Читать книгу Boss Meets Her Match - Janet Nye Lee - Страница 16

CHAPTER EIGHT

“A LITTLE FARTHER off our beaten path,” Lena said as she slid into the booth at The Glass Onion. She and Sadie usually met in the Avondale area for their weekly Wednesday-night dinners.

“I was craving shrimp and grits.”

“They serve wine here?”

“Yes. So, you seem to be in a better mood than last week. Did your family let you off the hook after the what-was-his-name fiasco?”

“No. I have another date on Saturday. This time with a doctor that my aunt Paula set me up with.” She smiled. A pretty, vacuous smile. “I’m just going to spend the entire night making this face.”

They gave the waitress their order. Two shrimp and grits and a bottle of chardonnay. Sadie leaned back in the booth and looked at her.

“What?”

“I just feel like this is my fault.”

Lena shook her head. “No, it isn’t.”

“But it is, Lena.” Sadie leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table. “Do I need to get some shots and make you sister swear?”

Lena looked down at the table and spun her napkin wrapped silverware in a circle. Thing was, Sadie was right. But she wasn’t going to be the one to rain on her wedding. Sadie’s hand covered hers.

“Lena.”

“Okay. Yes. No. It’s complicated.”

Sadie laughed, drawing the eyes of a couple of men sitting nearby. “I’d expect no less from you than complicated. Look. I’ve got some conflicted feelings about this too. You were always the one who wanted to find the guy and get married. Have kids and all that junk. Not me.”

“Yet, here you are, deliriously happy. Wedding planning. Instant family.”

“Yes. And I feel guilty about it sometimes.”

Lena frowned and leaned forward to take both Sadie’s hands in hers. “Look at me, Sades.” When Sadie’s dark blue eyes met hers, she squeezed her hands. “Don’t do that. Never. I am beyond happy for you. You are more than my best friend. You’re my sister.”

A weak smile trembled on Sadie’s lips. “But still. I just fell into this and now your family is driving you crazy.”

“And that’s my problem. Not yours. Your problem is that my mother is trying to hijack your wedding plans.”

Sadie sat back with a groan. “That’s the truth. Have you seen her Pinterest board? It’s like Catholic tradition met upscale elegance and had a country-kitsch baby. It’s a horror show.”

“Can you imagine how she’s going to be if I get married?”

“When you get married. Tell me about this date.”

Their wine arrived and Lena poured a healthy glassful. “I don’t know. He’s a doctor. Cuban by the accent, I think. Sort of cute. Seemed embarrassed that Paula ambushed us both.”

“Are you going to be nice? Not rip his throat out in the first five minutes like you did with poor what’s-his-name?”

Taking a long sip of wine, Lena arched an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she said.

But Sadie didn’t laugh. A small frown crossed her features. “Come on. Sister, truth—you can be very intimidating. And sometimes you use it like a weapon. Especially with men.”

“Men piss me off more than anyone else.”

She meant it to come out snarky, but even she couldn’t deny the undercurrent of anger in her words. She didn’t know why it was true. But it was. If it wasn’t some white dude trying to satisfy a Latina fetish, it was some jerk trying to assert dominance.

“Because you let them do that, Lena. You jump on anything. One misspoken word. One perceived insult and you come out swinging.”

“Now you’re being irritating.”

“I don’t care,” Sadie said, pouring more wine into her glass. “You told me a lot of things I didn’t want to hear. Your turn.”

“So what do you want me to do? Be nice when some guy asks me if it’s true that Latina women are hot in bed?”

“No. That guy you can eviscerate. But yeah, be nice. Give a guy a chance to prove himself.”

Lena looked up gratefully as the waitress brought their food. “Thank you,” she said. Unrolling her silverware, she concentrated on the shrimp and grits. Okay. Mean. Not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m not mean. I just don’t play games. She sighed and dropped her spoon to the plate. “I’m mean.”

“No. You can be. But you aren’t mean. Not the real you. It’s just a wall you put up. See who’s brave enough to scale it.”

“I’m a bitch.”

“A strong, independent woman who has overcome obstacles that would have crippled most men. Successful. Beautiful. Savvy.”

“I’m a mean bitch.”

“Lena. Stop it. Listen to me. You are not a mean bitch. You just play one on dates.”

That made her smile. It hurt to look at it, but it was true. She had left a long trail of bleeding men behind her. She ate a few more bites of shrimp. Thinking back, most of them hadn’t been bad guys but she always managed to find something wrong with them. Maybe it is me. Maybe I make up reasons to push them away. More like send them running away.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Sadie said. “Just like there was nothing wrong with me. You just haven’t met your guy yet.”

Lena shook her head. “No. That’s not it. I don’t think I can do the serious relationship thing. I’m too much of a control freak. I have to be in charge. But then I don’t like a man who lets me be in charge. And then I get furious when a man tries to be in charge. See?”

“That’s because being in charge isn’t part of a healthy relationship, Lena. Being equal partners is.”

