37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Alex

Friday at 4:45pm. The meeting appeared on my calendar that morning, setting my nerves on edge.

Friday at 4:45 was firing time: the employee meets with the equity partners, Frank Hamilton and Fred Houghton, before security escorts them out.

I'd spent two weeks trying to reestablish a rhythm in San Francisco. I'd told Grace about how I used to run every morning before law school classes and she'd suggested I try again. So my first morning back, I'd set my alarm and cursed the dawn light, but when I wanted to snooze, I thought about her on her meditation cushion. I threw a pillow on the floor and sat on it, but nothing happened. So I pulled up their studio's website and streamed an audio meditation my sister recorded, wishing for a different voice.

Then I laced up my running shoes and stepped in the hallway … just as Victoria walked back into her apartment from her run. I did a short loop, nowhere near what I'd used to do, and was still winded. The next day, I'd set an earlier alarm and when I'd stepped in the hallway, Victoria was waiting.

We ran side-by-side, not a single word spoken. I could tell she was going slower than her usual pace but didn't mention it to save my pride. We took different routes every day to explore neighborhoods, and on every street, I looked for a yellow Victorian townhouse with gingerbread trim and wisteria. I didn't know what I'd do if I found it, but I couldn't stop looking.

I don't know if it was the running or the meditation, but I felt calmer … until I saw that meeting: Friday at 4:45 in the executive suites.

I figured when I left that I'd signed on for an extra year of hell. But that was before I saw the meeting with Fred and Frank at firing time. Shit.

At 4:22, I started packing up my office. I finished at 4:26. One box, halfway full. Surprising how little of me was in the room where I'd spent eight years. I could have at least had a plant, the cleaning people would have watered it. Mallory would tell me that the fresh oxygen would help my lungs.

Correction: She would say I'm such a blowhard that a plant using my excess carbon dioxide was environmentally responsible.

I couldn't believe how much I missed that snarky little brat.

With 12 minutes to go, I leaned in the door frame of an office where I'd logged as many hours as my own. "Are you gonna miss me when I get fired?"

Victoria had a wicked glimmer in her eye. "Dibs on your office."

"You always liked the view." I sank into the chair across from her desk.

"They're not going to fire you. You're the most profitable associate with the second most billable hours." Bitterness seeped into her words at the preferential treatment I'd always received. We both knew she'd accomplish more if she were in my (less pointy) shoes.

"So why schedule it now?"

"They're fucking with your head. We'll do the same when we're partners. They'll delay your offer as a slap on the wrist, then hand it over with fanfare eventually, because they inexplicably love you."

They inexplicably love me. She'd known me for a decade. We'd lived together, been to family events and industry conventions. Hell, she'd expected to marry me … yet even she couldn't explain how somebody could love me.

"But don't worry, when I make partner first, I'll put in a good word."

This had been our running joke for years. As hard as we worked, we knew that we'd advance from senior associate to partnership to equity partners. The firm would eventually be Clarke he'd torn it out and handed it over to the only person who he could trust. Then he'd fucked up and left it behind.

So that's who I had to be: Heartless.

I rose to my full commanding height, and flashed my arrogant smirk. Inside I was dying, but I would fake it. What choice did I have?

Grace

"So that's why I have to quit," I told Mallory.

As soon as Ruby agreed to live with me, I'd started foster parent training, told the social worker team, searched for new housing … and procrastinated the final task: quit teaching yoga. I couldn't work full time at the hospital plus nights and weekends at the studio and be responsible for Ruby.

This was the right move … but I didn't want to say goodbye to Mallory.

To soften the blow I'd made her vegan enchiladas, waited until after the Friday yoga class cleared out, and lit a scented candle in the studio lounge in hopes the sage scent would add a welcome warmth to the cold January night. All day, the weather hovered on the cusp of freezing rain, hail and snow, a delightful oddity that meteorologists call "wintry mix" to make it sound more pleasant than "slush freezes your toes and ice pelts your face."

I'd forced myself not to check the forecast in San Francisco. Instead, I sat with Mallory and recapped my conversations with Jean and Ruby .

"Holy shit, Grace," Mallory said, her blue eyes welling with tears as hail slammed against against the window. I tugged my Vermont hoodie tighter, as if it could protect me from the storm, and braced myself for her disappointment.

She flashed me a giant smile. "You're going to be a mom, this is incredible!"

Relief coursed through me, followed by confused dismay. "You're not mad I'm quitting?"

"Of course not! How could I be mad that you're finally getting what you've always wanted? Plus I always assumed you'd put a bun in my oven, and this way won't wreck my ladybits." She beamed as the front door downstairs rattled, likely caught in the wind.

"But we won't work together anymore, I thought —"

"You think that without the studio we won't hang out any more?" Mallory took my hand, and when my lip wobbled she said, "You're my best friend, Gracie. Nothing can change that."

