THE SMATTER of applause in the boardroom clashes against my shocked silence.
Words flow around me, knocking against my skin without penetrating my head.
My brain stalls.
The room spins.
I scramble to process what just happened.
Pax McClane Fox grins so hard I can see all her white teeth. “Harriet?
Did you hear me?”
“I think I got that wrong.” I shake my head. “What did you just say?”
The CEO of McClane Confectionaries beams at me. Pax is wearing a deep purple blazer over sweeping navy pants. Her curly hair is tightened into a knot at the back of her neck. Sweet laughter pours from her mouth.
“Congratulations on your new position!” My jaw drops.
Gleeful screams pour out of my throat.
Pax joins me in a squeal that is far too unprofessional for a woman of her position.
Not that she cares.
She hauls me in for a hug. The scent of her perfume-lilac and some other expensive fragrance-fills my nose. Her purple nails tangle in my weave when she pulls back. We both laugh as she patiently unhooks it from her thumb.
“Are you that happy?” She hands me the plaque that says ‘Franchise Owner of the Month’. It slipped from my fingers when she told me I was
being awarded with much more than an engraved piece of wood.
“I’m just…” I blink rapidly. It’s hard to breathe. “I’ve been fighting for a promotion for years. I can’t believe it’s finally happened.”
“You deserve it.” She squeezes my shoulder. I give her a grateful look.
When we first met, Pax and I were enemies. It’s no secret that our competition to be number one turned ugly. I couldn’t stand the sight of her. But, after we became friends and I put the knives down, I learned a lot from her.
Pax is diligent, hard-working and ambitious. She’s great.
But so am I.
I’ve been comparing myself to her thinking that we were exactly the same and she had an unfair advantage.
But I was wrong.
Pax beat me because she had more.
Not just youthfulness and drive. Not connections.
Not education.
Fearlessness.
She had ideas for days and she went after them like a warrior charging into the fray. She didn’t stop to wonder what failure looked like. Tasted like. What people would say if she stumbled and fell. She embraced the falling. Stitched cushions around herself so that, when she hit the ground, she could bounce right back up.
I used to be like that. Before marriage.
Before Jerrison stole my heart and dumped it.
Before I became the kind of woman who jumped into dumpsters, slashed tires and fought with other women to keep a man who didn’t want me.
“Your idea to open the bakery for creative events was inspired.” Pax scrunches her nose. “In fact, I’m kicking myself for not thinking about it first.”
“Not everyone can be this brilliant, Mrs. Fox.” Pax snorts.
I beam a smile.
After a minute, she waves me to silence. “Because of your innovation and diligence, we’d be honored if you would implement this new service in all the regional franchises.” Her eyebrows drop over sparkling eyes. “It’s going to be a lot of work.”
“I know.”
“But you’re up for the task.” She grips the mike.
I take her hand and haul the microphone toward me. “I know that too.” Awkward laughter breaks out.
I don’t even care.
My heart swells to the point of bursting. This promotion is the acknowledgement I’ve been waiting for.
As more applause breaks out, Pax gives my hand a friendly squeeze. “You’ve been working like crazy lately. You deserve to stop and enjoy what you’ve done.”
It sounds like a dream. Stopping.
Breathing.
Being in the moment.
I can’t deny that the past few weeks have been difficult. After heeding Doc’s advice and moving out of the house I shared with my husband, I found all the cracks in my facade. The bitterness. The resentment. The loneliness. The self-hatred.
It takes time to meet those feelings. Introduce myself. Offer a truce. I’m just getting used to the silence.
Barely shaking off the instinct to wait. Always waiting.
Sometimes, I’ll sit in the sofa and glance at the door, half-expecting Jerrison to walk in any minute. Effort. Patience. Deep breaths in and out. I walk away from those habits as best as I can.
No, it hasn’t been easy. The ugly parts inside have nowhere to hide now. Nowhere to run. I’m trying to coax them from the darkness. Bandage them up and give them the care they’ve been crying out for. The care I always ignored in favor of running after a cheating husband.
Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes, I can blow on the wounds. Put salve on them. Bring relief. Other times, I fail and melt into a puddle of despondency. Fingers clamped around an empty beer can. Heart thrashing against my ribs. Voices telling me it’s better to be with someone than to be alone.
But burying my pain in someone else is not what I want.
And it’s not what Doc recommended. He told me to treat my husband as a stranger and observe him like a P. I. to make sure he’s really changed.
He hasn’t.
Whispers of his deeds have proven that.
I have to face the shadows on my own. Battle through this for myself. I’m the only one who can save me.
It’s a journey that’s only just begun and I’m already a little tired of it. To cope, I’ve poured my all into work. It’s my best distraction. The only place I can run to and empty out my thoughts.
Business doesn’t care that I’m a rejected wife. Profit margins couldn’t be bothered by a woman floundering to find herself.
This is good.
I’m getting better at being okay. Cameras flash in my face.
I smile with the plaque Pax gave me. Pose. Turn slightly. Pose again.
My smile rings with sincerity.
I’m proud of myself even without this promotion. I’m slowly finding my confidence back. Soon, I’ll be whole again.
I step off the platform and Pax is right behind me. As we move, dark glares are directed at my face. The stench of jealousy reminds me of tar and thick smoke. In a company this competitive, I’ve just painted a target on my back.
I answer sneers with smiles.
Return scornful looks of judgement with a wave and a head nod.
It’s easy to ignore the haters. Especially when I understand what they’re feeling. I used to be the same way, eager to prove myself in a company filled with master’s degrees and brilliant minds. Eager to stand out from a crowd. When everyone’s special, no one is.
My heels hit solid ground.
Someone steps into my path. A dark hand stretches in my direction. “Congratulations,” Agnes, a fellow manager, grudgingly shakes my hand.
“Thank you.”
Agnes wiggles a finger in my direction. “You’re lucky I’m moving to another city or I’d be coming for that plaque next month.”
“Bring it on.”
Pax grins at me. “How are you going to celebrate, Harriet?”
I tilt my head. Study the raised ceiling. I lift a finger and tap my manicured nails against my jaw. “Fluffy pajamas, ice cream and Law and Order re-runs.”
Pax frowns at me. “That’s it?” “And chocolate.”
A scowl crawls across her pecan-colored face. “You’re kidding me.”
“Fine.” I lift a peace sign. “I’ll have two scoops of ice cream and dump the chocolate.”
“Who celebrates with only two scoops of ice cream?” Agnes gasps. “You animal.”
The laughter slips out of me. It’s fast and familiar. I love hearing it.
Love that it can spill through the air like sunshine when I least expect it.
It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to laugh that easily. To let my guard down. To enjoy the moment. I thought it would be hard to find that part of me. The part that Jerrison never offered back. The carefree and fun-loving Harriet who saw the good in everyone.
I didn’t always used to be a nag. I never started out wanting to cut my co-workers at the knees, scrambling and crawling my way up the ladder. Before life turned sour, I smiled at everything.
Pax gives me a proud look. She knows.
She sees how bright I am.
My laughter dissolves into quiet giggles. I’m so pleased I could burst.
This is me.
This is who I am without stress. Without bodies that roll off the bed in the middle of the night. Without whispered phone calls that I shouldn’t know about. Gifts that never found their way to me. Lingerie that was never intended for my body.
This is the real Harriet. It’s funny that I find her at the strangest moments. Waiting. Ready to be unleashed. The version of me I imagined when I was a child. The version I lost when I became an adult.
I traded my freedom for wedding vows that got broken far too soon. Now I have my freedom back.
It feels good. Way too good.
Agnes looks at me like I’m crazy.
I don’t even care.
Pax hooks one arm around mine and the other around Agnes. She steers us both out of the room. “Let’s go out and celebrate.”
“Yes,” I say. Because I deserve it. It doesn’t matter that the sun is out.
Doesn’t matter that I’m separated from my husband with no clear direction as to how things will end.
All that matters is the laughter I find when I dig deep inside myself. The drinks that flow without stopping. The arms that rise and the hips that swing from side to side on a dance floor built for three.
I’ve found the broken pieces of me and I’m putting them back together, one shard at a time.