I went right to the office, not caring what people might think of my tearstained face. I needed to see Brendan. No, seeing wouldn’t be enough. I needed to feel his arms wrapped around me and wanted to hear him tell me everything was going to be okay.
Thankfully, his secretary wasn’t at her desk, but Brendan was at his. I walked in, shut the door, and rushed toward him. He pushed back from his desk and took me into his fold. At first, he was rigid, and then he relaxed. I imagined I’d scared the shit out of him.
“Did something happen?”
I shook my head as best I could while trying to combat the flow of tears. He would understand the tearstains on his shirt but wouldn’t appreciate them.
“I’m going to lose her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said as he held me tighter. “I wish there was something I could do.”
I relaxed a bit and leaned back enough to look at him. “There has to be someone you know,” I said. “Or some experimental study going on?”
He shook his head slowly. “None that I know of.”
A sudden rush of anger came over me. I stood and began pacing his office. “Are you kidding me right now? You have so many friends, and not even one of them is working in the medical field or doing some lifesaving experiment?”
“It’s not something we talk about, Toni.”
“Call them,” I said, pointing to the phone. “Pick it up and fucking call them. You know someone who can fix all of this.”
Brendan came toward me, catching me before I collapsed onto the ground. His office door opened, and he barked out, “Not now.”
He picked me up and carried me to the brown leather sofa he kept in his office for entertaining, although he took naps on it often, and preferred any entertaining to happen in the boardroom.
I curled into him and continued to sob while he held me, stroked his hand up and down my back, and whispered that everything was going to be okay. The last part was nothing more than a coping mechanism, because nothing was going to be okay. It wasn’t now and it would never be.
He held me until my tears stopped and my breathing leveled out. I finally extricated myself from his hold and excused myself to use his en suite bathroom.
The person who stared back was not me. Until last week, I was this put-together businesswoman, dressed in designer clothes and shoes, with not a hair out of place—no nonsense, looking like I’d stepped out of a magazine spread.
Now, I looked haggard. Tired beyond recognition. My hair had dulled, my eyes were constantly bloodshot, and I couldn’t rememberthe last time I’d washed my face properly. I’d never done a one-eighty so fast in my life.
I didn’t like the person in the mirror. That wasn’t me, and whoever it was wouldn’t be strong enough to help Miri through what seemed impossible.
If I needed her, then she needed me one hundred times over. I needed to get my shit together and be strong for her.
I turned on the cold water, cupped my hands, filled the bowl I’d made, and then bent over to cover my face. The coldness stung at first but quickly became refreshing. I did this a few times before I felt refreshed enough to face Brendan as my boss and not my lover.
Patting my face dry, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I was somewhat better, but not quite there. After finger-combing my hair, I pulled it back into a ponytail, bringing some of my sides down to give myself a semidecent polished look.
With my hand on the doorknob, I twisted and walked out with my shoulders square and an expression meant for business.
“Better?”
His question or statement caught me off guard. He didn’t ask if I was better or how I was feeling; he stated the word as if I’d had some momentary issue.
“Unlikely,” I told him with petulance. The lack of thoughtfulness in his question irritated me.
Clearly unfazed, Brendan handed me a stack of folders. I didn’t reach for them, instead staring at the tricolor stack with contempt and confusion.
“What’s this?” I hesitantly took the folders from him.
“The projects I’ve been working on, on your behalf.” Brendan sat down and swiveled toward his computer. “I’ve taken the liberty of setting up the necessary client meetings. When you sit down to go through them, you’ll see which ones I’ve marked as priority. Those are the ones that need your utmost attention.”
As much as I wanted to devote every waking second to Miri and the kids, I had to work. My job paid extremely well, and it wasn’t something I could give up. But it was something I could do from home if necessary.
“I’ll look at the schedule,” I told him. “And adjust as necessary.”
