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“If it works out? You mean, the deal’s not closed yet?”
“No. There are still a few contract details to hammer out.”
Dad harrumphed. “Ah, yes. I’d be glad to come,” he said gruffly. “Very glad.”
“Okay,” I said. “Good to know.”
“Good luck with those contract details,” he said. “I’ll be looking for that invitation, now. Don’t you disappoint me.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised.
“And whatever happens with your lady friend …” My father paused awkwardly. “Call me again sometime. Okay? It was good to hear from you.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” My voice felt thick. I coughed to clear it. “Good-bye, Dad.”
I hung up the phone and drank some tea to loosen the burning ache in my throat. It was stone cold, but I gulped it down anyway, and stared out my big windows at the impenetrable darkness outside. I was wide awake. Thrumming with an emotion I could not identify.
I was not going to bargain away my life in exchange for the fantasy of control. I didn’t want some faceless, agreeable, compatible whoever. I just wanted Nancy.
And if I had to compromise to get her, then compromise I would. If it killed me.
I thought of the ugly, posturing bullshit I’d said, before I left the hotel. She’d seen my worst self. Which meant I had a hell of a job ahead, convincing her to marry me now. But I was a tenacious bastard. So they all told me.
That had to be useful for something besides pissing people off.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nancy
I stared, unseeing, out the window of my apartment from my place on the futon. It was dark inside but for the faint city glow that sneaked through the window, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn on lights. It scared me now, to advertise my presence there. I should probably just sleep, but I was too tired to wrestle the couch down into a bed.
I should have been at the cathedral uptown, where Cantate Domino, my female medieval and Renaissance musical ensemble, was having their big New York concert debut. They were singing the works of Hildegarde Von Bingen. It was a beautiful program, and a very important gig for them. Their first established classical concert series. A big step forward. I should be there to support them.
But I couldn’t even get up. Let alone dress, comb my hair, put on my game face, get myself uptown, chat, smile, schmooze.
My ass was weighted down like I was made of lead.
The ensemble understood, of course. Everybody was extremely understanding these days after my near-death episode in the parking lot of the Amory Lodge. They were also treating me like blown glass after seeing me cut Peter and Enid loose.
That had shocked the bejesus out of everyone on my client list.
And Peter and Enid, oh God. They would not let up. My voicemail was full of pleading, wheedling messages. Surprise, surprise—they’d already alienated two new potential managers with those same egregious personality disorders that I’d spent years justifying and excusing.
But it was a no-brainer for me. I was done with that soul-sucking bullshit forever. Maybe it was childish and unprofessional to walk away. It certainly hadn’t been a great financial move.
I didn’t care. A person learned the lesson, with the requisite pain and suffering, and then she hung on to whatever she’d learned. She made it worthwhile.
At least that was the pep talk I kept trying to give myself.
The events in Boston had laid my pathetic emotional stratagems bare. I’d been scrambling for love all these years, and I only knew this because finally, I’d gotten some. Just a taste. Enough to know what it felt like.
I’d been better off not knowing.
I had earned no love from all my heroic efforts all these years. Love couldn’t be earned, or God knows I would have more of it.
Lucia had tried in so many ways to make me understand that, but no one could have protected me from myself. No wonder Lucia had tried to match me up with Liam. She’d wanted me to have a man I could lean on. A man with something significant to bring to the table.
The joke was on me. Liam was plenty solid. Like an outcropping of volcanic granite.