Page 42 of How Freaking Romantic

The restaurant is in Midtown, just off Seventh Avenue, in an office building that I’m sure thousands of people walk by every day and never notice.

The tinted windows hide the interior, while the steel-and-glass exterior looks like every other skyscraper in Midtown.

That’s what this part of town was designed for, I suppose.

A race upward rather than attention to the world below.

I let out a nervous breath as I walk through the revolving door.

The huge space of the restaurant opens before me, a sea of creams and golds crowned by a huge crystal chandelier.

Marcie’s assistant picked this place, and I can see why.

The dining room is filled with the same type of people who had been at the bar association event just a couple of months ago: men and women in suits who all appear more interested in how they look than what their companions are saying.

I’m early, but the hostess has my name and shows me to a table near the windows. I sit down and try to calm my pulse, reviewing the script in my head that I had fumbled together on the train ride here.

Thank you so much for this opportunity, but I have to be honest about the circumstances of —

“Bea.”

I look up to see Marcie approaching, a smile on her face as she confidently walks by the other tables until she reaches ours. She leans down and gives me a kiss on each cheek. “So good to see you again.”

“You, too,” I say, and I mean it. There’s nothing fake about her smile or subdued about her vibrant red suit. She gives off the impression that she’s entirely herself, a woman who does exactly what she wants, when she wants to do it. Which only makes this entire thing so much harder.

The waiter comes by and Marcie orders a drink, then sighs and leans back in her chair. “I feel like I need to apologize for the restaurant.”

I look around at the towering ceilings, the white tablecloths, the linen-upholstered chairs. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s pretentious,” she replies. “Every lawyer within a ten-block radius comes here for lunch because they think all this impresses people. Unfortunately, it’s also the only restaurant across the street from my office, so convenience wins out.”

I try to smile. It feels like a grimace.

“I’m glad you were able to meet today,” she continues, still smiling, but her gaze is astute. As if she’s sizing me up. “We just had a meeting about some staffing opportunities, and I thought of you.”

My mouth goes dry. “That’s… incredibly flattering.”

She laughs. “Not really. A lot of grunt work, to be honest. And the position would be contingent on you passing the bar. But in the meantime, we have a big class action case coming up, and it’s going to require a lot of research into individual states’ medical malpractice statutes.

Considering your background, it could be a good fit.

” She must notice how my eyes light up, because her smile grows.

“We’d have to talk a bit more, of course.

I’d need information about what you’ve been doing at school.

But I’d like to start that conversation if you’re interested. ”

“I am,” I say, because yes, this is exactly the type of thing I’m interested in. This is what I’ve worked so hard for, what I’ve been dreaming of. That’s why my chest hurts as I add, “But…”

One eyebrow cocks up her forehead. “But?”

“I feel like I should be honest with you about this situation.”

She brings her fingers to her chin, waiting for me to continue.

I take a deep breath. “Nathan and I were… we were together. Or, at least, we almost were. I mean, not when he introduced me to you. To be honest, I’m not sure we were even really together after, since we didn’t get a chance to have that conversation before everything…

happened… but regardless, we kind of were, and…

” God, I’m rambling. Every practiced word has dissolved in my mind.

“And?” she prods.

“And…” I let the word hang there, even as it leaves a fresh tear in my chest. “And I feel like you need to know that, so you don’t go out of your way for me on his behalf.”

She leaned back slowly, arms crossing over her chest.

“On his behalf,” she repeats.

“Yes.”

She nods then, surveying the room for a long, excruciating minute before she speaks again. “Do you know how I started Land and Associates, Bea?”

The non sequitur is so unexpected that I pause. “No.”

“I was with another firm before this one. It was founded by my first husband years before he met me. Needless to say, he was older and more established, so it was his name on the door. And because his name was the first thing people saw, they assumed I was there because of him. That he had done me a favor. And after a while, I started to believe that, too.” She pauses on the memory for a moment, then shrugs.

“Obviously, when we got divorced, I left the practice. He told people he was glad, because I was a pain in the ass.” She smiles.

“He wasn’t wrong. He just never realized that was a good thing.

It’s what made me a good lawyer. And what prompted me to start my own firm a year later.

It was terrifying, of course. I didn’t know if I was smart enough, if I had only been successful for all those years because of him.

But do you know what? All the clients I had at my husband’s firm followed me to my new one.

Every single one. They didn’t do that because he had given me the opportunity.

They did that because I’m good at what I do. ”

She finally turns to look at me, her gaze sharp and her lips pursed.

“I appreciate your honesty, Bea. And I understand it. But I also need you to know that it’s bullshit.

Nate wouldn’t go out on a limb for you just because you were sleeping together.

People’s reputations have been ruined for less.

And there’s no way in hell I would hire someone simply because they were sleeping with him, either.

I don’t even hire the people I’m sleeping with. ”

I can’t help but smile.

“Nate is a smart lawyer,” she continues. “He introduced you because he thought you were smart, too. And I’m sitting here right now because I agree. Whether you’re with Nate or not doesn’t affect that. Okay?”

I nod, the knot of unease slowly loosening in my chest. “Okay.”

“Good. Can we order now? I’m famished.”

We spend the next hour talking, and for a little while I forget to feel sad.

Between our salads and entrées, she tells me about her current caseload, about the direction the firm is moving in, and what sort of areas she sees potential growth.

During dessert and coffee, I give her an overview of my time in law school, about balancing my course load and my TA position.

She listens and nods; a few times I see her dampening a smile, as if she relates to my struggles with the petition against the Haun donation to the school.

“Yes, Frank mentioned that,” she says.

I still. “You talked to him?”

“Nate gave me his number,” she says offhandedly. “Frank also mentioned that you’ve known you wanted to pursue healthcare rights law since your first year.”

I nod.

“He also didn’t know why.”

She leans back in her chair again, one hand still resting on the table as her red fingernails tap a lazy rhythm. She’s waiting for an answer to her unvoiced question, like she knows there’s more there than just a passing interest and is ready to give me the time necessary to confess it.

I never have before. Not to anyone. But here at this pretentious restaurant with Marcie patiently waiting, I find myself taking a deep breath and saying: “My best friend has a substance use disorder.”

Something in her expression softens, but she doesn’t say anything, only waits for me to continue.

“Before his injury, I had never witnessed addiction before,” I say, my tongue nervously darting out to wet my lips.

“I had stereotypes in my head of what that looked like, how it affected someone. I think everyone does. Then I witnessed it firsthand. I saw how it swallows a person up. And how it leaves its mark, even after they tell you they’re better.

And now… I think those stereotypes exist to make people feel better about ignoring it, as if this awful thing that will destroy a person’s life and their relationships exists outside of their world, that it can’t easily find a way in with a minor injury, a single prescription.

Because the minute you realize that? It’s terrifying.

But we need to acknowledge that. Fully understand that the stereotypes exist to keep the people who have profited off these addictions safe, not us. ”

Silence then. She watches me for a long minute, studying my expression, and I let her. Then, finally, a slight smile. “I can see now why Frank told me I’d be a fool not to bring you on board.” She pauses, angling her head to look at me from under her brow. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

I nod and try to temper a grin. “Absolutely.”

We leave the restaurant a few minutes later.

Marcie explains the next steps in the hiring process as we walk to the curb—how I will be getting a call from her assistant in the next few days to set up a time to meet with her partners—and I’m trying to absorb every word but can barely hear her over the sound of my pulse in my ears.

By the time she says goodbye and I start walking to the subway, I’m struck by what just happened: I might be working at Land and Associates in the fall. This is happening.

And then my heart drops when I realize that the only person I want to tell is Nathan.