And yet, he must be. Because I can’t stop.
“Now, before we get into it –” I say, clearing my throat. I’ve decided to go about this the Jake Simmons way, with charm and panache sprinkled in over the business know-how. “I want to tellyou how important your business is to keeping the legacy of our company alive.”
I spend the next fifteen minutes appealing to their sense of morals and ethics. Talking about the Gladstone family story, the groundwork for our company, and what we have over the competition. And they seem to be eating it up. Mostly because they don’t interrupt me.
All skills I picked up from Jake Simmons and the way he talks about Simmons Sauces with love and heart. Kind of hard to have that love for a manufacturing company that sells napkins. But that’s not the story I’m selling. I’m sellingGladstone. The family business passed down for generations.
Gram seems pleased. She doesn’t interrupt me and leans back in her chair. Although, she’s been pleased with me since she found out Jake and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. Not sure how I should feel about my grandmother celebrating my heartbreak, but no time to think about that now.
“Now, from our numbers, our first collaboration has gone extremely well.” Time for the nitty gritty, my favorite part. “I can walk you through the data on page five of your –“ I pause, surprised to feel a wave of nausea rolling up from my stomach. “Ehem, excuse me. On page five you can see the graphic representation of –”
It hits again, this time not just a suggestion of nausea but a promise of it. I tense all the muscles in my body.Not here. Not now.
“Caroline, are you alright?” Gram asks.
“Y-yes, I’m –” I cover my mouth, afraid if I say another word, I might puke right into my grandmother’s lap.
What the hell is going on with me?
“Excuse yourself. I’ll take over this part,” she says, patting my hands which seems like a loving gesture, but given the disappointment in her eyes, I know it’s pity.
I rush out of the room, not even sure how my feet propel me so fast to the bathroom, where I spew my guts into the toilet. All of it, bile burning at the back of my throat. I haven’t heaved my guts out like this since college. And I haven’t even had anything to drink. I collapse over the toilet, trying to catch my breath, not caring that I’m leaning over a bacteria-infested porcelain throne.
“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself.
As if it wasn’t bad enough Jake has broken my heart and my grandmother thinks I’m a poor excuse for a businesswoman, but now I’m coming down with something. And I’m supposed to be getting my period soon.
My heart sinks into my stomach like a rock.
Iamsupposed to get my period soon, aren’t I?
Oh no. No, no, no…
My phone is still in the conference room, so I try and do quick mental math. My last period was… God, was it really that long ago already? Five weeks? Six? No, it couldn’t possibly. And if itisthat late, surely it’s just stress causing it to be delayed.
That’s not a great excuse when I’m hanging over a toilet just having puked my guts out.
And I can’t stop crying.
Oh. Fucking. No.
When I finally return to the conference room, I remain silent while the meeting concludes. To my delight, Beeler and Brown thank me furiously for all the work I put into the presentation and for giving them a retrospective on the Gladstone company.
“We feel even more comfortable in our decision to continue this agreement with you, Ms. Gladstone,” Beeler says, shaking my hand viciously.
Once they’re gone, Gram hums. “Well, I have to give it to you, that little history lesson seemed to strike a chord.”
I stare at her. “A trick I picked up from Jake.”Don’t get me started on something else I might have picked up from Jake.
“It’s not the shrewdest tactic, but it’s a start. You’re going to have to get a handle on your nerves, though, Caroline. You can’t be running out like a scared child about to play their first piano concert.”
For once, I’m thankful she doesn’t bother to ask for the whole story. I think the whole story might piss her off to Timbuktu and back. Although, I’m not even sure of the whole story yet.
But the second I’m out of Gram’s clutches, I intend to find out the ending.
We are using a timer on Jude’s phone, but I still feel like I can hear a ticking clock. I sit on the toilet lid, my legs drawn up to my chest, while Jude sits on the edge of the bathtub.
Outside in the hall, Chase paces, appearing in the open door every few seconds.