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“Are you leaving because you’re pregnant?”
The directness almost makes me smile. This is part of why I wanted to be part of Prescott, Hale & Mercer in the first place. There’s no beating around the bush.
“No,” I answer truthfully.
His eyebrows lift.
“If that’s what you’re worried about, you should know we’d keep you,” he says. “There wouldn’t be any question about that. You’ve earned your place here.”
“I know.” I give him a small smile. “And I appreciate it. But that’s not why I’m leaving.”
He waits. I don’t have to tell Damon anything about why I’m leaving, legally, and I certainly can’t tell him I’m dating a Bratva boss who I find myself more and more obsessed with. Who is also the father of my child.
But they’ve treated me well here, and I want to leave on good terms.
“I want to open my own practice.”
That seems to surprise him more than the pregnancy question.
“Your own practice?”
“A small one. More niche. More selective.” I glance toward the window, thinking about Lake Placid, the mountains, the lake, the strange quiet I’ve grown accustomed to. “Less hectic.”
“You? Less hectic?”
I laugh softly. “I know. It sounds insane.”
“It does.”
I shake my head. “But that vacation changed something for me. I went up there expecting to rest, then asked you to let me handle that outside case, and somewhere in the middle of it…” I pause. “I realized there are other ways to live.”
Damon studies me again, but this time there’s understanding in his expression. Interesting, since he isn’t exactly known to take it easy himself. Damon’s a shark of a lawyer with a fashion mogul wife and two kids. But he seems to get it.
“You’re serious.”
“I am.”
He nods slowly. “Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled to lose you. But I respect it.” He folds his hands across his desk. “You’ve been valuable to this firm, Matilda. More than valuable, actually. We’re going to miss you.”
The sincerity catches me off guard. For years I’ve seen myself as a go-getter, heard about my cold-hearted reputation. What I’m sitting across from now seems more… emotional. And honest.
“Thank you.”
He smiles faintly. “I just hope whoever convinced you to move up to Lake Placid knows what they have.”
A smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it. He notices.
“Ah,” he says. “So there is someone.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. These days, the thought of my future doesn’t make me feel like I’m giving something up.
It feels like I’m finally choosing exactly what I want.
* * *
Mid-December in New York is cold enough to make me question every life decision that brought me here. Not that further north would be any better…
I hurry down the sidewalk anyway, one gloved hand wrapped around the strap of my purse, the other instinctively resting beneath my stomach. I’m late for lunch with Isla after giving Damon the news, mostly because I spent the entire morning working and then somehow convinced myself I could squeeze in another hour before leaving the office.
