“You were mentoring a man?” he asks, and I zero in on him.
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
After a two second staring contest, Damien blinks. “No. I suppose it’s not.”
“Eventually we became rather competitive, and I guess that sort of led to some kind of chemistry. We began seeing each other. It lasted a little over a year.”
“What happened?” he asks.
“He cheated on me,” I answer with a straight posture. I don’t like talking about it, and if I don’t shield myself in some way, I will probably become a blubbery mess because it ruined the trajectory of my life.
“He cheated on you,” Damien echoes.
“With the secretary.”
“Of course he fucking did,” he mutters, leaning back.
“After that, things just got messy. People gossiped, took sides, and eventually it was easier just to leave.”
“You resigned because some dick who was most likely less qualified than you wormed his way in, took your job and then left you for a woman whose highest qualification is answering phones?” he asks sharply.
“He made my life miserable. So yes. I left.”
“You know you could have taken his ass down, right?” he asks.
“It’s not worth it.”
“Your job isn’t worth it?”
“Not that job, no. Even if I did love it. Once I realized the kind of people I was working with were not people I could trust, I realized there had to be something better out there.”
Damien leans in, and this is suddenly feeling like an interrogation. “Your next job was at a dentist’s office.”
The words sting, but I keep my head up. “So you did read the resume.”
“Today,” he admits.
“The Suerte fiasco left a bit of a blemish on my professional reputation. It was easier for me just to duck out of the industry at the time. Even if that meant taking a low-paying job that I was overqualified for.”
“You let him win,” he says.
“I protected myself,” I combat.
After that, Damien motions with his hand for me to go on.
“I was depressed. I’m not going to lie. I lost my job and the man I thought I loved all in one fell swoop. And while I was, as you put it, doing nothing more than answering phones at a pediatric dentist’s office, he was working his way up the ladder. Way up the ladder. But eventually, I put myself back out there again.”
“But your next job wasn’t until a year later. Waitressing…” he points out, and little by little I feel like a balloon slowly losing all its air.
“I meant in the dating department. I got a little adventurous.”
Damien scowls at that, and it’s obvious how uninterested he is in it. “I don’t see what a couple of one-night stands has to do with your career going off the rails.”
“I got pregnant,” I tell him, and for the first time I see actual shock on Damien’s face.
He turns, looking at the small, worn-out shoes by the door. Before he got here, they were thrown about. Now they are neatly lined up. Then he looks at the fridge, covered in crayon and marker art work. His eyes, dark and unreadable, land on mine.
“You have a kid?” he asks.
