From Now On

Sophie

This was a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. Talking to him again was a mistake. Lying in the first place was a mistake. I’m on a roll. So I can keep rolling, or I can put an end to the charade.

I prop my elbows on the table and rest my face in my hands. That lasts for two seconds before I paint my confidence back on. “Fine. He’s not my boyfriend.”

Boyd’s expression is a mixture of victorious and hurt. “So, this serious boyfriend you have?”

This is not going to bode well for getting him into Henry’s office.

“I lied.”

Boyd leans back in his chair, all traces of victory having disappeared. “Why? I mean, if you didn’t want to go out with me, you could have said no.”

“It’s complicated. Not to be cliche, but it’s not you. I have…” No, I’m not going to dive into my dating history or my perpetual need to maintain my father’s approval. “My reasons.”

“Reasons. Ones that justify lying instead of being a decent adult?”

His characterization of my response makes me clench my teeth. With them still gritted, I reply, “In all fairness, I don’t know you from Adam. So as far as I know, women are within their rights to refuse a date, however they see fit.”

“That’s my point. You could have said no for any reason. Why did you lie?”

He won’t understand. Unless someone has direct experience with someone like my father and all of his cronies, they don’t get to judge me for my decisions. I can’t exactly say ‘because you’re a barista,’ because that lacks a lot of context. Saying that makes me sound like a pretentious princess who won’t date outside of her tax bracket. That’s not the reason. Well, it is, but it isn’t. And yes, I could have just said no. I wish I did. But at the moment, I was more concerned about sparing his feelings and thought that was the safest bet. Apparently not.

“It’s complicated.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, mirroring my gesture from moments ago. “So uncomplicate it. You want me to meet your father? I want the truth. Or is that something your family is incapable of?” Boyd cringes at his words and starts to sputter a lame apology, but I cut him off.

“You’ve obviously made up your mind, and I’m just wasting my time here.” I fish out a five-dollar bill from my purse and drop it on the table because there’s no way I’m allowing him to pay for my drink. I will not owe him for anything. “I’m sure you have more important things to be doing than wasting your time with a liar.”

“Soph—”

“No, you’ve formed an opinion. About me, the job, and my father. But he’s the one thing you’re not wrong about.” I stand with enough determination this stupid thousand-pound chair can’t stop me. The iron scrapes across the brick patio, punctuating my movement with a wretched metal grinding sound.

Boyd doesn’t move or say another word. My inner monologue is screaming to rip into him about why I lied. Why I turned him down, even though I wanted to say yes. There’s no way I can formulate the words to make them sound better. It’s not a situation that can be explained in a few words, because my family dynamic requires a college-length essay to summarize the complexity of it. My dating experience is its own psychological journal, awaiting analysis.

But my traitorous mouth can’t rein it in. “I’ve been in a lot of one-sided relationships. Ones where guys in dead-end jobs see me as a meal ticket or an easy route to a better job they don’t have to work for. I promised myself and my brother that I wouldn’t get sucked into another situation like that.”

I watch as Boyd flashes through a few unreadable expressions before he stands and levels me with a glare, his jaw protruding forward slightly, which makes his feelings very readable. “You said no because you thought I was a deadbeat who would use you for a job?”

“Not exactly, no. I said no because I learned the hard way that most guys aren’t interested in me. They’re drawn—”

“Guys in dead-end jobs?” His words drip with so much anger, I’m worried we’re attracting a crowd, but only a few passersby turn their head our way and continue walking.

I knew if I tried to explain, it would come out wrong. “That’s not the whole—”

“Wow. I can’t believe I asked you out in the first place. Thanks for helping me dodge that bullet. Since I’m a lowly barista.” He scoffs and steps back, turning to face the sidewalk.

Surprisingly, tears burn my eyes, but they’re nothing to do with Boyd. They’re because I fear failing my father, and I’ve royally screwed up. Just like he probably anticipated I would.

“That’s not fair.” My voice is weak, trying to defend myself. “What do you want from me? You’re mad I lied; okay, I get that. But you’re mad I told the truth, too?”

He takes another step away, then spins back to face me. “I’m not mad at you for either. I’m mad at myself for thinking you were different.”

There’s a note of anguish in his voice that spurs my outrage over the situation. He’s talking as if our brief conversations warrant me being labelled as a villain. “It must be nice to live in a black and white world, Boyd. Not all of us have that luxury. You have no idea what it’s like for me. Why I reacted the—”

“You turned me down because you assumed I didn’t have a six-figure job. Got it.”

We stare at each other for a moment, but a couple exits the coffee shop to find a seat on the patio.

Despite the hurt and anger I’m feeling, I won’t leave without saying one last thing. I step forward so I can keep my voice low. “You have no idea what my life is like or what I’ve had to overcome. What I still face every single day. You might see one thing, but I promise, it’s not the entire picture. So yeah, I’m sorry I lied, but it was never because I’m a wretched gold digger who can’t see beyond someone’s job.”

He scrubs his hands over his face before tucking them both into the pockets of his pants. “I never said you were.”

“You implied it,” I snap.

Whatever my feelings are about this interaction, I do respect that this is his job and I won’t put that in jeopardy.

“Thanks for the coffee.” I brush past him towards the opening in the ornate iron railing separating the patio from the sidewalk, and march down the street to my SUV.

I’m upset about the interaction, but another thought dominates my consciousness. Henry McNamara is not going to be happy.

I don’t know how to face my father. Rather, my boss. If he was just my father, I wouldn’t fear him as much, but it’s a different story when he holds my future over my head. Like I’m strapped into a guillotine and I don’t know when it will drop.

Andy pokes his head back in my office after leaving moments ago to complete the task I asked him about. “He’s expecting you in five minutes.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

To give myself extra time to gather my thoughts, I stroll down the hallway earlier than necessary. The hours between my disaster meeting with Boyd yesterday and arriving at work this morning have only amplified my anxiety. I brace myself for the uncomfortable conversation that needs to happen, but I’m not prepared for. It will just get harder the longer I put it off, though, so I better break the news.

“Hi, Joel. Can I go in?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s expecting you.” He leans over and whispers, “He’s in a good mood today. Try not to spoil it.”

I swallow hard. Joel is a nice guy. I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m about to make his day a whole lot worse, so I give him a weak smile and scurry past. I take a deep breath as I open the door, and find Henry McNamara smiling as he hangs up his phone.

It’s unnerving.

“Sophie, come in.” Not only is he smiling. He’s welcoming me.

My good sense says I should take off at a run in the opposite direction, pack my bags, and move to Nunavut. I’m sure their remote areas could benefit from my expertise, and I’ve always loved polar bears.

My pride won’t allow that. “I went to speak with Mr. Edwa—”

“I know. He told me you were persuasive. He’s coming in to meet with me at four.”