Page 48 of That Birthday in Barbados
I tip my head, concede the truth. “Type A, oldest child, not good at taking advice or orders from others. That’s me.”
He smiles. “Also the reasons you were able to build the company in the first place.”
“Double-edged sword, I guess.”
“Most things have one.”
“It was so exciting to think we had reached a point where others would want to heavily invest.I went in to work the morning the IPO was to be announced feeling on top of the world. The memory has gotten a little muddied by the fact that it was also the day my marriage fell apart.”
He looks a little shocked. “That sucks.”
“Is what it is,” I offer back.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like it’s no big deal.”
I shrug. “I try not to re-dig the hole on a regular basis.”
“Are they together? Your sister and your ex?”
I shake my head.
“Have you and your sister worked things out?”
I look out at the ocean, try to keep my expression neutral. “I can’t seem to go there.”
“And who could blame you? But maybe you need to. For you.”
I hang my gaze on the sun, now fully in charge of its sky again, and wait for the always present wave of bitterness to cascade up from the wound deep inside me. But it doesn’t come today. I don’t feel anything, actually, except a completely surprising wash of calm. Which brings with it, a single question. What if he’s right?
Chapter Nineteen
“How ridiculous and how strange to be surprisedat anything which happens in life.”
?Marcus Aurelius
Catherine
ANDERS HAS GONE into the kitchen to get us another bottle of water when a knock sounds at the door.
“Probably just a delivery,” he calls out. “Would you mind checking?”
“Sure.” I walk through the foyer to the door, pulling it open with the full expectation of seeing a guy in a brown uniform holding a package. But that’s not what I find. Instead, a beautiful young woman stands at the entrance.I stare at her for a moment, taking in her glossy long, dark hair and green eyes. She’s five-ten in flat sandals and short-shorts, her arms and legs lean and toned, her posture that of a runway model.
“Oh,” she says, her hand poised in mid-knock again. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I say.
She peers around me, obviously surprised to find me answering the door. “Is Anders here?”
“Ah, yes, he is,” I say, stepping back.
She stops me with, “That’s okay. I wanted to surprise him. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“Oh. Sure. And you are?” I can’t resist adding that, even as I realize it is none of my business who she is.
