Chapter 3

Igot up and made myself coffee. My usual habit would be to go upstairs to our rooftop terrace to enjoy a little sunshine while browsing through my work email. But I no longer had a work email. It was going to be a change, but it needed to happen. There was no way I could continue working for my father who had zero respect for me.

I carried my coffee upstairs, and instead of grabbing my laptop or phone, I just sat and closed my eyes, relishing the feeling of freedom that washed over me. No more emails from my father demanding my attention, no more belittling remarks disguised as constructive criticism. It was a new chapter in my life, and I was determined to make the most of it.

"Mom!" Sloane hollered up the stairs. "I'm leaving!"

I got to my feet and headed downstairs. Sloane was eating a Pop Tart while staring at her phone. "What time will you be home?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Sloane…"

"Like six. If I'm going to be later, I'll text. We might go to a movie."

"Turn on the app," I said.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Mom, seriously?"

"I'm giving you freedom, but it's a big city and I need to know where you are," I reminded her. "It's not like I'm going to be tracking you all day. Just in case."

"I'm fourteen."

I nodded. "Exactly. You're fourteen, not eighteen. I need to know where you are. If you don't like it, I'd be happy to hire a nanny to tag along with you and your friends. I'm sure that won't be humiliating at all."

"You wouldn't." She narrowed her eyes at me.

"App or babysitter, your choice."

She groaned and rolled her eyes hard enough I was sure she was looking at the back of her skull. But she activated the tracking app on her phone, even though it seemed to cause her physical pain to do so. Then she headed out the door with a less than enthusiastic goodbye.

Parenthood was a delicate balance between giving your child independence and keeping them safe, a tightrope walk that I often felt ill-equipped to navigate. But I was determined to raise Sloane to be strong, independent, and most importantly, safe in a world that could be cruel and unforgiving.

No sooner had Sloane disappeared than I heard the buzzer.

"It's me," Holly, my best friend since college, said.

I buzzed her up.

She smiled as she breezed into the apartment. "Hi."

We had been college roommates, and the friendship never waned. We were both from wealthy families and understood some of the challenges that came along with coming from that life. We rarely got to see each other because we both worked in high-powered jobs.

Well, only one of us still did.

"I'm so ready for shopping!" she exclaimed. "I feel like it's been too long."

I nodded and gave her a quick hug. "It has been."

"What the hell happened?" she asked, getting right to the point. "Why are we shopping in the middle of the day?"

"I quit. Now, I'm going to interview for a new job, and I want the right outfit."

"Izzy, come on," she chided. "You and I both know you have a closet bigger than most apartments in the city."

I laughed because it was true. "This outfit has to be special. It can't be anything I wore at my father's company. This has to be new. Exciting. Professional but sexy."

"Why?" she asked. "Are you planning to seduce your way into a job? Wait, are you applying to be a stripper?"

"No, of course not. And if I was, I would need less clothes, not more." I bit my lip before deciding to tell her what I was doing. "The interview is with Graham Russell. I'm interviewing to be his executive assistant."

"No, you aren't!"

"I am," I said, nodding.

"You're not an assistant," she corrected. "You're a boss bitch like me."

"But I could be."

She shrugged. "Sure, you could be lots of things. So why this job? Is this a rebellious thing against your father? You're going to make him sad by living like a poor person?"

"Nope, nothing like that, although it actually would upset him. I'm just done with my father's bullshit there. I'm ready for something new. When I was browsing through the available jobs, I came across the assistant position. I thought it would be funny to apply. And then I got the interview."

"So, you're really going to work for your high school sweetheart?" she teased, her voice laced with amusement. "I never took you for the nostalgic type."

"I haven't gotten the job yet." I shrugged. "But why not?" I replied, my tone casual but tinged with a hint of defiance. "After the way my father treated me, I might as well do something for myself for a change."

Holly's expression softened. "I'm sorry. I know how much this means to you, how much you've sacrificed."

Holly knew the pain and longing that lurked beneath the surface. She had been there for me through the hardest moments of my life, had seen me at my lowest and had never once judged me for it. Being a single mom in college had been difficult, but she helped me with Sloane. Holly was essentially an aunt to Sloane and a sister to me.

"When I saw Graham's name, I don't know, something clicked. I have to see him. I want to see if he remembers me."

"What do you think will happen when he sees you?" she asked. "Better yet, what do you hope will happen?"

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "I feel like I'll know what I want once I see him again."

"You know I love you, but I don't think it's a good idea to open that box of pain," she said quietly. "You went through hell after he left."

"He didn't know, so it wasn't like he purposely did it," I reminded her. "It was my father who put me through hell. He made me feel like crap. Since then, I busted my ass to prove to him that, despite being a single mother at the ripe age of eighteen, I was worthy. He seemed like he accepted things, but after my mother died, he changed. I don't think working for him helped our relationship. Leaving the company is a good thing. If nothing else, I know that for sure."

"Enough of this," Holly declared. "Let's go shopping! We'll find you the perfect outfit to knock the wind out of Graham's sails. He's going to see you and regret every minute he was away from you."

