Page 67 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘No.’
I took a deep breath, willing my years of mindfulness training to kick in. ‘So, I stuffed up the wedding form, the one we need toget legally married,’ I confessed into my handset far too quickly, my words running into each other. I’d wanted to achieve a tone that made it clear that while I was aware of the seriousness of my mistake, I absolutely had everything under control. Instead, I knew I sounded both guilty and manic.
‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘What happened?’
I swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t sign it. I just... missed it,’ I said. ‘There’s a way to fix it. We need to go through an exemption process. It might... it probably will... be okay.’ I tried to sound as upbeat as I could, but I knew it wasn’t the most convincing performance. I imagined him in the passenger seat of one of his groomsmen’s cars, absorbing the news.
‘I’m really, really sorry,’ I added.
‘It was a mistake. They happen,’ Matt said quickly. ‘We’ve fixed everything else. We’ll fix this.’
‘Yeah, exactly,’ I said, and exhaled. It was the same thing he’d said when we’d found out there was a nationwide shortage of roses and then when our videographer cancelled on us because she’d gone viral on TikTok and was throwing herself into full-time content creation. ‘I’ve prepared the form. It just needs your signature when you get home.’
Matt didn’t reply.
‘Hello. Are you still there?’
There was no reply. He was probably on a highway with patchy reception. Had we been cut off?
‘Hello! Matt?’ I tried one more time.
‘Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. That’s what I was calling about,’ Matt said. ‘I just checked my email, and I have a meeting first thing in Sydney tomorrow. I think I’ll need to be there for a few days. I’ll have to get the last flight out tonight to make it in time. So, I’ll need to ask the guys to drop me straight to the airport – I won’t have time to come home.’
All I wanted was to fall into Matt’s arms, to inhale all the good summery things he’d smell of after a day of cricket and swimming at the beach – sun, salty air, sunscreen, fresh grass. Except right then I wasn’t in a position to get upset or be anything but supportive – I’d just thrown a grenade at our wedding plans.
‘Yeah, okay,’ I said. ‘I hope you can get some rest on the flight. I’ll email you the form to sign?’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I better go.’
‘Love you,’ I said, but the call had already ended.
‘The CEO decided to accept our recommendation,’ Miranda said. It was Monday morning, the ATG executive team had just met, and Miranda had pulled me into her office straight after the meeting.
So ATG had decided to shelve Alex’s work. His tool would never be used in hospitals and clinics. Patients, with hidden but diagnosable heart conditions, would be left untreated.
‘The good news is that Alex Lawson is going to be offered an extremely generous salary to stay on at ATG for the next few years.’
‘I assume they’re not planning to tell him about their plans for his work before he signs his new contract?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice level and neutral.
‘There’s no legal requirement for them to disclose commercially sensitive information during contract negotiations,’ Miranda said, a slight edge to her voice. ‘And there’s excellent news,’ she barrelled on, before I could make a rebuttal. ‘ATG were so impressed with our frank advice that they’ve given us a new, much more substantial case. They wantus to do a review of all the companies they’re considering buying in the context of their overall strategy.’
I tried to look thrilled. And normally I would have been. To gain an interesting piece of work from an enormous client was a win. I felt numb.
‘I want to keep the same team on this new project. Are you going to be able to lead this new case?’ Miranda asked me with a meaningful stare. I picked up the subtext: was I able to do my all for this company given my relationship with Alex and the outcome of our advice?
Could I? My job checklist had been the true north on my career compass, for almost a decade now:
1.Work with smart people on interesting problems.
2.Earn enough money to eat, etc.
3.Help people.
To date, I’d felt confident that all my criteria remained checked. Of course I helped people. Some of my colleagues even described our job as being like doctors for businesses. People gave us their problems and I worked with a team to solve them. I’d done a pro bono secondment at an organisation that ran the biggest food bank in the country. I did charity fun runs every year in a T-shirt emblazoned with the Stern & Co logo.
But while I knew that I’d helped ATG to make a decision to move their company forwards, right then I was struggling tofeelthat. Right then, I just felt like I was working for a company that was about to throw away groundbreaking research that could actually help people. That could have saved Alex’s mum.
I checked my phone in my lap. There were no new messages. I felt a pang of worry in the pit of my stomach. Matt hadn’t called that morning and he hadn’t messaged me the night beforeeither. He usually did when he travelled, even if it was just to say he’d landed and got to the hotel safely, good night and that he loved me.
