Page 93 of The Havenport Collection

Astrid

I woke up Monday morning after a solid twelve hours of sleep in Declan’s bed with Ginger curled up by my side.

Declan and I had spent all of Sunday curled up on the couch watching Netflix.

He held me when I cried, made me delicious food, and never left my side.

I was still bruised and shaken, but I was feeling much better.

I rolled over and saw a note next to the bed. “Had to go to work. Coffee is in the kitchen and my mom dropped off some banana bread for you on the counter. Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll see you tonight. Love, Declan”

I sighed and stretched out in the luxurious bed and looked out at the ocean. Today was a new day. The drama of the weekend was over, and for better or worse, this was a new world.

I had no job. I had no future. And I didn’t even care. I had Declan, I had my friends, and I had closure. Fuck Max Shapiro and fuck Burns & Glenn. That bridge was burned. And I was going to dance on its ashes.

I checked my phone. The girls were all texting about Monday breakfast. I had considered skipping, but I had nothing to be ashamed of.

I couldn’t lie around all day waiting for the Boston Police Department to call me and apologize for arresting me, right?

Plus, my friends would probably want to hear about the gala and see some photos of my dress.

We had a mimosa toast at Monday breakfast to my kicking ass as I told them all about the ball, how incredible Declan looked in his tux, and the incident with Max.

It wasn’t easy to talk about, but they were so kind and supportive, unlike my mother, who watched me get arrested and didn’t even bother to call me.

These women had my back, and I loved them for it.

The next few days passed in a pleasant blur.

I took walks with Ginger, played with Emily’s kids, and went to Krav Maga class with Nora.

At my insistence, she did not brag to Yael about the incident with Max.

Sharing with my friends was one thing, but blasting this news out to the entire Havenport community when I hadn’t processed what happened was quite another.

I even called Dr. Martha, my former therapist, and set up an appointment with her for the next week.

If I was going to move on with my life, process what had happened, and open myself up to what was next, I knew I would need her support.

I was feeling ready. Ready for my future, ready for the next chapter.

I spent every single night with Declan. We cooked, made love, and sat by the fire reading together. Wrapped up in his arms I felt safe, I felt loved, I felt cherished. And I knew that this was where I wanted to be forever.

A few days later, I was walking Ginger when my phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Astrid Wentworth? This is Maria calling from Burns & Glenn. I have John Waterson on the line for you.”

The next thing I knew I heard a click.

“Astrid,” he said jovially, “how are you?”

Considering the last time I had spoken to this man he had told me not to get so emotional, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Fine,” I said coolly.

“Great. Astrid, there is no easy way to say this. We are very sorry about what happened at the gala. The entire firm is embarrassed by the way that Shapiro behaved.”

“Thank you,” I replied. I didn’t understand. Law firms don’t usually admit mistakes, they just gaslight you into thinking they were right all along.

“And moreover, we regret the mistake we made. The firm leadership put a lot of trust into Max Shapiro and didn’t fully vet the accusations made against him by you and other personnel.”

“That’s obvious. I trust you’ve seen the formal complaints filed by myself and Monica Walsh?”

“Yes. We had an emergency partners’ meeting yesterday, and we are launching a full investigation. I wanted to thank you personally for coming forward.”

I stood in stony silence. We had filed our complaints weeks ago. How could he so casually dismiss the evidence we provided? He didn’t care until the partner in question was arrested for assault and battery.

“As you know,” he continued, “reputation is everything here. And I’m deeply sorry yours was impacted by Max Shapiro’s actions.”

“Thank you.”

“And I want to assure you, Max has been placed on indefinite leave from the firm without pay during the pendency of this investigation. He will not be returning.”

I didn’t care. They deserved each other. I said my piece, I filed my complaint, and offered up the texts, emails, and photos on my phone as evidence. I did my part, and now it was time to move on with my life.

“And I want you to know we have cooperated thoroughly with the Boston Police Department, and I expect the charges against you will be dropped by the end of the week. So we would like you to return to the firm. Preferably at your earliest convenience but we are also willing to give you a few weeks given the recent incident.”

“What?” I was gobsmacked. How was this possible? The Boston Police Department was going to drop the charges against me? Max had been removed from the firm? And they wanted me back at my old job ASAP? This was insane.

“We have had several clients ask for you, Astrid. You have a bright future here. And I know that you have been missed.”

That was horseshit. No one had noticed I was gone. I knew that for a fact. When someone left, the vultures circled to claim their clients, their office, and their secretary. I even saw people pillage a former colleague’s office and steal their legal journals.

I remembered reading an article about climbing Mt.

Everest. About how hikers had to pass by the dead bodies of those who didn’t make it on the way up.

The atmosphere preserved the bodies, and the altitude made it dangerous to remove them.

So hikers literally stepped over the dead and dying on their way to the summit to achieve their goal.

That’s what it was like at Burns & Glenn.

Stepping over the bodies of your fallen colleagues on the way up.

It was every man or woman for themselves.

There was no room for compassion, no room for collaboration—only dominance.

You could never stop watching your back because someone would take your spot in a heartbeat.

The minute I was gone, Charlotte pounced and took my clients, my secretary, and my place at the firm. It was the way it was there—kill or be killed. What was once totally commonplace and normal for me was now repulsive. The last place I wanted to be was back in that office tower.

My heart sank into my shoes. The thought of going back filled me with such dread.

A few short months ago this was my dream come true, but now I couldn’t help but shake the nightmare of returning to my office, to my apartment, to a lifestyle devoid of anything but relentless, thankless work.

And if I came back I certainly couldn’t pursue a lawsuit.

Yes, they fired Max, but what were they doing to prevent sexual harassment and discrimination?

Were the people who covered for him being held accountable?

How could I advocate for other vulnerable women if I picked back up where I left off?

“I have a call in five minutes. But you can arrange everything with my secretary. HR will do the rest. Welcome back, Astrid.”

“Wait,” I said.

There was stony silence on the other end of the line. “I need to process this information and decide if I want to come back,” I explained.

His tone shifted, annoyance taking over.

“If? Astrid, this firm hired you and trained you and built you into the lawyer you are today. This is the best place for you. I understand the past few months have been difficult and the events of this weekend were deeply traumatic. In fact, we have an in-house crisis counselor. I will have my secretary set you up with her.”

He clearly wasn’t getting it. “I will consider your offer,” I said curtly, “and be in touch when I decide if I would like to return.”

I hung up, feeling emotionally exhausted and angry. I had been having such a good day.

I had always prided myself on being the coolest person in the room. I was taught that there was power in control, in silence. I trained myself to be calm at all times and never cause a fuss.

But I couldn’t deny that there was fire inside me.

Fury, rage, anger. I had been suppressing it for decades.

I convinced myself I was a quiet, subdued person, but I wasn’t.

I was just Astrid. And sometimes I was loud and sometimes I was quiet.

I could do both. I was a full person now, one who swore and danced and had glorious orgasms.

Could I even fit in that world anymore?

I had grown. I had expanded so much since coming to Havenport. I had found my fight, and I couldn’t give it up.