Boss Meets Her Match Page 24

  “How’d you get all this and still get here so fast?”

  “I bought it this afternoon.”

  Lena popped a small salmon roll in her mouth and chewed. Her stomach raged to life. It’d been a long, stressful day since the tiny salad she’d had for lunch. Sass hopped up on the table, her whiskers twitching. “Thanks for your confidence in me.”

  “I didn’t forget you, Ms. Sassy Pants,” Sadie said, placing a bit of tuna sashimi on the table. Sass grabbed it and ran into the kitchen.

  “I hope she eats that instead of hiding it somewhere for me to find later.”

  “Eat.”

  It felt good to let it all go for a minute. Sitting on the floor with Sadie beside her, scarfing down sushi felt like home. A smile crossed her face and she nudged Sadie with an elbow.

  “Remember the first time I took you to eat sushi and you were horrified.”

  “I remember telling you man had discovered fire so we didn’t have to eat our food raw.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Geez. I don’t know. It was right before I quit working for Marcus. So, I had to be eighteen or so.”

  “Long time ago. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “And look at us now. Still sitting on the floor, eating sushi.”

  “You and those basic avocado rolls.”

  “Hey! I’ve added tuna to my menu.”

  Lena leaned against her friend. “This hurts so bad, Sades,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  “It’s more than just Matt and his parents though. It’s me. I’m starting to think my mother is right. I should just stick with Hispanic men.”

  Sadie turned and propped her elbow on the couch cushion. “Oh?”

  Lena swirled a chopstick through the glob of untouched wasabi on her tray, trying to coalesce her thoughts. “I don’t know if I can put it into words. It’s all a jumbled-up knot in my brain.”

  “Then just start talking. We’ll figure it all out. We always do.”

  “It started when I went out to the St. Toribio mission. The kids there knew me. Knew about me. I’m some sort of role model to them and I never knew it. Because I never went back.”

  “But you are going back now. You helped with that art project and now you’re setting up more programs to reach back and help others up.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “But?”

  “It’s always there, no matter what I do. No matter how much money I make or how many charities I fund. How many people I make millionaires. It’s always there. Almost every time I meet someone for the first time, I can see the quick little surprise in their eyes. And I smile and pretend I didn’t see it. But it’s there.”

  Sadie turned to face her, her eyes troubled, her lips pressed together. “I didn’t know this.”

  Reaching across the table, Lena snagged her glass of wine. This was more painful that losing Matt. “It’s like I have different halves. I’m one person with my family. It’s easy. I don’t have to worry or think or pretend I don’t see these things. But here in town and in my business, I have to walk this line. They know I’m Hispanic but I have to be careful not to be too Hispanic.” She stopped to take a deep sip of wine to ease the painful knot in her throat. “I’m tired. I think that’s what it is. I’m just tired of it, Sadie.”

  Sadie took the wine from her hand and took her own gulp. She draped an arm around Lena’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Is it kind of like the tired I get of people asking me if I ‘test out’ the Crew before hiring them?”

  “Yeah, but you can control that. If people don’t know you run the Crew, you don’t get asked. I can’t hide my skin.”

  “True. People suck.”

  “People are the suckiest.”

  “We’re going to need bigger wineglasses,” Sadie said as she rose to her feet.

  Lena stared at her freshly manicured nails while she waited. Manicures. Pedicures. Two-hundred-dollar haircuts. Tastefully classy designer clothes. All the things she used to arm herself against the looks. And none of it mattered. It’d been a long time since reality had reached up and smacked her upside her head. She hadn’t been ready for it this time. Sadie returned with two large brandy snifters. “Those aren’t...”

  “Do you care?”

  “Not really.”

  “Up on the couch. I’m getting too damn old to sit on the floor,” Sadie said as she twisted open a fresh bottle of wine and poured a generous amount into the snifters.

  “I just don’t know what to do.”

  “About Matt or people sucking?”

  “The latter.”

  “I can’t help you with that unfortunately. But don’t keep this to yourself, Lena. I’m your best friend, sister. If you’re hurting or mad, please come to me. Even I can’t do anything but listen. I want to be there for you. And I think you and Matt need to sit down and talk.”

  “No, that’s over. It’s done.”

  “Why? Because his mother was a bitch?”

  “My mother was right. I need to stick with guys who will understand me.”

  “Last week,” Sadie said slowly, sipping more wine. “Wyatt asked me to go to a PTA meeting with him and Jules. I had a complete meltdown panic attack. He had no idea what was wrong.”

  “Me either,” Lena said, tossing Sass another bit of sashimi.

  “School and PTA are nostalgic to him. He grew up in a house in the suburbs with his mother and sister. He was in Boy Scouts. All that stuff. School was a happy place for him. To me, it means being the outsider. Being the freak foster kid who didn’t have a family. Social workers. Guidance counselors. Just because we’re both white doesn’t mean we understand each other all the time.”

