Better Daddy, page 27
“You look well.” She doesn’t even attempt to round the desk to greet me with a hug, and she doesn’t make any mention of my obvious pregnancy.
I’d be disappointed if it weren’t exactly what I expected.
When I was a little girl, there were no cuddles or bedtime stories. When she sent me to camps for the summer, educational ones, she didn’t hold me tight and tell me she’d miss me. I’m not even sure she was home the day I left for college, and when I graduated, I received a perfunctory nod and a new car to take with me to law school.
My parents met all my needs physically, but they gave me little attention. Their way of parenting is the antithesis of mine, and I hope like hell Sully and I are doing a decent job with T.J.
“Thank you, Mother. You do too.” And she does. Her hair—which is mostly gray since she’d never do something so frivolous as spend hours in a salon each month to keep up with coloring it—is pulled back in a low bun today. Her blue eyes, the same shade as mine, are still vibrant, and her skin, though aged, is still smooth because she rarely spends time in the sun. Her blue suit is simple, understated, and the large diamond on her left finger is the only outward sign of her wealth.
“My assistant just gave this to me. What’s going on?” I hold up the paper, figuring I might as well dive right in.
She sits across from me, perching on the edge of the chair. “Will told me you’ve been taken off litigation.”
Her tone is flat and unimpressed, which is not surprising in the least.
For once, I go with the God’s honest truth. “I like estates, and now that I’m pregnant, keeping up with litigation files is a challenge.”
My mother nods. “This case should help with that.”
Confused, I stare at her. “How?”
“This will prove that you can do it all,” she says like it should be obvious. “You’ll be in court. You’ll make a good impression. It’s a win-win.”
I grind my teeth together, though I can’t exactly shoot down her theory. And I do like being in court.
She isn’t wrong; the situation is pretty damn ideal, really. I just hate that she’s the one giving it to me. Again.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got me this job?” I ask pointedly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d dismissed the divorce?”
My jaw ticks. She’s too smart not to know the answer to that. She’s already looked at the file. She knows it’s still pending. A couple of months ago, Sully and I agreed to wait until after the baby is born to make any final decisions. Yes, we’re both in this one hundred percent, but we’ve had plenty of other things on our minds, so we’ve stuck to the plan and haven’t talked about the divorce proceedings at all.
But none of that is her business.
My mom huffs when she realizes I’m not going to give her a response. “I can only ask for so many favors, Sloane. You won’t make partner here if you don’t think outside the box. If you simply want to raise your babies and work on trusts, then it’s probably best you go back to your husband’s firm. It’s bad enough that you’ve stopped litigating. At least there you were a partner.”
Her words land, hitting me in a spot I don’t think she even knew existed. One I was wholly unprepared for. “I was never actually a partner,” I admit.
For the first time in my entire life, I think I actually shock my mother. She jolts backward. “What?”
I avert my gaze, peering out the window. “I wasn’t a partner.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug, going for aloof, despite the way that fact has always bothered me. “The guys are full partners. I worked mostly from home after T. J. was born. I hoped that after he was in school…”
I don’t finish my sentence. My mother isn’t an idiot. She doesn’t need me to explain how I naïvely believed that when T.J. went to kindergarten, I’d have time to focus on myself and my own goals again. I was the one at the top of our class in Columbia. I aced all the tests. When I joined Sully at his father’s law firm, I had offers from just about every other large law firm in New York that was worth talking about. I had fast-track to partner written all over me. I was the prize.
Until I had a baby.
He wasn’t an easy baby. He took more of my time and energy than I expected. Even after he went to kindergarten, someone had to do school drop-offs and pickups, and Sully never had time.
I was drowning, with a child who fought me every time I dropped him off, who would cry until I took him home with me. And on the days I could bribe him into going, I’d head to the office, only to be treated like I was there to catch up instead of work. Like I wasn’t a lawyer there too. Not one of them saw me, least of all my husband.
I blink, forcing the thoughts from my head. I don’t have it in me to go back to that time. Sully and I have worked through so much. Maybe we haven’t touched on these parts yet, but that’s probably because I’ve never mentioned how I felt about not being partner.
But we’re good now. We’re communicating. Every day, he goes above and beyond to show me that my career matters just as much as his. I’m not going to go borrowing trouble.
“I’m happy mother. I know this isn’t the career you pictured for me—” My mother scoffs, but I hold up my hand, forcing her to hear me. “My child is happy. My life is full. And Sully and I will figure out how to move forward, together.”
With a shake of her head, my mother stands. “I hope for your sake, you’re right.”
I hate that even after she leaves my office, her words stay with me.
Chapter 39
Sully
Like a complete schmuck, I whistle all the way up to Sloane’s floor. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel lately. My wife loves me, my son hasn’t climbed any structures and gotten stuck lately, and we’re in the last quarter of the trust requirement.
In four months, we can move back into our penthouse in New York and I can return to my office here as well.
And now I get to have lunch with my gorgeous wife.
