a modicum of discomfort. “Unfortunately, the head of the company is uncomfortable moving forward with you as their lawyer. Considering your recent publicity.” He shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “Charlotte, you have always been a credit to our firm. You’re shrewd and determined, and you put in the hard hours. Honestly, both Kendall and I thought you were on the partnership track, but these last couple of months we’ve noticed a switch in your priorities. Normally we wouldn’t comment on this, since the quality of your work has remained outstanding, but we can’t ignore this tabloid business. Several clients have expressed concern regarding your commitment and possibly your ethics after reading certain things.” I open my mouth to interrupt him, outraged by the suggestion that my ethics are anything less than stellar, but he cuts me off. “Please don’t misunderstand.Weare not questioning any of these things. However, having one of our attorneys presented in this negative light, well, it’s not good for the firm and we need to consider our reputation above all else. I know you will understand.”
“Of course,” I answer soberly, waiting for him to drop the axe. I’m surprised when he simply stands and starts heading for my door.
“Excellent. Consider what I’ve said carefully, and I hope you make the right decision.”
He’s gone before the implication of his words fully hits me. When it does, I slump back in my seat.
By ending things with Miles, I can set my world right again. I’ll be demonstrating my commitment to the firm and there will be no reason for clients to resist working with me. My job will be secure and my written-in-stone plan for career progression will be right back on track.
Miles and Lulu will be a tiny blip on my trajectory and one that could be overcome with hard work and sacrifice.
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and tears prick my eyes.
The answer is obvious, so, ignoring the bile rising in my throat, I gather my things and head to Miles.
The drive only takes me twenty-five minutes, but during that time my resolution only strengthens. I know I’m doing the right thing.
I pull up to Miles’ house as a group of people are leaving. Children clutching balloons and goodie bags in their sticky hands, bouncing around and giddy on a sugar high.
For a brief moment, I’m almost glad I missed the party. Almost, but not quite. Two-month-ago-me is wondering what the hell happened. Current-me pities her.
I cut the engine and hop out of the car, nausea and regret still punishing my gut over the choice I have been forced to make today, but when I glimpse Miles standing at his front door watching me, the inevitability of this soothes me.
There really isnoother choice.
His eyes follow me, the weight of them carrying me forward, and when I find myself standing toe to toe with him, I indulge myself, and sink into his arms.
“I’m sorry.”
He chuckles against my hair, his hands threading through the loose waves and I feel his shoulders shake gently.
