She looked at him, then straight ahead. “Sorry your talk didn’t go well.”
“It did not go well. You are correct.”
That was all the conversation they had for the next fifteen minutes. His jaw was locked with frustration. When they pulled into his driveway, he said, “You’re welcome to spend the night.” Then, because that sounded too suggestive, he added, “Downstairs, of course.”
“Yeah, I knew that.” She tilted her head to look at him. “What? You clearly want to tell me something.”
“Your advice was disastrous,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t listened to you.”
“It didn’t land right, that’s for sure. I’m sorry.”
“It was disastrous!” he repeated. “No one wants to hear anything from me. It doesn’t matter how I feel, because apparently, I’m not allowed to have feelings. I have a successful career, and I should never ask for anything, even if it’s just to feel a little less like a stranger in my own family.”
Her face softened, and she put a hand on his forearm. “Oh, Satan,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be! I don’t know why I thought you would have something intelligent to offer.”
“Wow. That’s really rude.”
“Well, Winnie, you don’t know them, do you? You don’t know us. It’s very clear no one in my family cares that there were aspects of my childhood that…left a mark.”
“It’s not that they don’t care, I bet. Besides, it’s important to say those things anyway, even if you don’t get the response you want.”
“Why?” he demanded. “So I could be insulted and dismissed?”
“Well, no. But I guess you have to accept what they can and can’t give and let it go.”
“Where was that advice before, Winnie? I thought I was supposed to pick my scabs and tell them how I felt. But now it’s ‘let it go’? Can you stick with just one pop psychology theory, please?”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I am, Lorenzo. I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted.”
“I have what I want! Look around, Winnie! I’m very successful! I have everything! Life has worked out extremely well for me, in case you didn’t notice.”
Was that pity on her face? Pity? “It’s okay to want more, Lorenzo. To connect with people. To let them see more than one side of you. And you could, if you’d just get out of your own way.”
The pressure in his head made it feel like his eye was about to pop out of the socket. “You know what?” he said, his voice flat. “You’re fired.”
She blinked but said nothing.
“You think I’m someone I’m not, and it’s maddening,” he went on. “What about your own life? You’ve spent years underachieving career-wise, you chose an idiot to fall in love with, and somehow you feel qualified to lecture me on how I’m doing. It’s condescending and tone-deaf.”
Her face turned stony. “I’m condescending and tone-deaf?”
“Thank you for your work. I’ll pay you for the whole night, and you can stay here if you’ve had too much to drink?—”
“I had a ginger ale and water.”
“Good. Then you can drive home.”
“Fine. I’ll expect a glowing reference.” She got out of the car, then bent down, her ponytail slipping over her collarbone. “And you’re right about the idiot I chose to fall in love with.” Then she slammed the door of the Lamborghini as hard as the car would allow.
TWENTY-ONE
WINNIE
He was the idiot she’d fallen in love with. The second one in a row. Her heart felt like a shriveled piece of seaweed.
Obviously, his talk with his family didn’t go so well. But fired? Yes. Fired. Once again, she was unemployed. She drove very carefully to make up for the chaos in her head.
