“Talk to Kade and Eva. Tell them this. I bet they’ll replace you here and find another role for you back home. They won’t want to lose you.”
“Your brother and his wife have been really good to me, Ky, and I don’t want to let them down, but I feel the time has come to try something new.”
“You’ve got to do what’s best for you and your family. As long as you give them notice and explain it as you’ve explained it to me, I am sure there will be no bad feelings between you. They wouldn’t want to come between you and Rachel, upset your family, or have you working a role you don’t enjoy anymore.”
“I hope you’re right because the last thing I want to do is fall out with them when they have given me so much.”
* * *
I rub my sweaty palms down the side of my jeans as I stand in the elevator, watching the floors disappear as we ascend higher, clutching a massive bouquet of colorful flowers in my hands while it feels like my heart might tear from my chest at any minute it’s pounding that fast. The plan I hatched last night with Kyler is in full swing, but an attack of last-minute nerves has me second-guessing myself. Rachel is always crazy busy; what if she doesn’t appreciate the gesture? What if she gets annoyed at me interfering in her work and showing up like this?
The elevator pings, and the doors slowly open, and I guess the time for backing out is gone. Thrusting my shoulders forward, I regain my confidence as I step out into the plush lobby. My heart bursts with pride at the sight of the huge Rachel McConaughey logo on the back wall behind the reception desk, and I am in awe of my wife’s brilliance.
“Mr. McConaughey.” Eleana’s eyes pop wide as I loom over her, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Did you have an appointment? I don’t see you on the schedule.” She looks all flustered, and I feel for the young woman. The last time I was here, she had only just started the job. I thought her nerves were because she was new, but I think she must have a nervous disposition.
Majella stands from her seat on the other side of the newer, younger receptionist. “Brad doesn’t need an appointment to see his wife, Eleana.” Her smile is kind as she gently chastises the girl.
Eleana’s cheeks flare bright red. “Of course, I’m sorry, sir.”
“It’s Brad, and no apologies are necessary. Is Rachel free now or still in her meeting?”
“The meeting ended fifteen minutes ago. You can go in to her,” Majella says, staring dreamily at the bouquet in my hands. “Rachel is a lucky woman.”
I’m not sure she’d agree with that sentiment anymore, but I nod and smile respectfully at Rachel’s office manager. I know Rachel thinks the world of Majella, and she goes above and beyond to keep my wife sane. Really, I should have brought flowers for her too.
I punch the code into the wall-mounted keypad, and the frosted glass double doors open, admitting me to the main floor. The large room is divided in three. To the left are the rooms where the interior design team works. In the middle is where the office-based staff resides, and the right-hand side of the space is where the meeting rooms and private offices are situated.
A few heads lift, and piercing stares almost burn a hole in the back of my shirt as I walk across the room. A few people I know say hello, and I return their greetings, noticing how transparent the visible urgency is in the room. A hum of excitement purrs in the air, and I can tell it’s a vibrant working environment and the staff truly enjoys their jobs. I have missed that, and I know if I was to be completely honest with myself I stopped loving my job long before I accepted the role and transfer to Ireland. Pity I hadn’t given it more consideration at the time, but my need to provide for my family has underpinned a lot of my decisions, not all of them smart.
Seeing what my mom went through with my dad left an indelible black mark on my soul. I swore a long time ago to sacrifice everything to ensure I could provide for my family.
Yet, the last thing I ever intended to sacrifice is my wife’s happiness or my marriage, and I think I have a lot of introspection to do.
But, like Ky said, it’s not too late. As long as we still love each other and are committed to our marriage, we can overcome the other obstacles.
Rach’s office is the first one in this area, and I make a beeline for it, knocking firmly on the wooden door. I don’t want to barge in, in case anyone is inside with my wife. The blinds are drawn on the glass windows, shielding the office from view. I frown when there is no response to my knock, wondering if Rachel is actually in there. Not wanting to look like a prize prick, standing stupidly outside his wife’s office holding a bunch of flowers, I turn the handle and walk into the room, slamming to a halt when I see my wife bent over her desk, sobbing her heart out.
I quickly close the door and stride toward her. “Rachel! What’s wrong?” She doesn’t look up, continuing to cry, her shoulders heaving as her body wracks with huge sobs. I don’t know if she has even heard me. I place the flowers down and round her desk, crouching in front of her. I reach for her arm. “Sweetheart. It’s me. Please tell me what’s wrong?”
Rachel stills, and her sobs stop as she slowly lifts her chin. Angling her head, she stares at me through swollen red-rimmed eyes. “Brad?” she croaks, looking from me to the flowers and back again. “What are you doing here?” She sniffles, straightening up, and I unfurl to my full height, leaning my butt against the desk as I watch my clearly distressed wife with a stabbing pain in my heart.
If I have caused this, I don’t know if I can forgive myself.
“I came to surprise you. I wanted to take you out for lunch and … never mind that now. Why are you crying? Is this because of me, or has someone done something to hurt you?” I swear if any asshole has upset her, I will lay them out flat.
“We won the Tribeca contract,” she says.
“Congratulations. I know how badly you wanted it.”
“I did. I do.” She corrects herself, removing a tissue packet from her top drawer. “It’s a great thing.”
“So, why the tears?”
With soft, deliberate movements, I brush damp strands of hair back off her face.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she wails. Her lower lip wobbles, and more tears pool in her eyes.
I drop to my knees, swiveling her chair around so we’re facing one another. I take her hands in one hand and cup her face with the other as I stare into pained eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
