Page 24 of Minha Dona

But Caitlin could have caught up with Helena at the reception, in the sessions, over coffee between panels. She didn’t need to suggest a private drink after the welcome dinner. She’d specifically carved out time, just for them out of all the people that would be there.

Or she’s being friendly. She’s a partner now, she knows you’re attending, she’s being collegial. Don’t build castles on a text message.

Helena lifted her phone again and looked at the message. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. She needed to reply, and she needed to reply in a way that was warm but not desperate, enthusiastic but not over-eager, a tone that said I’d love to without revealing that her heart was attempting to escape through her ribcage. And the x at the end… that had to mean something. That couldn’t be how Caitlin would message a subordinate, surely? And if it was professional she’d have sent an email, wouldn’t she?

She typed, deleted, typed again, deleted again. Finally:

Hey Caitlin! Great to hear from you, and thank you, I’m really looking forward to the conference. A drink sounds perfect, I’d love to catch up. See you there! Helena x

She read it back. Was the exclamation mark too much? Was “I’d love to” too keen? Should she have matched Caitlin’s single x with a single x or was adding one of her own mirroring Caitlin too obviously?

You are a twenty-five-year-old professional woman agonising over punctuation. Send the message.

She hit send.

The blue ticks appeared almost immediately. Caitlin had seen it.

The typing indicator appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Helena held her breath.

Great! Looking forward to it. It’s been far too long. See you next week C x

Helena read it five times.

It’s been far too long.

Helena read those five words over and over, turning them around in her mind. It’s been far too long. Said casually, the way anyone might say it to a colleague they hadn’t seen in a while. Or said with meaning, an acknowledgment that nine months of silence had been nine months too many.

She put her phone in her bag and realised that she was grinning like an idiot, right there in the street in last night’s clothes.

It’s been far too long.

Only a few days to go until Miami, and Helena wanted to stop right there in the street and sing with joy because for the first time in months she allowed herself to feel something that she’d been trying very hard not to. Something that Isabella would counsel against.

Hope.

Miami

Chapter 9

The flight from São Paulo to Miami was just shy of nine hours and Helena didn’t manage to sleep for many of them.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. She’d booked a window seat, business class as expected of someone attending the partner conference, brought a book she’d been meaning to read for months, even took a herbal sleep supplement that Mariana swore by but that Helena suspected were largely placebo. None of it worked. Her mind was going at a hundred miles an hour and wouldn’t stop… the conference, the career opportunity, the panels she should attend, the partners she should make sure to meet.

And, of course, Caitlin.

Always Caitlin, beneath and around and through everything else, the thought she kept pushing down and that kept floating back to the surface.

She’d spoken to Isabella the night before she flew, a long phone call that started as a pep talk and ended as something that probably had more in common with therapy.

“Remember,” Isabella had said. “You are going because you are brilliant and you were invited. She is not the reason.”

“I know.”

“If you see her and it’s just professional, that’s fine. If you see her and there’s more, that’s fine too. But you are not flying to Miami for a woman. You are flying to Miami for your career.”

“I know, Isa.”