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“I told you I’m not going,” I objected.
Sooner or later the truth had to win out.
“Enjoy London,” she said as she shut the door behind her.
The truth hadn’t won today.
I slumped into the leather chair, and my eyes welled up. This was all fucked up, and I didn’t understand why.
Her words had pierced my heart and broken me.
I’d ruined things with her. The one thing in my life I had to get right, and I’d screwed it all up.
Benson men didn’t cry, not ever, Dad had drilled that into us. We persevered, we overcame, we conquered, and we won. I was failing at that part of being a Benson as well.
Chapter 40
Josh
After I had my wits about me again, a quick call to Bob Hansen took care of my first concern: Nicole’s safety.
He agreed to task Constance and Winston with watching over her until I figured out how to get her back, how to convince her I was staying—staying for her, staying because of her.
But I couldn’t answer Bob’s question about how long the assignment would be. Without a plan, I had no clue.
I paced the long windows in my apartment and searched the vista for a plan. Looking over the city spread out into the distance usually gave me inspiration. Today, not so much. I didn’t see order in the layout; I saw a jumble, just like my thoughts.
Concentrate, dammit.
Analyze the problem, deduce options, be decisive, pick the optimal solution. That system had always worked for me. There had to be a way. Treat this like any textbook problem—that had to work. The system,mysystem worked. I knew it. First make a plan, then execute, and don’t dawdle.
I went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out my best bottle of scotch. After tasting the Macallan 1926 that Dennis had brought as a peace offering for Adam, I’d added that to my cabinet. It was surely the drink for today. I poured two fingers and took a sip.
Dumb fucking move.
I spit it back in the glass. Some landed on the floor and some on my shirt.
Another dumb fucking move.
I fetched a paper towel, cleaned up the floor, capped the bottle, and put it away.
I needed clarity, not a buzz.
Verbalize the problem, verbalize the solution. Execute.
“Think,” I said out loud.
The problem came first.What is the problem?The problem was that my girl—scratch that; she hates it when I call her that—my woman thought I was leaving her to go to London. She believed the paper she’d read, the damned folder Dad had made to keep me tethered to the company. Thesuccession plan, he called it. Theprobation documentwas more like it.
It had been a low blow to bring it to Kelly’s party. Dad knew I wouldn’t dare create a scene in front of the entire family. If I’d refused, he’d have made sure it exploded in my face in front of everyone. That day, I’d had only one objective: to make the party a great welcome for the two newcomers. Adam, because Kelly deserved it, and Nicole, because she was the best thing to ever happen to me. Signing his stupid folder was the price to pay at the time to ensure a smooth event, and I’d do it again if I had to.
Why didn’t Nicole believe me when I said I’d fix this? She didn’t understand how much I loved her. This had all happened so fast. We hadn’t had enough time together for her to comprehend it all.
Women were supposed to get that stuff, though. Why hadn’t she understood? Wasn’tthatthe problem? She couldn’t sense it clearly enough. I hadn’t done enough for her. Maybe I should have sent Wenzel packing to tamp down the Smith’s anxiety? Maybe I should have said out loud that I didn’t think a merger with Smith’s would work as soon as I’d seen how flawed Harold’s suggestion was? Maybe I should have suggested converting the Smith’s stores to the Rossi’s format? That would have shown her how much I cared.
Should I have sent more flowers? Well, that’s pretty much always a yes. More flowers, check.
That, I could solve right now. After a little begging and an extra fee, I convinced the flower shop near her to deliver two dozen red roses this evening.