I step off the elevator, humming Frank Sinatra’s “All the Way,” and nod at every lawyer I pass. Many I recognize, though there are several new, young faces.
When I see Julius, I point at him. “Caesar, my mate!”
“Oh, baby daddy’s in a better mood than baby mama.” He arches a brow in warning. “Go easy on her.”
I frown. What happened in the time between my text at ten and now?
If Will Higgins is responsible, I will actually break his nose. And I’ll fucking relish it. At my wife’s behest, I’ve said nothing since I found out about his disgusting ultimatum. It’s better this way. Knocking his arse out would only cause more problems for Sloane. But just imagining how good it would feel to wipe that smug look off his face makes my fingers twitch and my palms itch.
“Sully?” I snap to attention at the sound of my wife’s voice. She’s standing in the doorway, a sheet of paper in her hand.
Her dark hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, which is very unlike Sloane. She only wears it that way when she’s nervous or angry. She gets overheated in those situations, and she hates the feeling of her hair sticking to her skin. She doesn’t look red, though. She looks pale and tired, like she’s seen a ghost.
I eat up the space between us quickly and wrap her in my arms. Though she’s stiff at first, she softens quickly, letting out a long breath. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Always.” I press a quick kiss to her forehead and guide her back into her office. Figuring she needs a few minutes to compose herself, I shut the door. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
She eyes the door, then her focus drifts down to the paper in her hand. She sighs. “My mother was here.”
Ah, that makes far more sense. “Whatever she said, she’s wrong,” I tell her.
Sloane’s mother has a way of making her feel inadequate, and she can do it in a matter of minutes. It’s ridiculous, really. Sloane was a powerhouse in law school, and she created one hell of a career for herself before T.J. was born. And look at her now, back to rebuilding what she had to put on hold for so long. I’m unbelievably proud of her, and it baffles me that her mother isn’t too.
Sloane lets out a dry, brittle laugh. The sound breaks my fucking heart. She’s tired and dejected, and she looks so damn sad. “She had me appointed as guardian in this case, then said, and I quote, ‘I can only ask for so many favors, Sloane. You won’t make partner here if you don’t think outside the box.’”
I frown. Why the fuck would she want to be partner here? I survey the room as if to emphasize my point. “Screw ’em. You don’t need it. Do whatever you want.”
Sloane shrugs. “It’s not a bad case. The little boy was abused and needs a guardian ad litem to represent him in the divorce action.” She thrusts the paper she’s still clutching in my direction.
As I scan the case caption, my stomach sinks. “I’m on this case.”
Eyes widening, she takes the document back from me. “You are?”
“Yes, I represent the mother. It’s a bloody awful case.”
“I’ll have to read over the files.”
I shake my head. “You absolutely shouldn’t read over the files.”
Brow furrowed, she shakes her head. “Why?”
Fuck, she really is wiped. If she were thinking clearly, it’d be as obvious to her as it is to me. So I spell it out for her. “Because you’re going on maternity leave soon. This case won’t be over by then, and when you come back to work for Murphy and Machon after maternity leave, we’ll be conflicted out of the case if we’re both on it.”
Sloane steps back. “For?”
“Yes. When you come back to work for me, I won’t be able to work on this case anymore,” I explain slowly. Surely she understands the huge implications of all of this.
“With, Sully. When I come back to work with you.”
I nod, though the anger in her tone confuses me. “Yes, same thing.”
“No, it’s not the same thing.” Frustration practically oozes from her pores.
I don’t understand why. Why would she want to stay here? Will has been bloody awful to her.
Now I’m frustrated. “Your mother is just trying to control you. Why are you allowing that?”
Sloane huffs. “She’s just watching out for me.”
“And I’m not?” I step back, heart in my throat and completely flummoxed. “You’re not staying here, Sloane. I’ve played along with this game for long enough. After our baby is born, you’re coming home.” I snap my mouth shut, instantly realizing that I’ve fucked up. It’s the damn incubator thing all over again. Fuck. “Wait.” I reach out for her. “That’s not what I meant.”
She pulls back. “This game?” Her voice is shrill, her face now red in anger. “Is that all this is to you? A damn game?” She throws her arms out, the document rustling. “This is my career, Sully? My life. For years, my career has taken a back seat to yours. I gave up everything so you could advance. When is it my turn? Why do I have to be the one to give up this opportunity? Why can’t you?”
“It’s a domestic violence case.” I rough a hand down my face. “Bloody hell, the woman needs my help.”
“Oh, but the child doesn’t need mine?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
She whips around and paces across the room, each step a staccato beat against the floor, emphasizing her anger. “No, you just meant that if it comes down to who can be more helpful, the clear answer is that it’s you. Your career comes first. Always. Your family. Your friends. Your firm. And I just work for you. In our marriage, at the firm, with our kids.” She pulls up short and stares me down. “God, how could I have been foolish enough to think you’d changed?”
