Page 86 of The Havenport Collection

Astrid

T he conversation with Monica drained me. I wanted to go to bed for the next week, but I also wanted to see Declan and Ginger.

I walked over to his house, noting his car in the driveway, and knocked on the front door. I heard Ginger bark—she knew it was me and that made me feel amazing—and heard his footsteps.

He opened the door. “Come in.”

The house smelled amazing. I was used to being spoiled by Declan’s cooking, but the aroma of garlic and something herby filled the air and it made my stomach rumble. “What are you cooking?”

“Pasta with some fresh lobster.” Oh my God, he was the perfect man. Why was he not married yet? Hot dude who cooks and loves his dog. I should put an ad in the paper. There would be women lined up from here to Canada.

I gave Ginger a pat and took off my boots. Declan walked closer.

“Astrid, you’re shaking. Are you okay?”

“I wanted to tell you something. I just got off the phone with a woman named Monica who I used to work with at Burns & Glenn.”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears poured out of my eyes. I couldn’t control myself. Everything just came out of me. All the guilt and shame I had been carrying around. The dam broke.

Declan wrapped his strong arms around me and held me while I sobbed. He said nothing, but his presence soothed me.

I hiccupped. “It wasn’t just me. There were others. At least one and maybe a couple more.”

“Oh, Astrid.” He stroked my hair and I clung to his chest.

“I let this happen to me. It’s my fault.”

Declan pulled back and tilted my chin up to look at him. “Don’t say that. You did nothing wrong, Astrid. That place brainwashed you and mistreated you. You said no. You did the right thing.”

“No, I didn’t. I was more concerned about saving my job than protecting other women. I didn’t think. Monica has a daughter. And now she wants to fight for her.”

“That’s great news.”

“Yes. But why couldn’t I fight? Why did I slink off in shame?”

“Because you are learning, you are evolving, and you are finding your fight.”

I walked over to the couch and Declan sat next to me, his arm around my shoulders.

“We talked. She’s a mom now and started crying when I told her what happened to me. We are going to file complaints against him with the firm. He retaliated against both of us. That’s illegal. And we’re going to contact some other women who may have been victimized. And then we are going to sue.”

“I’m proud of you, killer.” He looked deeply into my eyes. “Astrid, you are one of the toughest, strongest people I’ve ever met. And maybe it took what happened to you for you to realize that. But with your strength, your grit, you can do anything. Truly anything.”

“Thank you.” And I meant it. Sitting here with him, I felt strong. I felt like I could do it.

“Is this going to hurt your chances of getting another law firm position?”

“In a fair world, it shouldn’t. But this isn’t a fair world.

This is likely going to torpedo my career.

At least for a few years. But I am willing to take my chances.

If the firm has been covering up for his gross behavior for years, I don’t want to work there anyway.

” All this time I thought it was just me.

How could I be so na?ve? But I was wiser now, and I wanted to make sure no other women would be taken advantage of.

Just having this conversation was making my blood pressure rise and my heart race. It was all coming back to me. The constant hopelessness. The fear and paranoia that everyone else was working harder and that I wasn’t smart enough and dedicated enough to make it.

The firm is designed that way—to keep everyone working constantly.

There is no praise, there is no achievement, just constant pressure and constant paranoia.

I remember in my first year going to my first review, being very proud of myself for exceeding our annual billable hours requirement.

The firm set a standard, and I had exceeded it. I expected a pat on the back.

Instead the partner doing my review sat me down and said I needed to do more. When I responded that I had exceeded the requirement, he said that was a floor not a ceiling and if my colleagues were working much harder it didn’t really matter whether I exceeded it or not.

I was so confused. Why have a requirement if it was meaningless? What were we supposed to be working toward? Basically there was no safety. There was no feeling secure in your job. You had to stay hungry and keep your head on a swivel. No one was your friend.

Sitting here, wrapped in Declan’s arms miles away from the office tower and all the firm bullshit, I felt safe. I felt protected. But talking to Monica brought it all back. I felt my shoulders hunch and my neck tighten.

What happened to me wasn’t an isolated incident.

It happened at least one other time—one more woman who was screwed over with no recourse. And I knew in my bones there were others, and I was going to find them.

How could I have given that place my loyalty for so long?

They tried to toss me out at the earliest convenience.

Now that I was surrounded by people who actually cared about me, and I knew what true loyalty was, I felt gross.

I wanted to run screaming into the freezing cold ocean just to get the stench of those greedy liars off me.

I loved it here. Declan’s bedroom was beautiful. Large windows faced the ocean. The room was bare except for the huge queen bed. He had soft sheets and fluffy pillows, and everything about it just drew me in.

Lying in this bed with this gorgeous man was the highlight of my life.

I spent years of my life barely sleeping. Waking up every few hours in a panic, heart racing, pulse pounding in fear that I missed something. Or fearing that while I was sleeping someone else was working and passing me by.

But here, in this bed, with this man, I slept. Really slept. And I found that I loved it. Getting all snuggled up and just letting go. It had been more than two months since I’d been fired, but I had finally started to sleep through the night again, waking up rested and positive to start the day.

It didn’t help that I usually woke up to a hot naked man who wanted to have his way with me—in bed, in the shower, on the couch, pretty much anywhere. We even made really good use of an ottoman in the cottage last week. I should probably get that steam cleaned before I move out.

