Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

SPENCER

H er challenge pissed me off. Mostly because she was right. But I wasn't going to acknowledge that.

I turned away from her, feeling the weight of her words pressing down on me. It was easier to be angry than to face the truth she had laid bare. The truth was I was scared. I was scared of failing, scared of losing control, scared of being vulnerable. I kept the walls up high around me. They were supposed to keep me from feeling anything.

And I wasn't about to break them down now.

Instead of being soft and admitting she might be right, I pushed back tenfold and doubled down. "You sure have a funny way of repaying the favor for me bringing you into the company," I snapped.

Marlow shocked me by laughing. "Favor?" she asked, still chuckling. "I did you the favor, buddy. Remember you're the one that chased me . I told you no more than once. But if you want to talk favors, fine. I'll do you one more. I quit."

She turned to march out of the conference room, but I stopped her, catching her wrist. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to make myself feel better, but the only word that came out was, "Don't."

She searched my eyes. "Give me one good reason to stay."

Shit . What was I going to say? How was I going to convince her not to walk out on me?

"Because I'm asking," I said quietly.

She paused, not saying anything for several seconds. The room felt like it was going to choke the life out of me.

"And you're quitting too," she said, pointing out the obvious. "What reason do I have to stay if you're gone?"

Her statement hit me hard in the gut. She'd stay for me? Why? Didn't she hate me by now? I had done nothing to deserve her. I had been downright awful to her. She must have seen the war raging inside me. I saw the look in her eyes. It was the look of someone who cared about me. Her expression softened. I didn't see pity, but something more. Something I couldn't quite put a name to.

She reached out and put a hand on my chest. Her touch was gentle, warm, and full of care. In an instant, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I imagined it was like a scared animal finally being met with kindness and understanding. I felt a stillness in me that I had not felt in a very long time.

"Let go, Spencer," she said softly, her voice washing over me. "Drop the defensive position. Relax. We're on the same team. I want what's best for you. I'm not your enemy. I am your friend. You can trust me."

I wanted the same for her, and today had made one thing exponentially clear: the best for her was not me. I took a deep breath and forced the words out. "I'm sorry."

She smiled. "For what?"

"You're fired."

I had dropped a bomb. All of the oxygen was sucked out of the room in that second. Her mouth opened and then closed like a fish. Before she could start talking, I knew I had to get out what I needed to say.

"Because you deserve better," I blurted out. "You are better, Marlow. I don't want to hold you back." The words felt like knives in my throat, but they were true. I had to get them out. The pain now was better than the pain that would happen later. A swift cut was better than a thousand. After the last couple of weeks, I knew things would only get worse.

Her eyes widened in incredulity, her nostrils flaring. "What? Why?!"

"Because you deserve better," I repeated, more firmly this time. "I don't want to hold you back."

She looked like she wanted to throttle me. I didn't blame her. I was a mess, jumping from one decision to another. I wasn't making a lot of sense, even to myself. This whole idea to bring her on board was doomed from the beginning. It was stupid and I wished I would have never done it.

"Spencer, you need to reconsider," she said. "You're jumping without thinking. I don't know what is going on in that head of yours, but you are not thinking clearly."

My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Marlow's words cut through the fog, but I couldn't bring myself to face the truth. Instead, I let my anger take over, a familiar shield against vulnerability. "I've made up my mind," I stated firmly, though doubt lingered in the depths of my heart. "It's for the best."

Marlow's eyes bored into mine, searching for any hint of hesitation. Her hand fell from my chest. She took a step back, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in her expression. "If that's truly what you believe, then I won't stop you," she said softly.

"It is." I nodded firmly. "Trust me, it's for the best."

"I don't think you know what's for the best," she replied. "I don't think you have a clue about what you're doing. You're just flying by the seat of your pants and making rash decisions."

She stepped back, her hand resting on the smooth table. I looked around the familiar conference room. The big mahogany table that was shined to the point it almost looked like a mirror with all of the plush leather chairs pushed up against it. Framed artwork hung evenly spaced on two walls. The large windows let in natural light, showing the view of the city skyline, but today, the heavy curtains were drawn, plunging the room into the bright light from the overhead fixtures. I remembered setting up this room, picking the chairs and the artwork. We had wanted to make sure we presented an air of luxury and professionalism to our clients.

The faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, a staple in every meeting. I picked up Marlow's perfume, which was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time. This place, with the normal hum of the office happening just outside the door, had been my second home for years. But now, it felt like a prison.

"I don't want to stop halfway through with my current project," she said firmly. Gone was the hurt and anger. She was the consummate professional, looking at me with those eyes that always made me feel like she was staring past the fa?ade I wore.

"Someone else can handle it," I replied.

"No, they can't," she said. "It's my project. Joshua will follow me if I leave. You know that."

"He's already signed a contract," I reminded her.

"I can buy him out," Marlow said, her voice tinged with determination. "But I won't leave until this project is completed. You know I can't abandon it now."

I clenched my fists, torn between my need to push her away and the realization that I depended on her more than I cared to admit. Marlow was right. She was irreplaceable. The weight of my impulsive decision bore down on me, suffocating me with regret.

"Just talk to me, Spencer. Let's figure this out. I want to see this project through with Joshua. I don't take on a client and then leave them hanging. It will look bad for all of us. Your company will wear a black mark. Even if you do decide to quit, this is still your company. Do you want to ruin the stellar reputation?"

Her words cut through my haze of frustration and anger. She was right. The company would always have some association with me. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. Marlow's logic was undeniable. How had I let my own insecurities and indecision blind me to the bigger picture? Slowly, I walked over to her, the distance between us feeling like a hundred miles instead of a foot.

"You're right," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I backed down and rescinded the firing. "Alright, stay. Please."

Marlow looked broken. "You had me worried there for a moment," Marlow said, her voice barely concealing the relief flooding through her. She straightened up, a glimmer of her usual composed self returning. "I'm glad you came to your senses."

I nodded, and the weight of my impulsive decision lifted from my shoulders. She was doing her best to look brave, but I could see the hurt I caused still lingering. I hated when she wiped away the tears that silently slid down her face. "I need to go," she murmured.

I watched as she hurried out the door. Graham, Derrick and Sebastian were all waiting outside the door. I looked around and saw the angry faces of my friends glaring in at me through the open door. They turned and walked away.

Why did I have to be such a fuck-up these days?

I sank into one of the plush leather chairs. The silence in the conference room was suffocating, echoing the weight of my own doubts and mistakes. The faint sound of Marlow's footsteps fading away only amplified the emptiness that settled around me. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, burying my face in my hands.

Regret clawed at me. It was a relentless reminder of the consequences of my impulsive actions. How had I let it come to this? Something needed to change. Me leaving the company was the best choice for everyone. I knew I could make it on my own. I had a hand in building this company. It wasn't like I couldn't do it again. Marlow was right. The company bore my name. I had a responsibility to uphold its reputation, just as she did with every project she took on. I couldn't let my pride and rash decisions destroy what we had all worked so hard to build.

With a determined sigh, I stood up from the chair and walked over to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains to let in the natural light that had been shut out. The city stretched out below me. I could see Central Park in the distance with the bright orange and red leaves contrasting against the steel and glass of the surrounding skyscrapers. The view had always been a source of inspiration for me, a reminder that no matter how overwhelming things may seem, there was always a bigger picture to consider. I stood in this very spot so many times. When I stood here from my perch, it made me feel like I had reached the pinnacle of success. All of my success had isolated me.

The buildings that once symbolized achievement now seemed like cold, unfeeling structures closing in around me. I adjusted my field of vision and found myself looking at my own reflection staring back at me from the glass. The man looking back seemed tired, worn down by life and ambition. How had I strayed so far from the person I once wanted to be?

I turned away from the window and walked out of the conference room. Once again, I was faced with stares. People were afraid of me. They thought I was going to lose my shit and go on some rampage.

"Can I get you anything?" Janet asked nervously.

"Scotch? Whiskey?"

She frowned. "Seriously?"

"I need a minute, Janet," I said, my voice low. "But thank you for caring."

I walked past her and into my office. Once inside, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. The familiar scent of leather and mahogany surrounded me, offering a sliver of comfort in the chaos that was my mind. How had everything gotten so bad? Somewhere things had gone off the rails.