“Um, no.” Alex’s gaze slides over my shoulder to the view of the skyline.
“Oh, too bad. Why didn’t she come?”
“Uh, not sure,” he says, turning to take our drinks from the bartender.
I cock my head, trying to meet his gaze. “Maybe I’ll meet her next time.”
“Maybe.” Alex hands me my drink, but still doesn’t make eye contact. I watch him scan the crowd, almost like he’s looking for someone to save him. It takes a minute, but when it comes to me, a knot forms in my gut.
“I’m not going to meet her, am I?” I slowly shake my head. “Because you didn’t actually hire her.”
Alex sets his old-fashioned down on the bar. “Look…”
“Oh God.” I didn’t think it could get worse, but it just got worse. “You hired Brett instead, didn’t you?”
Alex clears his throat. “There were a lot of factors that went into the decision.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Did you even talk to Zach about hiring her? Or was that just something you said to get me to be quiet?”
Alex sighs like he wishes he could get me to be quiet right now. “I’m doing what I can, but there’s only so much I have control over. You don’t know what the culture is like in an industry like finance.”
“Right,” I say. “I have no idea about sexist workplaces. Are you kidding? I’ve spent my entire career in restaurant kitchens where women are treated like second-class citizens. But just because something is ‘the culture’ doesn’t mean you just sit down and accept it.”
I can still feel Rob Thurmond’s hand on my ass. How many times did those other men around the table look the other way and let him get away with touching women like that? With treating women like that? Maybe they even did it themselves because “the culture” told them it was okay. I look at Alex. “You have the power to push back and change things.”
Alex scrubs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking out on one side. I’d normally fix it for him because I know he’d hate to look messy at a work event. But right now, all I can think is Good.
“When you’re a professional, there are conventions you follow,” he says. “You can’t just make a scene if you don’t like how something is done.” He glances around us, probably to make sure we’re not making a scene.
Right now, I’m beyond caring about scenes. “I’m sorry, can we go back a minute? What do you mean by ‘when you’re a professional’？”
“I—” Alex stalls, and he seems to realize what he’s said.
“You mean like you have a real job and I don’t.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What did you mean?”
He presses on his temples as if that might hold back his frustration. Then he drops his hands to his side and turns to me with his eyes flashing. “You make pastries, Sadie. You’re very good at it. But it’s not the same. I’m dealing with millions of dollars of my clients’ money on a daily basis.”
I stumble backward in the Louboutins and—seriously, fuck these shoes—almost end up on my ass. “Honestly, Alex. In all these years, I had no idea this is what you thought of my job.” I slap my designer purse down on the bar. “Is that what the clothes, jewelry, and everything is about? If we were to get more serious, were you expecting that I’d give up being a pastry chef to be your Wall Street wife?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “I didn’t expect you to give it up. But there are all sorts of ways you can bake without having to work all the time.”
“So, you’re saying I could bake as… a hobby.” My stomach churns like I swallowed a ball of raw sourdough, and I’m overcome by a feeling of déjà vu. This time, it’s not because I’ve been at this party before, or because I’ve had this conversation with Alex before. It’s because I’ve had a version of this fight with my parents a thousand times since I was a kid. I never thought that Alex felt the same way.
No wonder my parents love him so much.
My feet are killing me from standing in these heels, the lace on my dress is making me itch, and I’m too tired to argue anymore. “Okay, I’m going.”
“Sadie, wait.” Alex shifts his body so he’s between me and the door. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”
I hesitate, and he flashes me that Midwestern farm boy grin. The one he uses to charm people into doing things for him. The one that gets him out of trouble. The one that dismisses all of my feelings.
“Come on,” he says buoyantly. “Let’s get another drink and enjoy this beautiful night.”
I close my eyes. I don’t know what I’m doing here. In this conversation, this party. In this second chance year. It was supposed to be different. Why does it seem like I just keep making mistakes?
“I can’t do this.”
Alex’s smile fades. “What does that mean?”
“This isn’t working anymore.” I pull my hand from his and pick up my purse. “I should go.”
“Wait.” His spine goes straight. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“I…” I hesitate. After everything I did to hold on to this relationship, am I breaking up with him? “I think I am.”
Alex shakes his head. “You’re not seriously going to end this relationship over a silly hiring issue at my company, are you?”
And right there lies the problem. That’s what he thinks this is about.
“I’m sorry, Alex.” I don’t fit into this world, and maybe I never will. With that, I kick off my shoes, turn toward the door, and hobble slowly across the roof deck with as much grace as I can muster.
Chapter 20
August
Needless to say, I’m not looking forward to dinner with my parents. The memory of their disappointment at my inability to hold on to a great guy is still raw from the first time around. When Alex and I broke up during my Very Bad Year, my dad couldn’t speak for over an hour, and I’m pretty sure my mom cried in the bathroom. I’m not in the mood to sit through round two of that scenario, especially because they’ll try to convince me to get back together with him.
I’m feeling vulnerable enough that I just might do it.
In a complete reversal from my Very Bad Year, Alex has been calling and begging me to get back together with him. So far, I’ve been muting his calls and sending him to voicemail. But I loved him for years, and I admit that when I hear that familiar voice asking for a second chance, it’s hard to not be swayed. So, when I find my parents’ table at Russo’s and my dad’s first question is, “Where’s Alex?” I avoid eye contact and mumble that he had to work.
It’s not a total lie. I mean, Alex probably is at work.
Luckily, Owen shows up before they can ask any more questions. “Hey,” my brother says, coming up to the table from behind me. My mom jumps up to give him a hug, and then instead of sitting down, she reaches for someone else.
“You brought Jacob! How wonderful to see you, honey!”
I spin in my seat as Jacob is released from my mom’s embrace and leans over to shake my dad’s hand. Owen grabs the seat at the head of the table, which means Jacob ends up directly across from me.