I laughed as I grabbed my purse. "I don't know about that. I just want to see him."

"Are you going to tell him about Sloane?"

I sighed and shook my head. "No. I mean, not during the interview."

Michael was waiting to drive us to Lexington Avenue. There, we would be unleashed to shop until we dropped.

"I want to look professional," I said. "But I also want to look the best I've ever looked."

"You want to show him what he missed out on. I get it."

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as my heart raced at the idea of seeing him again. "Maybe," I admitted, unable to suppress the surge of longing that pulsed through me at the thought of seeing him again. "But who knows? Maybe he won't even recognize me."

I couldn't deny the flicker of hope that burned within me—the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would see me in a new light, see the woman I had become and realize what he had let slip through his fingers all those years ago. I knew at eighteen I was young and immature. Having a baby had a way of making a person grow up in a hurry.

"We'll be a while," I told Michael.

"I'll park," he replied.

Holly and I went into the first designer store. We meandered around, looking at dresses, each more stunning than the last, but none of them were right for an interview. This wasn't a black-tie gala. I still had to look professional—without looking like I was trying too hard.

We ultimately found our way to a section with more appropriate clothing, sleek tailored suits with either pants or skirts. The pieces exuded confidence and sophistication. As I perused the options, I didn't know what I was looking for exactly, but I was hoping I would know it when I saw it.

"What about a pantsuit?" Holly asked. "This will make your ass look great."

I looked at the pantsuit and thought about it. "I like it, but I have a lot of those in my closet. I need a skirt. Something tight and sexy."

She nodded. "I get where you're going. Something that screams hot corporate type. He's going to wonder what you're wearing underneath."

I flashed a smile. "Exactly."

Then, I found it. Taking it right into the dressing room, I changed into it. The stylish black fabric hugged my curves in all the right places. The black pencil skirt and cropped jacket were perfect. I stepped out to show Holly, and her eyes widened in approval.

"Damn, girl." She whistled. "You are going to break some hearts in that!"

I turned in front of the mirror, feeling a surge of confidence. I imagined Graham's reaction to seeing me in this outfit. The image reflecting back at me was a far cry from the teenage girl he used to know. I was a strong woman ready to take on whatever challenges came my way.

"I think this is it," I said. "It's not too much but it shows just a hint of cleavage."

"It's perfect," she agreed. "I'd fuck you in that outfit, and I'm not even into girls."

I giggled at her ridiculous compliment, but it was certainly a confidence booster. I would need all the courage I could find to face Graham again.

I bought the outfit along with a few other things. We browsed a few more stores, both walking away with a lot more than we needed. After dropping the bags in the car with Michael, Holly and I went to lunch.

We ordered mimosas and settled in.

"Okay, spill," Holly said.

"Spill what?" I asked.

"What's going on in your head? Is this about getting back at him, or do you secretly hope it's about getting back with him?" She slurped her drink, looked eager for my answer.

I hesitated, torn between conflicting emotions. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about both those options. But who even knows what he's like now? We're both completely different people, living completely different lives. He's probably married. But if we could capture even half of what I thought we felt then, it might be worth it, wouldn't it?"

Holly shook her head. "Only you can decide that."

I sat there, sipping on my mimosa. Was it really worth it to reopen old wounds, to stir up the past with Graham? Could we truly recapture whatever fleeting connection we had shared all those years ago? A part of me longed for closure, and another part of me wanted so much more than to just put a bow on our past.

"I understand you want to ask him a lot of questions," Holly said. "Me too. I'd like to give him a little piece of my mind."

I sighed. "I would like to know why he ran away without even saying goodbye. It felt unnecessarily cruel."

"He was a twenty-year-old college kid," she said. "Most men are idiots when it comes to relationships, and they're even worse when they're twenty."

"I know," I said. "I seriously doubt he'll even remember me."

"And what if he does?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Don't be surprised if nothing is the same after this interview," she warned. "It's like Pandora's Box."

"You're right," I conceded, swirling the last of my mimosa in the glass, looking at the tiny bubbles rising to the surface. "But it's a box I feel I need to open."

"So, when is this fateful meeting?" she asked, a gleam of anticipation lighting up her eyes.

"Monday," I replied. "At his office."

"You sure know how to make life interesting, don't you? Of all the jobs and all the bosses in the world, you choose this." She raised her drink. "You're an absolute legend."

I laughed weakly, not fully sharing her enthusiasm. The anxiety was creeping up again. "It's a reunion that has to happen eventually," I said. "This seems like a good opportunity."

"Does Sloane ever ask about her father?"

I shook my head. "Not really. She did when she was younger. She's cool with things now, but I have a feeling that will change. And when she has her own kids one day, she's probably going to want to know more about her heritage."

Holly wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I don't envy you for that conversation."

"She goes back and forth between wanting to know and not caring," I said.

"It's a delicate balance," Holly agreed. "But you're doing the right thing by confronting it, even if you're coming at it sideways. You owe it to yourself and to Sloane to make contact again, whatever that may entail."

I laughed. "He's not an alien. I'm not making contact. I just want to see what kind of man he turned out to be."