  “This is different.”

  “Not from where I’m looking at it. And get that look off your face. You’ve told me plenty of things I didn’t want to hear. It doesn’t matter who you end up with, Lena, you’re going to be different. What if your Hispanic guy is a first-generation Puerto Rican? Think y’all are going to have the same experiences?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “What do you mean then? That because Matt is white and comes from money he won’t understand? Well, suck it up, buttercup. That’s called being in a relationship. I’ll give you that being with someone from another culture adds another layer of difficulty but no one is exempt from having to work on a relationship.”

  Lena drank more wine. “Go home. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  Sadie got up and went rummaging in the kitchen.

  “Get out of my kitchen too.”

  Returning with a bottle of Fireball whiskey in her hand, Sadie slammed two shot glasses down on the table. “Stop being a whiny-ass princess. Sister truth time.”

  “I’m not drinking that.”

  Sadie glared at her. “You will drink this. You will tell me the truth. I don’t care how many shots I gotta shove down your throat. You don’t get to play this game with me.”

  Lena watched as Sadie poured a hefty shot in each glass. She considered continuing to refuse but the look in Sadie’s eyes hinted that she’d probably hold her down and pour the whiskey down her throat.

  She took the offered glass. “I don’t like you anymore.”

  Sitting on the coffee table across from her, Sadie clinked her glass against Lena’s. “You don’t like having the tables turned on you. Brat. Drink. Sister truth.”

  Lena threw back the shot. “Phew. That’s got bite.”

  Sadie slowly wiped her lips. “Question—do you love him?”

  “No.”

  Sadie stood up slowly. “You just lied to me. You’ve never lied to me before.”

  Lena watche
d with growing alarm as Sadie gathered up the remains of the sushi and put it in the fridge. When she came back to the living room, she picked up her purse.

  “Wait. Stop. Sades, I’m sorry. I promise. I won’t lie again.”

  Sadie turned and Lena was shocked at the fury in her eyes. “Over the years, you’ve told me some really hard truths about myself. You’ve ripped my rationalizations to shreds and thrown them back in my face. And I never, ever, once lied to you. Because I knew you were the one person who loved me enough to tell me the truth. Now when it’s your turn to hear some truth, you are going to lie?”

  Lena felt tears gather in her eyes. Her heart and stomach writhed in shame and fear. “Sadie,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being a spoiled brat. That’s part of my problem. Don’t leave. Please.”

  Sadie dropped the purse and Lena let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, you are a brat. High maintenance and oversensitive too.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut.

  “Yeah,” Sadie said. “Keep it shut.” She crossed to the table and poured two more shots. “No more lies.”

  Lena took the shot and raised it. “No more lies.”

  Sadie curled up in the corner of the couch. “Question—do you love him?”

  Lena sat facing Sadie. Sass hopped up between them. “Yes,” she said, holding her hand out to Sass. Who sniffed it and went to sit on Sadie’s lap. Traitor.

  “Then talk to him. It sounds like his mother’s problem is really with him and she just used you to hurt him.”

  “That’s part of the problem. You know what family means to me. I know my family fights a lot, but we love each other. How can I get serious about a guy who doesn’t have that love for family?”

  “Doesn’t he?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you say he was trying to make amends with his family? That’s why you went with him over your misgivings?”

  “Yes.”

  Sadie shrugged and spread her hands. “Talk to Matt. Give him a chance.”

  “I don’t know if I can. That was...pretty awful. What she did.”

  “Matt isn’t like his mother.”

  “But she’s his mother. She’ll be part of his life.”

  “Where does Matt fall in the category of people you can be one hundred percent yourself with? And we’re still under sister-truth rules.”

  Leaning over, Lena snagged the brandy snifter full of wine. Where indeed did he fall? She knew the answer. She took a sip to hide her trembling lips but the tears splashed down her cheeks. “On your side,” she whispered.

  “Then talk to him. If you have so few people who love you one hundred percent for being exactly who you are, then you can’t afford to be throwing them aside because other people are idiots.”

  “I don’t like you very much right now.”

  “Fine. Now we’re equal. I didn’t like you very much when you told me I had to face my mother after she abandoned me to foster care and left me twisting in the wind. But it set me free. Let me love Wyatt. So there.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  HE STARED AT the expanse of white as his fury rose. How could she? The same question had been circling his brain since the disastrous dinner. He wasn’t sure what was worse. His fury at his mother or his sense of betrayal. He’d gone to them. Begged their forgiveness. And they’d accepted his apology. Agreed to begin fixing their family. And all the while, she’d been lying. Scheming a way to slide that knife between his ribs. To make him pay—for what? Being embarrassed at her garden-club meetings?

