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Those last words strike at me like a viper, because now she’s brought Gabe into it. I can fume all day long about the injustices that Marissa and Cal committed to me, and I can do whatever is necessary to ensure I don’t get hurt like that again, but I can’t take any action without considering how it is affecting Gabe.
And now, I have to truly wonder… have I inadvertently taught Gabe something wrong by my actions? I’m very careful not to bash Marissa or let Gabe know we have our differences. I mean, he’s a smart kid and he’s savvy, so I know he picks up on some stuff, but I absolutely refuse to fight with her in front of him. I’ve been protecting Gabe in that way.
But what about the things he doesn’t see? Is it harmful that he sees a father that is emotionally closed off from women? What am I teaching him by not having a stable relationship with someone? How will he even know what love looks like if I don’t show him?
My office door opens and closes, and I know Mac is gone. I stumble back from the window and fall into my chair, my heart sick that maybe I’ve f**ked up a lot more than just my own sex life, all because I was trying to protect myself.
I sit there for a long time, staring out the window and thinking about Mac… about Gabe… about Cal and Marissa. I turn my attention to many of the things that I’ve been refusing to give a moment’s attention to because it was just too hard.
Because I was too afraid of getting hurt.
A lot of good the avoidance has done for me. Because I f**king hurt pretty bad right now.
Chapter 33
This week could not get any worse. It started off with Mac walking out of my office… out of my life, and it went downhill from there.
Every night, I went home and drank myself to sleep. Every morning, I’d come into the office, growling at anyone that dared to even look at me, and would slam my office door with enough force and noise that no one would bother me. I had two motions hearings, one of which I lost, and then I lost my temper with the judge who, as a result, threatened to put me in jail. I just sneered at him and waited for him to do his worst. He denied my motion and then promptly dismissed me.
That little loss resulted in me yelling at one of the paralegals as she loitered in the lobby as I was walking back into the office from court. She was leaning across the reception desk, chatting with Bea.
“If you don’t have anything better to do than sit around and gossip all day, I’m sure I can find someone else to do your job,” I had snarled at the girls.
They both jumped as if struck by a lightening bolt, with them both stuttering out apologies and then scrambling back to work.
Mid-week, Kylie went ahead and made her move on me, and it wasn’t subtle. We were in her office, sitting side by side at her small worktable, going over exhibits. She f**king reached her hand out and put it between my legs, cupping my dick, which embarrassingly for her, stayed soft. Not embarrassingly to me, because I couldn’t give a f**k. If I can’t get it up for Mac, I really don’t feel like getting it up for anyone at this point.
I stayed soft, even after she tried to stroke me to life.
It was comical actually… watching her as she stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration, trying to figure out why I wasn’t getting hard. When she finally stopped her rubbing, she looked up at me and blanched when she saw the anger on my face.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out as she jerked her hand away. “I thought… I just… I figured if I…”
“I don’t think I need to tell you how inappropriate that was,” I said quietly, my voice rippling with menace.
“No, of course not. I guess I got some mixed signals—”
“There were no f**king mixed signals, Kylie. ”
Her face went beet red, and she started stammering more apologies. I was so pissed, mainly because after having her cup my package, it made me realize how much I missed Mac’s hands between my legs and that amped up my overall crappy attitude even further.
I simply got up and stormed out of her office, and I haven’t seen or talked to her since. I should probably fire her, but I can’t seem to get up the energy to have to face her at this point. Maybe I’ll just have Bill handle it.
This morning, I took a decisive step in trying to set my life back in order again. I f**ked things up with Mac for good, which is not surprising, seeing as how my head is still all sorts of f**ked up where she’s concerned. I’m thinking I’ve made a monumental mistake where she’s concerned, but I’m not sure how to fix it.
If I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I want to fix it. Right now, misery seems to be the best company for me. It’s certainly no more than I deserve.
So my decisive step was in the form of an email to Mac. So far, we have successfully avoided each other this week, but that’s only because both of us have been trying really hard to stay out of each other’s way. We can’t keep taking alternate routes to the break room and doing all communication through email. That’s no type of working relationship, so I decided to remove that problem.
My email to Mac this morning was simple.
Mac,
In an effort to help with the burgeoning increase in complex business cases, you are being transferred into that division under the general supervision of Bill Crown. Obviously, you will still work on the Jackson case since the clients are attached to you, but John Casting will act as your co-counsel and immediate supervisor. You can direct any and all questions to him. Finally, with the addition of Kylie Wynn to the Pearson appeal, I will not need your help on that case further.
I wish you the best of luck with these new endeavors, and I’m sure you’ll be a successful member of the complex business litigation team.
Sincerely,
Matthew Connover
That should help both of us move forward. I was sure it was the best thing for both of us. In fact, I had even talked myself into believing that this is really what Mac would want, and she’d be grateful for the reprieve.
