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I know I pay him to be right.
But I don’t need him to be right at this moment.
I need him to be wrong.
I need him to be full of shit, so that when I step foot outside the estate for all the world to see, I know it’s being done for the right reasons.
For my company’s best interest.
“You should be back in the office,” J.T. swiftly states with an innocent shrug. “You belong there. They want you there. We want you there. You’re the only one who thinks your face has no place amongst the shareholders.”
I sheepishly nod at the same time I quietly concur, “I know.”
“And I know that that place you’re avoiding is the most important place you could ever go.” One hand plops itself on my black dress shirt covered shoulder. “Schedule that meeting, Mr. Wayne.” An arrogant, playful grin transitions into place. “I’ve got all the others handled.”
His smile inspires my own to make an appearance as well as me to step away to make other arrangements.
Initially, giving Brynley space seemed like the correct decision.
She was owed that.
The right to be pissed.
The right to be furious.
The right to hate me for the pain I caused.
However, instead of feeling like those emotions are subsiding, there’s this gut sensation that’s impossible to ignore.
It’s the same one I get when there’s something about a deal I can’t trust.
Or an employee I don’t want hired.
It’s an instinct.
And my instinct is telling me that any more time apart will result in our comic arc being over before it was ever really given a chance to truly start.
Early afternoon somehow arrives both too quickly and not quickly enough. Time seems to pass slowly and speedily between word searches and rehearsed speeches and encouraging smiles from Lauren and Clark alike.
By the time I’m standing outside The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute, reaching for the doorhandle, doing my best to steady my shaking grip, I can hardly breathe.
Everything feels wrong.
Off.
The sun beating down on the back of my head is too hot.
The downtown traffic we’re right on the outskirts of is too loud.
People passing by are too close.
They’re too far.
Too much.
Whatever air is in my lungs begins to vacate without vacillation leaving me in a state of hyperventilation.
I can’t do this.
