“You are being very selfish, and if I lose this case, it’s going to be your fault.”
When she stands, I do the same. “For one, Willa, you won’t lose this case because it’s a slam dunk. You’ve done the work and so has he, so just close it. But a word of advice—and this will be the last advice I give you. Ever,” I say, my voice dropping an octave. “I will not be threatened by you, nor will I stand for you attacking a relationship I’m in when you know nothing about us or our situation. You will never speak of my race again, and if I ever hear about it, I will turn you in to HR. I am appalled by this behavior, especially when I have been nothing but supportive of you. I want you to win, not only for Kirby and Celeste but for your career. Unlike you, I don’t look at skin color or anything like that. I look at the potential, and you have it—as long as you keep race out of it.”
She is speechless and, I can tell, guilty. What did I expect? She’s young and Southern. It’s nothing new, and I’m sure she expected this to go a whole other direction, but I will not apologize for how I handled it. I have been disrespected worse than this in my life, but man, this is one slight I won’t forget. A good second passes with her not saying anything, so with a nod, I say, “Good talk. Now get out of my office.”
She wants to say something, I know she does, but she makes the right choice and leaves my office.
I take a deep breath in, letting it out in a rush before I sit back in my chair. I swallow, looking out into the reception area, willing myself not to cry. I won’t give her the satisfaction, and I will not think I am in the wrong. I’m not. I am trying to find happiness with a damn good man.
In no way, shape, or form do I believe he is using me as just a female presence in Celeste’s life. That is downright ridiculous. Kirby isn’t the kind of man to use anyone. He’s been hurt; he wouldn’t do that. I know that. No matter how much my past relationship wants to rear its ugly head and twist me into believing it to be true, I won’t allow it.
When my phone sounds with a text, I am thankful for the interruption to my wild thoughts. I pull it out of my back pocket to find it’s a photo from Kirby. With the ocean behind her, Celeste is sitting in the sand wearing a sweet little purple bathing suit and laughing happily. I can’t help but grin, and my heart fills with such joy at the sight of hers. When I read the caption, though, my heart stops dead in my chest.
Can’t wait to see you. We miss you.
We. I don’t know why that simple word makes my stomach churn with anxiety. He loves his child so much, but what if being with me makes him lose the case? What if I am a distraction and he drops the ball? Neglects his fatherly duties, or his ex uses our relationship against him? What if me adding to that we messes everything up? I am a black woman, he is a white man, and there are more people out there like Willa who will see an issue with our relationship. Never in my life have I cared about that. I believe that all people bleed the same red blood, but I don’t want to screw this up for him. I refuse to be ashamed of my race or his. I am proud, but I don’t want Lilly to win somehow when Kirby is such a great dad to Celeste.
My mind is going a mile a minute, and I can’t shake this feeling that I am making a mistake getting involved with him. Given the warnings from Aviva and Nico, and now Willa, maybe I should listen. Maybe I should walk away.
I can’t be the reason this man doesn’t get to keep that bundle of perfection in his life.
But as I stare at the picture, his words, I don’t think that’s fair.
Fuck.
I lay my head on my desk, feeling dizzy from the whiplash of my feelings. One minute, I’m confident in us, knowing damn well I’m ready to open up. And the next, I’m wondering if I should text him and tell him maybe we shouldn’t do this.
Why is this so hard? Why aren’t I allowed to be happy? Why can’t Kirby? We deserve it. We’re good people, and damn it, we both love that baby.
Problem is, I care so much about Kirby and Celeste, I don’t know if I can risk ruining what they have. But can I live with the consequences of that? I lived more than a year without them, hating myself for not meeting him before his ex got pregnant. For not locking him in when I had the chance.