  He dropped the brush he held on the table. This wasn’t going to happen today. As he reached for the palette to clear it of the paint he’d set out, his gaze fell on the dab of ocher-red paint. He scooped up the paint with a one-inch brush and made a broad, thick swipe against the white canvas. Staring at the bloody streak stirred something in him. The cyclone of emotions—rage, loss, regret—now came together. He grabbed the tube of ocher and squeezed a large dollop on the palette. His fingers flexed on the brush handle, automatically finding the balance; the very feel of it in his hand centered him. Rage. Another red, twisting streak crossed the canvas. Thick, stark, twisted lines of pure rage.

  How dare she?

  Lena. Lost to him forever now.

  Groping for the paints, he added black and white to the palette. Thick ropy strokes of black crossed and mingled with the red in an opposing arc. He poured his feelings into the act of creation. The lines of the art were as twisted and intermingled as his tangle of emotions. Mixing the black and white to a slate gray, he filled in the holes between his anger and pain with the bleakness of loss.

  A tentative knock on the door drew him out of the painting. He glanced at the clock. It’d been an hour. He put the palette and brush down, rubbing at the cramping in the arch between thumb and index fingers. He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands as he crossed to open the door.

  The fury returned and his eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

  “To apologize,” his father said.

  Matt stood with one hand on the door, the other on the wall. Slam it. Just slam it in his face.

  “I would deserve that,” his father said as if he could read his thoughts. Maybe he could see them on his face. “If you shut that door and never spoke to us again. We’d deserve that.”

  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. In fact, you don’t need to apologize at all. Get your wife to apologize. To Lena. That was the most despicable thing she’s ever done, and you and I both know she can be vindictive. But to take it out on Lena? To use her as a weapon against me? No. I’m done.”

  Even with his fury pounding through him, Matt recognized the truth in his words. He’d never have a place in his family again. He’d be expected to show up for important events to keep up appearances, and right now, he wasn’t even sure if he’d do that. The small twinge of pain was swept away by weariness. So tired of dealing with this crap.

  “May I come in?”

  His father’s voice was soft and respectful, a tone he’d not heard ever in his entire life from the man.

  “Son?”

  Matt turned away with a heavy huff and retreated to his painting. “Say what you have to say and get out.”

  He kept his back to his father as he concentrated on cleaning the brushes he’d used. Deep breaths. Let him have his say and move on.

  “I came to apologize to you, Charles. I should have realized how angry your mother was. When you were up for your grandfather’s party and we talked, I thought we had all agreed to start with a clean slate.”

  “Yeah, well, so did I.”

  His father moved to look at the painting. “This is...powerful. You always were talented, Charles.”

  In spite of his anger, the words stirred something in him. He set a brush down carefully and looked at his father. “You’ve never told me that before.”

  Glancing around the small room, his father motioned at the two armchairs off to the side that served as his living room. “Can we sit down?”

  “Sure. I’ll have the maid bring us lunch.”

  Settling into the better-looking of the two chairs, his father shot him a look. “Don’t ruin it. I have something I want to say.”

  “Fine,” Matt said, throwing himself into the other chair. “Say it.”

  “I was wrong. I see that now. When you were having your difficulties, I was feeling much the way you were then. I’d just taken over the firm. I had two generations of expectations weighing down on me. I wanted to make the company my own.”

  “And you did.”

  “Yes, but now I see that you, with your art, were only trying to do the same thing. Leave your mark in this world. It was never going to be the firm. And that angered me back then. Becaus
e I’d dutifully just followed along with what was expected of me. I’d never considered the fact that I could have chosen to do something else. If I’d only had the courage to rebel like you did.”

  Sitting straighter, Matt turned to face the man. “In all fairness, back then, I didn’t have a clue what I was rebelling against. I just knew I didn’t want to be a lawyer. Live the life I watched you living.”

  “I see that now. I only wish I’d seen it sooner. We might not have lost all those years.”

  Matt nodded and swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “Now, about your mother.”

  Emphatically shaking his head, Matt raised a hand. “No. I’m not even going to discuss it. Thank you for accepting my life choice and respecting it, but I am in no way about to forgive her for what she did.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to. After you two left, I asked her what was wrong with her. The thing is that I never realized how much of an impact it had on her when you acted out in high school and then left. I had the firm. I was respected for that. All she has is her society friends. And apparently, they were very unkind to her about this. She felt a laughingstock.”

  “No. She’s my mother. She should have told them to shut the hell up. It shouldn’t have mattered if a few rich old biddies gossiped about me. It’s not like I killed anyone drunk driving like what’s-her-name’s kid that got off scot-free due to his father’s deep pockets and team of lawyers.”

  Leaning forward, clasping his hands and staring down at the floor, his father nodded. “You’re right.” He sounded so very tired. He looked up. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve built a good life that’s of service to others. I understand if you don’t want to be involved with the family. But I’ll also be sorry.”

  Matt rubbed his face and leaned back in the chair. Shit. What he’d always wanted. His father’s acceptance. And it had cost him Lena.

  “I love her, Dad.”

  “How can I help make this right, then?”