Page 105 of True Colors

I regard him thoughtfully.

“You learn how to lead here,” he continues. “Then you run a slightly bigger company and learn some more. And then another. And another. That’s how this works. By the time I’m ready to retire—or your mother decides I am—you’ll be ready to take over. Not because you rushed, but because you grew.”

He makes a hell of a lot of sense.

I see it now. I’ve been chasing a finish line that was never meant to be sprinted toward. I was trying to arrive at a place that can only be reached by staying put, by learning, by failing, by doing the work.

“Maybe”—I smile wanly at my father—“I don’t need to be ready now. Maybe I need to become better.”

Dad gives me an appreciative nod. “Attaboy.” Then he leans forward. “Now, tell me about this girl you’ve fallen in love with.”

I take a deep breath. “Anouk is…brilliant. You saw the model? She’s amazing. Stunning. She has a great sense of humor, and she’s generous and….” My breath catches as the reality of what I did shreds me. “Dad, I’ve lost her.”

My father tosses his shoulders. “You hurt her and yourself…needlessly. But you’re not irredeemable.”

Hope flickers despite myself. “You think I have a chance?”

He chuckles. “Now, Luther, you know you can charm just about anyone.” He looks me in the eyes, holds my gaze. “Does she love you?”

I grimace. “Much, much less after what I pulled.”

“You’re going to have to earn your way back with her and your team as well. Vijay looked pissed.”

“He didn’t agree with having Erin present.”

Dad stands up. “Speaking of which, I think you need to deal with Erin. You need to surround yourself with people who will give you good advice, not those who will use your fear—and theirs—to push you into making dumb choices.”

“You’re right.”

“I always am,” he says cockily.

“And you wonder where I learned to be arrogant,” I mutter.

After Dad leaves, I call my sister. She’s one of the best executive coaches I know, and I desperately need coaching.

“I blew it. Completely fucking blew it.”

“Blew what? Who?”

I tell her everything. I leave nothing out. Not even the nasty bits about myself that make me cringe in retrospect.

She whistles. “Mom’s going to be thrilled that you have a girlfriend.”

“Did you miss the part where I decimated her for having a stutter, and she probably wants to knee me in the nuts?”

“Well, yeah, you’ve got a mountain to climb, but I’m going to put my money on you to climb it and win back the fair maiden.”

“I never meant to hurt her, Ria,” I say hoarsely, because I don’t have her confidence.

Ria is quiet for a moment. I can practically see her organizing her thoughts the way she does before she dismantles an argument in the classroom or at a dinner party.

“Now, you know better than anyone that intent doesn’t erase impact,” she chides.

I close my eyes. “I thought I was protecting the project.”

“You were protecting yourself,” she corrects. “From discomfort. From scrutiny. From sitting in the room while someone you care about struggled publicly.”

I wince. “She wouldn’t have failed.”