And all I can think about is that my personal balance sheet is currently in the red by one takeout bag and a woman who hates me.
"Brooks."
I turn. The room has cleared out, leaving only my father.
He walks over to me. He looks older under the fluorescent lights, but his eyes are sharp. He looks at me with something that might be pride.
"You did good," he says.
"Thanks, Dad."
"I was worried," he admits. "A few months ago... you seemed unpredictable. The deal was stalling, and the board was circling. I thought you were cracking. I thought the pressure had finally broken you."
"I didn't crack," I say stiffly.
"No," he agrees. "You didn't. You found an anchor."
He walks over to the window, looking out at the city.
"That girl," he says. "Ivy. She's impressive. I watched her at the gala. I watched her at the polo match. She manages a room better than half the executives on my payroll."
"She's a professional," I say, the defense automatic.
"She's a partner," he corrects. He turns back to me. "You know, your mother was skeptical. She thought she was a gold digger. But I told her a woman who works that hard isn't looking for a handout. She's looking for a challenge."
He claps a hand on my shoulder.
"You need someone like that, Brooks. Someone who isn't afraid of you. Someone who keeps you honest. You're a better man when she's around."
The words hit hard.
You're a better man when she's around.
He's right.
With Ivy, I'm not just a calculator. I'm not just a suit. I'm the guy who eats burgers on car hoods. I'm the guy who laughs in the rain. I'm the guy who defends his partner against the Penelopes of the world.
And I pushed her away. I told her it was biology. I told her to focus on the contract.
"I have to go," I say abruptly.
"Go?" he asks. "We have a celebratory lunch at Per Se. The partners are waiting."
"You go," I say, grabbing my briefcase. "Tell them I have a... personal matter."
"Brooks, you can't just?—"
"I just made this company a billion dollars, Dad," I say, heading for the door. "I think I earned a lunch break."
I walk out of the boardroom, leaving my father staring after me.
I don't go to Per Se. I go to my office.
I call my personal lawyer, frantic.
"The waiver," I bark into the phone as I pace the length of the room. "Bring me the file."
"The escrow file?" Arthur asks, sounding confused. "Sir, the agreement stipulates that the waiver remains in custody until the completion of the eight-week term. We can't release it to Ms.Sullivan yet."