I swear… there was absolutely no part of me that was secretly hoping she’d barge into my office after reading it and demand for me to take it back. Then she’d demand for me to kiss her… then maybe f**k her, and all would be right with us again.
Nope. No part of me that was hoping for that.
“I have some inner-office mail for you, Mr. Connover,” I hear from my doorway. It was one of several young interns we employ that do menial tasks, one of which is to ferry documents back and forth among the attorneys in the firm.
I hold my hand out to him, taking the stack and not saying a word. He quietly leaves as I flip through the stuff, seeing nothing that looks urgent.
That is until I see an envelope that says, “Matthew Connover” on the front.
The hair stands up on the back of my neck because I know… feel it in my bones, that whatever is inside is not good. In fact, I’m thinking it’s very, very bad.
Opening it up, I pull out a single sheet of paper with typewritten words on it. Smoothing it out on my desk, I read it.
Dear Matt:
Please accept this as my letter of resignation. While I have enjoyed my time here at Connover & Crown and have learned many things, I feel it is time for me to broaden my horizons elsewhere.
I will be glad to give you two weeks’ notice, however, if you prefer that I leave immediately, I would certainly understand.
Thank you for the opportunity to work for you, and I wish you and your firm all the best.
Sincerely,
McKayla Dawson
My stomach bottoms out, my blood turning icy. My chest painfully constricts as I realize… Mac is truly going to be walking out of my life for good. Before… just thirty seconds ago actually… I knew that she was still down the hallway, and I think part of me maybe even assumed that we’d get to the point that we could talk to each other again.
Never did I think that she’d leave. That I wouldn’t see her every day.
A panicky feeling settles over me as I realize that everything with Mac has just spun so quickly out of control. I’m always the person that has a firm grip on things, but now I feel like everything in my life is just turning to shit.
I stare at her resignation letter, wondering what to do. I had hoped by transferring her elsewhere, that would put enough distance between us so that she would feel comfortable staying on here. I’m thinking perhaps I misjudged Mac.
Standing up from my desk, I grab the letter and stuff it back in the envelope. This won’t do at all, I think as I head toward her office.
She’s got her back turned to me, diligently typing on her computer, but when I step in her office, she hears me and turns around.
I throw the envelope with her resignation on her desk. “What the hell is this?”
“Come on, Matt. You know what it is. ” Her voice is soft with not a hint of anger or malice. She seems a bit sad, a bit detached, but completely resolute.
“You’re resigning?” I ask for clarification, because f**k… I still can’t believe what she’s doing.
“Yes. I’ll give you two weeks’ notice or, if you want me to leave immediately, I’ll do that. I’m taking the Jackson case with me though, so please don’t think about fighting me on that. My clients won’t stay here if I’m not involved. ”
“I don’t give a f**k if you take that case,” I tell her as I wave my hand in exasperation. “I just can’t believe you’d quit. I mean… I moved you out of my section so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. I thought it would give you want you wanted. ”
Mac tilts her head and looks at me curiously. She’s trying to figure me out… figure my game. I feel like I’m about ready to explode with frustration and helplessness, but I’m not about to let her know that. I try to school my features into a visage of calm and can only hope she doesn’t see the turmoil raging inside of me.
“I’m sorry,” she says with an apologetic smile, her tone aloof and professional. “I appreciate you trying to make my work environment easier. It’s just… it’s just too hard for me to be here. Too many memories. ”
She pauses, her eyes going a bit dreamy, and then she says with a tiny smile of remembrance. “Some right in this office. ”
I can’t help but smile in memory too, thinking of that first week she worked here and I took her on her desk. Or the time I took her against her wall. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to step foot in this office again and not remember those times.
I look at her hard, searching deep for some type of lifeline she may be throwing out to me. I’m hoping her eyes will tell me something… maybe give me a reason I can beg her to say. All I see in return is a woman whose mind is made up, and I don’t think is going to spend a moment looking back over her shoulder at what she’s leaving behind.
That thought is dismally depressing, and I feel absolutely lost.
“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” I throw out, not giving a f**k if my tone is too pleading.
She seems to be considering something, but it doesn’t last more than a second. She gives a slight shake to her head. “I’m sorry. This is for the best. ”
I played football in high school, played some inter-mural in college. I’m pretty f**king competitive, and I hate losing. I hate that feeling, when the clock ticks to zero and you’re out of time to make a final, big play, and you realize that you’ve lost the game… that feeling that your stomach is bottoming out and you’re mired in anger and frustration and yeah… even sadness.
That’s what I feel right now. Game is over, and it’s time to pack up and go home.
“All right then,” I say quietly as I pick the envelope back up. “I’ll accept your resignation, and I’ll take the two weeks’ notice. That’s very professional of you to offer that. Since you’ll only be here two more weeks, obviously I won’t be transferring you over to Bill. You can help me wind up some stuff. ”