I shook my head in disbelief. I wasn't her best friend. I would never be her best friend. "But Kate —"

"You and Kate are sisters to me, you know?" Then her mouth quirked into a soft smile. "If you're going to be Ruby's mom, that makes me an aunt. I'm gonna spoil the shit out of her. Ponies for everyone!"

She mimicked Oprah's hand gestures, yelling, ‘You get a pony, you get a pony!" then pulled me into an enthusiastic hug, and I sobbed in relief. The social workers had a similar reaction, offering character references and clothing hand-me-downs and neighborhood suggestions. I'd worried that people would judge a transgender woman becoming a single mom, but so far the response had been positive.

"But you don't have to quit, we can be flexible. Ruby can hang out with me while you teach, we can meet in your new house after her bedtime. Or you could work from home on the admin stuff."

My heart pounded and I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"I wonder what my parents will want to be called," Mallory said, dropping into one of her daydreams. "Mom will want something traditional like Grandma, except Jean is already Grandma. Oh god, I hope Dad picks Papa, not something awkward like Big Daddy … "

It was hard to focus over the pounding. Maybe that wasn't my heart. Was somebody at the front door? Who would be out in this storm?

We both sighed in annoyance at the racket. I said, "Maybe the class schedule box outside is empty, I'll run down refills and give one to whoever is there."

Mallory searched the kitchenette, swearing she'd stashed some champagne behind her Triscuits collection. I grabbed a stack of brochures and hopped down the stairs two at a time, joy adding to the bounce in my steps.

I wasn't losing Mallory.

I was her best friend.

I didn't need to quit.

Ruby would have an aunt.

From the bottom step, I looked through the glass window and froze.

A lean man paced in front of the door with his phone lifted to his ear. His hood blocked the sleet, but even seeing his shadow from behind, I recognized the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips.

As he turned, time twisted into the past. His pacing stopped as he took me in, scanning my face uncertainly, then stepping closer until his breath fogged the glass. He pushed down the hood to reveal a face I'd recognize anywhere, a face as familiar as my own.

Through the glass door, I read his lips as he said into his phone, "I found her."

Alex

The elevator rose too fast to the executive floor, where my future hung in the balance. Each step felt like walking to the gallows.

I pulled my cell phone from my suit jacket and scrolled through my messages with Nick. He was filming in Croatia now, so we'd texted earlier in the day.

Me

Today's the day. The moment of truth, whether I get the ??

Nick

Did you just use an emoji??

Me

My finger slipped.

Nick

Ok, Mallory. ????????

Me

Don't even joke about that. Just wish me luck.

Unless that isn't a thing you say.

I don't understand how you acting people talk.

Nick

As Aristotle said …

Me

If I did emojis, you'd get an eye roll.

Nick

"Excellence is never an accident. It is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, and intelligent execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives. Choice, not chance, determines your destiny."

Me

You fucking nerd.

Nick

You love me.

Me

You know I do.

Nick

Do you need an official Dominic Martin pep talk?

Me

No.

But I'd take one from Nick Clarke.

I listened again to the voice memo. My brother's ‘pep talk' voice sounded bolder, like when he was his stage persona, but with a playful edge.

"Listen up: You're Alexander Fucking Clarke. If they're moronic enough to fire you, then it's their loss, and you'll rise like a goddamn phoenix. And if they're smart enough to promote Victoria instead of you … well, can you blame them?" He chuckled, and I felt myself sile as he dropped his professional voice and sounded like my little brother again.

"Whatever happens, you're still the best man I know. Have fun storming the castle."

Grace

"I found champagne, get your sweet ass back upstairs!" Mallory yelled, but I barely heard her voice. The blood drained from my face as dizziness hit me and pressure rose in my chest. I reached for the stair railing to stay upright.

The glass door created a mirror image, reflecting my face over his.

"I can't believe you get to be a mom without giving up booze or getting cankles," Mallory's voice sounded cloudy. "You've found the perfect workaround."

He was almost me. Hazel eyes, full bottom lip, slender nose.

And yet, he was him. Unmistakably, undeniably him.

"Plus you get jewelry! I might consider having kids if it means …" After a brief pause, she chuckled. "Nah, I'll buy it for myself."

His wet hair fell over his forehead in a way I would have brushed back. His smooth beard covered his wider jaw in a way that mine had been patchy. His eyes yearned in a way that mine had always been guarded .

He wasn't my before picture; he was my other half.

Mallory's footsteps stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. Her tone of voice shifted from playful to concerned, echoing down the narrow stairwell. "Honey, if you can hear me, take a deep breath."

My lungs swelled as her footsteps vibrated down the stairs.

Then she was next to me where I was still frozen on the bottom step. Her hand provided a steadying touch on my elbow, then her gaze tracked mine and she gasped, "Holy shit, is that —"

The man outside lifted his hand, pressing his palm into the cold glass, coat sleeve dropping to reveal the tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

"Elijah," I breathed the half answer, half prayer.