Declan was insatiable. Every time I thought I was satisfied, he found a way to make me feel things I never thought possible.

We had spent the night watching TV, cuddling, and walking Ginger. It was perfect. Even more perfect when he gently stripped off my clothes and gave me multiple earth-shattering orgasms.

We were lying in bed, naked. He had lit the gas fireplace and the room was illuminated by the soft flames. He was spooning me, nuzzling my neck, and I felt boneless and content.

“I don’t want this to be fake anymore,” he gently whispered into my ear.

I turned around to face him. He was even more handsome with his wild-sex hair and bedroom eyes.

“Me neither,” I replied, kissing him deeply.

“Astrid, this is real for me. So real. And I want it to be real for you too.”

“It is.” I cupped his face. “It is so real.”

“I’m scared. I know it’s not manly to say that. But I am feeling things. Real things. And I don’t know what to do about it,” he admitted sheepishly.

“First of all, feelings are fucking sexy. Second, I get it. I am confused as hell. But I want to be with you, and right now that’s good enough for me.”

He smiled at me. “I can live with that.”

I settled in, snuggled into his broad chest. “Tell me something,” he said.

“Whatever you want,” I replied.

“Tell me a secret. Something real.”

I thought about it, letting myself settle deeper into his strong warmth.

“So, don’t tell anyone, but I secretly love kids.”

“Um. Why is that a secret? It’s not exactly strange to like kids.” He sounded confused.

I sighed. “You don’t understand. In my world it is.

They would probably revoke my feminist card if I admitted to liking kids and wanting some of my own.

In my world, kids are a liability. They hold you back, and more importantly, they make people take you less seriously.

” I wasn’t lying. Everyone I knew who had kids had felt the impact on their careers.

One of my old friends from the firm, Meghan, was told she was “obsessed” with her kids because she had photos of them in her office.

At a review she was told it was hurting her career.

Another friend was chastised by a female partner when she revealed she was pregnant with her second child.

She was told one child was fine, but two was “out of hand.”

Was this all just ugly sexism? Of course it was.

But in a male-dominated profession it was part of the game.

We all knew the rules. If you have kids, you pretend they don’t exist until they go to a prestigious college and then you are allowed to brag about them.

Leaving early or taking time off to care for said kids is sacrilege for both men and women.

Which is why my desire for kids was secret. I couldn’t admit that I wanted some of my own. But Declan made me feel safe, made me feel cherished. I felt like I could share my real self with him. He shifted and looked me in the eyes.

“Do you want kids?” he asked.

I froze. This was meaningful on so many levels. I wasn’t ready for this conversation. But there was no going back now. Intimacy was a tricky bitch. “I do. My knee-jerk reaction is to pretend I don’t, and then maybe, you never know—but the reality is I do.”

He studied me for a moment while I panicked. He was probably thinking about how quickly he could get me out of his house.

I couldn’t stop the verbal diarrhea. “I was an only child. And my mother was, shall we say, distant. I didn’t have the kind of hands-on parents that you did.

So for me, I would love to have a child, or hopefully more than one, and kiss boo-boos and read bedtimes stories and take them trick or treating.

” And it was the truth. It was actually one of the things I spent much of my time talking to Dr. Martha about.

She constantly reassured me that it was normal and healthy to want a family of my own and that I shouldn’t be afraid to pursue it.

My mind wandered. I wanted to be the mom who baked cookies, wore matching PJs on Christmas morning, and made a mess doing science experiments in the kitchen.

I couldn’t deny that those were things I wanted, and for the first time, I didn’t want to deny it.

I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted this kind of intimacy.

I wanted him to know me inside and out. I wanted to build a family—a happy, messy, fun family.

I wanted to build a home filled with laughter and love.

“But it probably won’t happen,” I hedged.

“Why not? You’re only thirty-two.” He seemed so surprised.

“Because of my career, I don’t have time to invest in finding a partner and building a family.

And even if I did, I wouldn’t have the time necessary to devote to them.

” I didn’t say this part out loud, but I didn’t want to be like my mother.

If I was lucky enough to become a mother someday, I was going to do a damn better job than she did.

“Then get a new career.” His face was serious.

“Ha. That’s not even possible. I’ve only ever done this. I am only qualified to do this.”

“I doubt that. You are an accomplished, brilliant woman with an otherworldly work ethic. You can do whatever you want.”

“You say that because you don’t understand my world. BigLaw is weird and has its own rules.”

“Then screw BigLaw. Be Astrid. You don’t have to be an associate or partner at Fuckface & Asshole anymore. Be who you want to be.”

I looked at Declan’s kind, handsome face and kissed him deeply. “You’re right,” I said. And for the first time in my life, I believed it. I didn’t need Burns & Glenn. And let’s face it, after I filed my lawsuit, I wouldn’t be going to any BigLaw firm. And in that moment, I didn't care.

“Think about the future, Astrid. You can have whatever you want.” On some level I knew that.

I knew that I could pivot, career wise, find something new and be fine.

But deep down I was scared. Scared that I wasn’t enough.

Scared that no matter how hard I tried or how hard I worked, I would fail the people who mattered the most.