Chapter 30: Olivia
On Monday morning, the first thing I see when I open my laptop is an email from Davis’s admin, Kelsey.
Cancelled – Intern 1:1
Now, there’s a gaping hole on my calendar that Davis used to fill, just a little smaller than the figurative hole that has burrowed through my heart over the past two days.
I spent most of the weekend oscillating between tears, regret, messages I would never send, and confidence that I had made the right decision. When I awoke this morning, I vowed to adhere to that confidence.
This is the right thing. Breaking things off is the right thing—for you and for him.
I delete the email and clear out the rest of the messages in my inbox, which doesn’t take long. Then I’m just left to sit there and twiddle my thumbs.
Against my better judgment, I wonder how this day would have gone if I had said yes to Davis. Would he have kept that meeting on the calendar? Would we have hooked up in his office for half an hour? My stomach flips over when I recall the feeling of his hands yanking my underwear to the side to enter me. Then the memory of his words rattles around my brain like spare change in a coffee can.
The sex had been phenomenal, but that wasn’t it. It had been so much more than just sex. More than money. More than kink.
This is the right thing. Breaking things off is the right thing.
“Hey, are you busy?” Lana asks as she pokes her head around the door to my office.
“Totally free,” I admit as I wave her in. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just thought I would stop by. Things should be pretty quiet for you now that your project is done.”
“Yeah, pretty quiet,” I agree. “It’s good though. I was just reflecting on the summer.”
She pops up both eyebrows. “Anything you want to share?”
Yes, I ended up screwing the Chairman of the Board’s son in three different countries. For money.
“I like the M&A space. Long-term, I could see myself spending years doing it,” I offer diplomatically.
“And getting to work with Davis is such a good opportunity, both for M&A and just for career development in general,” Lana comments, beaming like she always does when she talks about Davis. It’s the same reaction that most people at the company have when I’ve mentioned him to them. Oh, you’re working with Davis this summer. That’s so great for your career. He’s got such a future here and so much influence. Oh yes, we love Davis around here.
“Definitely,” I concur, which I know makes me sound like an idiot who has nothing to say, but I’d rather not talk about him anymore. If it were possible, I’d like to forget that my entire internship was interwoven with Davis—that this summer will always belong to him.
“Well, I spoke with Davis,” she continues, still patently oblivious to the inner turmoil that I’m battling.
I freeze at the comment, forcing myself to keep my expression flat. This is it. This is the part where she tells me that screwing the company’s namesake was a vile thing to do and that I would have to be out of my slutty mind to think that I could ever work here after that.
On the contrary, Lana bobs her head vigorously. “He said that working with you was a pleasure. He said your contribution to the research was solid, well-produced, and diligent. He also said that you were attentive in your meetings in London and that you have serious potential as an M&A executive in the future.”
“Wow,” I murmur, trying to hide my relief. “That’s insanely kind of him.”
“I’ll add that I agree with his assessment. Working with you has been such a pleasure, Olivia. You’re just so exacting and efficient and I’ve enjoyed your frank approach to the work so much. With all of that said, I’d like to share that we are pleased to extend an offer for you to come back to Davenport-Ridgeway full-time as a Mergers & Acquisitions Manager after you finish your degree at Wharton.”
A week ago, this conversation would have elicited a genuine squeal from me. I would have jumped out of my office chair, hugged Lana, and then called Charlie immediately. After that, I would have barged into Davis’s office and ruined whatever meeting or call he was taking to tell him.
Instead, I force a smile because it feels like the appropriate thing to do even when the announcement feels hollow.
I continue to force that smile after Lana has left, when I email my mentor and my career advisor back at Wharton. I continue to force that smile as I call Charlie and let him know the wonderful news. I even force that smile through the ride home on the subway and as I fumble to get the key into the lock of my apartment door.
I smile until I’m finally alone and I can cry.
The last time I cried over a man, it was Davis. I was nineteen years old, sitting on that horrible plane back to the States and weeping over a can of ginger ale while the passengers on either side of me stared at me like I was out of my mind.
I guess some things never change.