I pull at my hair. How the hell did this go so off the rails? “Sloane, no. I have changed, sweetheart—”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t sweetheart me. I need—” She shakes her head. “I need space. I’m going to stay in New York tonight.”
“Then I’m staying here too. I’m not leaving you like this.”
Her eyes go hard, the blue the color of ice. “Go home to your firm, Sully. They can’t possibly survive without you. But as you proved to me every time you chose it over me, I can survive just fine on my own.”
Chapter 40
Sloane
My head is pounding. I barely slept last night. My mind was too busy running through our conversation—no, our fight—on repeat and working through what I could have done differently. Should I have agreed to turn down the appointment? Maybe.
Sully’s work is so important. I’ve always believed that, and I’ve always been incredibly proud of him. Representing domestic violence victims, especially in divorce cases, is extremely taxing. It’s noble work.
But why can’t he see that what I do matters as well? Why does it always have to be one or the other? And why, when it is, am I always the other? The one who has to bend, who has to let go of goals and dreams.
But do you even want this?
The words are a mere whisper in the back of my head, coaxing me from my anger.
God, that’s the hard part. I’m right to be angry, but do I even want the thing I’m fighting for?
What I want is for my husband to realize that my career matters too. What I want is for him to treat me like an equal. For years I gave up everything to support him and to raise T.J. I’m just asking for a little recognition. A little compromise. And partnership. In our marriage, and maybe at work too.
Maybe that’s delusional after the way I stepped back for so long. But that doesn’t stop his words from hurting, and it doesn’t excuse the way he always fails to see my worth. He used to ask for my opinion. He’d ask for my help. Now I’m no one. Just another obligation. A person to take care of. I suppose it’s better than not seeing me at all, but only marginally. I don’t want to be another thing on his agenda. I want to be his equal.
I rub at my head, and the white squiggles behind my eyelids only get worse. I really need to lie down. This feels more like a migraine than a simple headache.
But I promised Lo I would meet with this Yoga Jess girl, and I refuse to let my best friend down. I can rest afterward.
The office is abuzz with activity when I walk in, which is no surprise. It’s just a typical Wednesday in New York. No one else’s lives have gone up in flames. Hell, is my life even in flames? That’d be exciting and new. Nothing about how I feel is new. The sensations rushing through me are far too familiar for my liking, since they’ve plagued me since T. J. was a baby. Now, though, they feel more jarring. Probably because I had convinced myself that Sully had changed. That he was different. That I was different. That we were different.
“Morning, Sloane.” The greeting is echoed by person after person as I stride to my office. I nod to each one, though with every step I take, their voices grow more muffled. I need to get out of my head and focus on this meeting. I promised Lo.
“Baby mama!” Julius croons the moment I step into the entryway of our suite. Like every other day, his blond hair is slicked to the side, his jacket is perfectly pressed, and his navy pants stop at his ankle, leaving him looking like he should be heading out for a night on the town rather than stuck in this office.
“Good morning.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds despondent.
His smile falls. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Is the new client here?”
He eyes me for another second, like he wants to pry. Instead, he nods and picks up a folder from his desk. “She’s in the conference room. Want me to take your bag and bring you in a cup of tea?”
Coffee would be better, but tea will have to do. “Yes, thank you.” I slip the bag down my arm, but as I hold it out, another wave of exhaustion hits me, making me stumble. This time the squiggles in front of me move rapidly, and I sway. As I reach for the desk to steady myself, Julius lunges for my arm. “I don’t—” The rest of my words get stuck in my throat.
“Sloane,” he says, his tone panicked. He grips both of my arms, holding me up, and shouts, “Someone call 911!”
Then it all goes dark.
Chapter 41
Sully
Ididn’t go home last night. After I called Cal and filled him in, he agreed to plan a fun night for Murphy and T.J. so I could stay in the city. Then I booked a room at a hotel near the penthouse so I’d be close if my wife needed me.
Needed me? I blow out a damn breath in frustration. Why in bloody hell would she need me? She’s right. Time and again, I’ve failed her. Bloody hell, I’m the one who needs her.
She was right. She was right about everything.
Why should my career come first? My wants? My needs? Why is she the one who’s always expected to bend? To compromise?
Is it because of the way my mother would speak about my father? Did her constant derision subconsciously make me think that my dad was right to work? To prioritize his career? The way she demonized it made me glorify it, perhaps. Because my mother was awful to us when we were boys.
I despised her, and the more terrible things she had to say about Terrance Murphy, the more I wanted to be like him.
Now I realize that I don’t want to be either of them. Neither knew how to make a marriage work. Neither believed in compromise.
Though maybe my dad learned the value of it later in life. Maybe that’s why he created this damn trust. He saw I was mucking it all up, so he did this to ensure we didn’t make the same mistake he did. Yet here I am.
Because by picking my firm over my family, I did exactly what he did when he didn’t put up a fight when Mum moved us to England all those years ago.
I need to do more than tell Sloane she’s right. I need to make a change before I go to her. So I drive to Jersey the next morning, determined to get this right.
