Page 89 of Mr. Perfect

“Publish your book, Ells. Just put it up online like we talked about. It’s good.”

“How can it possibly be good?” I say. “How, Ming? My life is a mess. My career. If you could ever even call it that, is over.”

“Your career hasn’t even started yet, Eloise Hatcher. That book is your future. You’re a good life coach. Don’t they always say that? The cobbler’s children go shoeless or some shit like that? Well, you can still find clarity in the lives of others, even if you can’t in your own.”

“It’s fake,” I say. “It’s fake to say I can help people when I can’t even help myself. And I can’t deal with this fake life anymore.”

“Ellie.” Ming sighs. “I like your funny dreams and delusions. Everyone does. Your fantasies make people happy.”

“Well, they don’t make me happy,” I admit. “Not one bit.”

“So change it, Ells,” Ming says softly. “Come home and change it. We’ll do it together.”

Chapter Thirty-Four - Mac

A knock on my office door disrupts my pensive mood as I gaze out the window at the cows. It’s snowing today and all they are are little blobs of black and red on a sea of white. “Come in,” I call out.

“Mac?” Stephanie says from behind me.

“Yes,” I say, sticking my hands in the pockets of my suit trousers.

“She’s on in three minutes.”

I nod without turning around.

“Do you want me to turn your TV on? We’re all going to watch on the big TV out in the Atrium.”

“No,” I say. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Stephanie leaves, closing the door quietly behind her. It’s been six long months since I saw Ellie. Six months of wondering how to fix things and six months of coming to the realization that there are some things people need to do on their own.

Returning to this office after Ellie walked out was mine, I guess. I was hiding when I came here as McAllister Stonewall, I just didn’t realize it. But Alexander has been a dear friend of mine all growing up. Heath and I really are like brothers. And if anyone messed with Camille I’d be there to set him straight just like any big brother. So I guess I rationalized it. I could still be Mac, I’d just take the Stonewall last name until the company was sold. Alexander never wanted to sell, he wanted me to step up. And I guess he got his way after all. Because the thought of walking away from this place after Ellie left was too much. I wanted the job at that point.

No, I correct myself. I needed it. To give me a lifeline to her. To give me some hope that the things I was beginning to realize about myself might not be true.

They are true. Were true.

I was hiding. For ten years I lost myself in the charity. In philanthropy. In the hopes that it would wipe away the dirty stain left over from college.

The guilt.

I didn’t rape that girl. And if she hadn’t accused me, and all my friends, of raping her, I’d probably never even remember her name.

But the guilt after she was killed. That was something I couldn’t live with.

She was dead because of who I am. Maybe I didn’t do it, but if Maclean Callister didn’t exist she would never have been involved in that setup. She’d still be alive if I was never born.

So yeah. I ran. I can admit now, but only because I know what it feels like to be left behind.

Which is why I stayed, I guess. I pictured what my father probably went through after I took off and started giving my money away like it was growing on trees.

I never needed the money. And giving it away isn’t even meaningful. I have so many trusts that are accruing interest, and some mature every year or two. My family set me up this way so I’d never have to work a day in my life.

It wasn’t a risk to give it away. Not even in the denominations I was dealing with. Because barring some continuous financial catastrophe, I always knew there’d be more.

The philanthropic work was satisfying for a long time. It kind of felt like work. I got up every day and had phone calls. Meetings. Made decisions.

I just never had to report to anyone.