Snagging her wineglass and leaning back in her seat, Lena mulled over those words. Equal partners. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I think I have a trust problem.”

“Trust as in ‘depend on’?” Sadie asked.

“No. Trust in myself.”

She leaned forward, resting her forearms along the table. The moment was so alive in her memory that she could still feel the sting of his palm across her cheek. The shame was still so great that she’d never told anyone except her mother. Not even Sadie.

Sadie leaned in closer. “Tell me.”

“I was in love. Head over heels, down the rabbit hole, don’t care about anything anyone says, this is my soulmate in love. Until he slapped me. Because I wasn’t ready to sleep with him.”

The slap had been completely unexpected. So out of character. It had taken her breath away. That moment and the rapid shift from shock to disbelief to heartbreak may have only lasted a few seconds in real time. But its legacy lived on in her behavior.

“That’s what it is?” Sadie asked softly. “That’s your trigger?”

She looked up into Sadie’s eyes. “I think so. I know that was the moment when I realized I couldn’t truly count on anyone except myself. When I got serious about school and college and getting myself and my family out of the constant fear and uncertainty of poverty.”

“And now that you’ve accomplished that goal, that incident has changed from being an incentive to being a hindrance?”

Lena brought her hands up and pressed her fingers against her lips. That was it. That single-minded drive that allowed her to ignore naysayers and overcome every obstacle had nothing to do now that she’d reached her goal and was in a place of safety. Sadie’s completely right.

“How do I change it though?”

“First step is realizing it,” Sadie replied. “I’m no expert, but I think the next step is recognizing when your feelings are coming from that trigger.”

“Oh. Easy.” Lena snapped her fingers. “Okay. Done. Next.”

Sadie took a sip of wine and raised her eyebrows. “See? That? That was the trigger. You realized you have emotional work to do so you went straight to sarcasm and being flippant.”

She wanted to be angry. It was right there, brimming at the back of her throat but she pushed it down. How did Sadie do it? She was right. Again. She picked up her fork and began pushing grits around on the plate. “I’m tired of this, Sadie. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You’ve already begun. You’re tired because you’ve just realized the weight of this trigger you’ve been carrying for all these years.”

“But what’s next?”

Sadie shrugged. “For me, it was like I saw a truth about myself, and then I couldn’t unsee it. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

Sadie pressed her lips together and stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Lena. “Like when I went to Asheville with Wyatt to meet his sister’s friend, the one who was willing to take Jules if Wyatt couldn’t. She and her family are like a second family to Jules. I was feeling scared and threatened. Before I faced my abandonment issue, I would have done or said something to alienate her, to push her away before she could reject me. Now I know that it was normal and okay to feel nervous about meeting someone new and that they might actually like me.”

Lena nodded. “I understand that. But I don’t know. Maybe I should cancel my date with the doctor. He might be a nice guy. Maybe I shouldn’t date until I figure all this out.”

“I think you should keep the date. Like a test run for when you meet a guy you really like.”

“Test run. How romantic. I don’t know. Just thinking about being set up like this makes me mad.”

“Raise your right hand,” Sadie ordered.

“What? No. We are in public.”

“Levanta tu mano derecho.”

“Jesucristo, your Spanish sucks. How can you be so bad at it after all these years?”

“Your hand’s still on the table.”

She lifted her hand. “Okay. Fine. My hand is in the air.”

“Repeat after me—I will not be mean on my date with the doctor.”

“I will not be mean on my date with the doctor.”

“See? Easy.”

“Unless he deserves it.”

* * *

SATURDAY MORNING, MATT Cruised the bike along Rutledge Avenue, Colonial Lake providing a small breeze across its concrete hemmed water. He stood on the bike pedals, powering across Broad Street to the quiet and shady streets of the promised land of Charleston real estate: South of Broad. Taking a long, lazy left, he slowed as he made his way up Tradd Street, not exactly sure which of the multimillion-dollar, perfectly restored antebellum mansions belonged to Dr. Rutledge. That he’d just pedaled up a street named for the doctor’s family reminded him that while Eliot’s patronage was welcome if only to help the nonprofit become a reality sooner, it placed him squarely in the middle of that upper-class society that he’d run away from before.

The flash of a white BMW door and a swing of black hair ahead caught his eye. His heart jumped a few more notches and a shiver of pleasure danced along his nerves, twisting his lips into a smile. Well, well, well. Ms. Magdalena Reyes. Had Eliot gotten her involved in the project? He sat up, coasting past the last few lawns, watching her as she smoothed down the brick red skirt she wore. A casual print T-shirt topped the skirt. A thick black belt at her waist accentuated her curves. She leaned in, checking her reflection in the window. A small smile crossed her lips. Why not? She was drop-dead gorgeous and she knew it.

He made a quick turn up the sidewalk at the neighbor’s driveway and braked on the sidewalk by her car. Pulling off his sunglasses, he smiled at her. “Ms. Reyes. Imagine meeting you here.” He laughed as a scowl replaced her self-satisfied little smile.