I can't bear to stay at the gala after Matty nearly caught us in the hallway. What happened with Ty was too intense for me to just go back up there and make small talk. I tell Ben and the execs I need to focus on a client, remind everyone how much time I spend bailing the Fury out of the drunk tank, and I leave to high fives and martini salutes. Ben and I share a cab back to Stag Law and work on the Cavs presentation for awhile.
"I'm sorry I took you from your celebrity hockey party," I say.
He shrugs. "Plenty more where that came from. What do you think about these numbers for workers comp claims?" We work for a few more hours and eventually I take a cab home, worn out. I feel empty inside and barely sleep.
When I finally drift off around dawn, I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand. Another set of texts from Ty.
U up? Need 2 talk
Also this. He sent a link to a series of studies about birth control and performance in female athletes. Something about fewer knee injuries.
I roll my eyes and send back, ok ok I get it. You like it bareback. I flush thinking about what happened between us last night. How raw his want for me was and how much I responded to him. I was out of my mind with passion. It was a totally new level for me, even with Ty.
Just looking out for ur rowing, babe. Call me, though. Important.
Is this a thing I do now? Call up Ty and let him call me babe over text message? I sigh and dial his number. He answers on the first ring, like he’s sitting there waiting for me to call. “Good morning, gorgeous. Did you shower yet?”
“What? Why?”
“Just wondering if you’ve still got me all over your beautiful backside.”
“Jesus, Ty. You’re disgusting. You’re lucky you didn’t stain my gown.” I blush again, remembering his finale in the stairwell.
“I would buy you a new one. It was worth it. Anyway, listen. Something happened.”
I remember that Matty had walked into the stairwell just after we had finished fucking, but I feel pretty sure he hadn’t seen anything definitive. “What?” My voice is hesitant, but doesn't shake as much as my hands.
“I mean, you know Matty knows. But he’s not the problem.”
“What are you talking about, Ty?”
“We’re on TMZ.”
I feel like my insides are turning out. I start to hyperventilate. I’m going to lose my job and I'm going to get disbarred. “Juniper!” I realize Ty must have been calling out to me.
“I’m here. What are we going to do? There's going to be a fucking ethics review, Ty.”
“We’re going to talk with Tim. Matty says he thinks it’ll be ok. Listen, since everyone knows about us anyway, do you want to come have breakfast with me and my grandma? She can meet you as my girlfriend.”
“Ty, this is all really fast for me. I don’t share your confidence that Tim is going to be ok with this and--”
“Just come over for pancakes. Tim is holed up with Alice getting ready for the Cavs on Monday. I promise he’s not looking at the celebrity gossip.”
I snort. Tim is a maniac about that contract with Cleveland. I want to tell Ty that I need to be working on it, too, but I don't want that client. I don't want to work this weekend. I want to go eat pancakes with my boyfriend and his grandmother, and I start crying into the phone from all the stress of the whole situation.
"Hey, Junebug. Hey. Don't shut me out this time. Don't run away from me. Do you want me to come get you? Let me take care of you today."
When he talks to me, his voice as smooth as maple syrup, I feel safe. He makes me think it can somehow all be ok. That I can be a person who eats weekend pancakes with my lover and his grandma. Some sort of fantasy orphan chicks don't even dare to utter out loud. And yet he's right there on the other end of the phone assuring me it's all real. "No, I'll be ok," I sniffle. "When should I come over?"
"I smell bacon, Junebug. You better hurry before I eat it all."
A half hour later, I find myself parked outside the Stag family home, still on the verge of hyperventilating. As I ring the doorbell, I realize I shouldn’t be officially meeting his grandmother wearing sweatpants. Why didn't I stop to change? Or buy flowers? The door opens.
“Juniper! Dear! Come inside.” Anna Stag ushers me into the house before I can apologize for my informality. “When Tyrion told me he wanted to introduce me to the woman who makes him mopey, I was hoping it would be you!”
“Mopey?” Does everyone in this family speak in code, I wonder. She pulls me into the kitchen and hands me a mug of coffee, hollering for Ty to come down and greet his “own damn girlfriend.”
He pulls me in for a kiss and I stiffen instinctively, forgetting that I’m here to discuss a plan to go public with our relationship. He rubs my back and I relax into his arm, clutching the caffeinated brew. Once I finish the coffee, I feel like I can concentrate enough to ask questions. “Did you say Tim was with Alice this weekend? Why would they be together preparing for the meeting? Unless…"
Mrs. Stag smiles as she flips pancakes into the air. Ty nods. “Oh, big time. He thinks we don’t know, but Gram saw him over at her house a bunch of times playing with her nephews.”
“I can’t…” I try to imagine my stern boss playing with children and come up at a loss. “That sounds so unlike him. But you know, Alice has been on the verge of telling me something for a month now. Huh. Tim and Alice.”
“Try these, dear,” Mrs. Stag says, sliding me a plate of pancakes. “I know Tyrion said you worry about your food, too, so I added flax and buckwheat to these.”
I taste a forkful of the pancakes, and I melt into my stool at the counter. “These are amazing, Mrs. Stag.”
She pats my hand. “You should have been calling me Anna a long time ago, dear. And I got these recipe ideas from Alice.”
As I eat, Ty and his grandma talk about how they think we should use Tim’s secret relationship to our advantage. I’m not really comfortable with the idea of capitalizing on something like this, but Ty says we’re not going to blackmail him. “No way, JJ. I’m going to explain that I couldn’t help but fall for you, like he couldn’t help but fall in love with Alice. Like a--what’s that called, Gram?”
“It’s an analogy, dear,” she says, smiling.
I shake my head. “I think you’re both being naive about this.” I can’t stop eating the delicious pancakes and Ty’s grandma slides me a plate of bacon. “But I do think you’re right that he won’t notice this happened until at least after the meeting on Monday.”
Ty and his grandmother both start to talk about how much they hate the idea of him expanding the firm too fast, too big. Ty gets especially angry when I mention that Tim implied I might have to do some travel to service the new clients if we land the deal. I sit in the kitchen with them for hours, talking and eating, until I realize I’ve nearly missed my morning opportunity to row before all the beer cruise boaters get reckless on the river. I excuse myself to go train, and allow myself to savor the comfortable, familiar feeling of kissing Ty by my car before driving away. Could this be my future, I wonder. It feels too good to be true.
I stay up late Sunday preparing for Monday’s meeting, and enter it with a heavy heart. I don’t want it to be successful, and yet I can’t allow myself to perform poorly on purpose. The morning of, I climb into my best power suit, complete with heels. I like to look as tall as possible when I'm presenting for a crowd. I am at eye level with the suits when we shake hands in the hall at work. Tim seems delighted. I feel distracted throughout the budget presentation and when Tim takes the lead to discuss numbers, individual athlete contracts, and injury clauses, I notice that Alice looks practically grey as she passes out trays of food in the conference room.
I try to catch her attention to ask if she’s ok, when I see her start to faint. Then, all hell breaks loose at the office.