Page 9 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
"And he couldn't handle that?"
"Apparently not." I move to the kitchen for the wine bottle, refilling both our glasses. "But that's Oscar for you. Always has to be in control. When he couldn't control the situation — control me — he bailed."
The memory still stings, even after all these years. I had no idea when he walked out my apartment door that night that it would be the last time I saw him. I’ve replayed the memory here and there, always wondering if I should have done something differently, always coming to the same conclusion – that I did what was right for myself at the time.
"That's harsh," Sydney says softly. "But maybe he misunderstood. Did you ever try to explain?"
"How could I? He vanished. Told me he had another opportunity he needed to follow or whatever. And then I heard through mutual friends that he'd taken a job at some fancy ass prestigious firm. He moved on so easily. Like I— like our dreams meant nothing."
"And now he's back," Sydney says. "With enough money to buy the company you help run. That's some serious karma."
"It's not karma," I protest. "It's just… bad luck."
"Or maybe it's a chance to clear the air," she suggests. "Twelve years is a long time to carry around that kind of baggage."
I shake my head. "There's nothing to clear up. He bailed when things got complicated. He's shown me exactly who he is."
"People change, Alice. Maybe he has."
"You saw him today. Mr. Corporate Takeover with his fancy suit and his talk about 'financial metrics'." I make air quotes with my fingers. "He's become exactly the kind of businessman we used to criticize in college."
She gives me a knowing look. "Sure, but… he's also become exactly the kind of man who makes you all hot and bothered."
"What? No!" But even as I deny it, I feel heat rising to my cheeks. "I hate him."
"Uh-huh. That's why you kept stealing glances at him during the meeting. And why you've barely eaten any of your dinner while talking about him."
I look down at my mostly untouched salmon. "That's not… I was just caught off guard seeing him again."
"Sure," Sydney says, her tone making it clear she doesn't believe me. "And I suppose you didn't notice how good he looks in that suit either."
"I didn't," I lie.
But I did notice. Of course I noticed. The way the tailored jacket accentuated his broad shoulders. The confidence in his stance. The way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck.
Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.
"Well, I'm just saying," she continues. “All that passion has to come from somewhere. And hatred and love are two sides of the same coin."
"This isn't a romance novel, Syd. This is my life. And my job, which is now in the hands of a man who abandoned me when I needed him most."
She holds up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll drop it. But for what it's worth, I think there's more to this story than either of you is admitting."
After dinner, Sydney helps me clean up, our conversation shifting to safer topics: the latest office gossip, her date this weekend with someone she met on an app, an upcoming plant sale we plan to visit. By the time she leaves, it's nearly eleven, and the weight of the day comes crashing down on me.
I should sleep. Tomorrow will be another battle in the war that has suddenly become my professional life.
Instead, I find myself pulling a dusty shoebox from the back of my closet. Inside are remnants of a life I've tried to forget. Photos, business cards, and a weathered leather-bound notebook filled with ideas scribbled in two different handwritings — mine and Oscar's.
I trace his neat penmanship with my fingertip, remembering how we used to finish each other's sentences, both on paper and in life. There's a photo of us at graduation, arms around each other's shoulders, our faces alight with the promise of the future. Another from a business competition we won our junior year, trophy held high between us.
We look so young, so hopeful. So unaware of how quickly it would all fall apart.
I flip through the notebook until I find our original business plan, the one we'd stayed up three nights in a row perfecting. ‘Better Investments: Where Values Meet Profit’, the header reads. The motto makes me smile despite myself. We were so idealistic then.
Tucked into the back of the notebook, I find a note I'd forgotten about. Oscar's handwriting, scrawled on a post-it: ‘Meeting ran late. Brought you coffee. Let's crush this presentation tomorrow! -O’
Simple, ordinary. Yet it brings tears to my eyes. This was the Oscar I knew. The one who remembered how I took my coffee, who believed in our shared vision so completely. Not the polished stranger who walked into my company today with dollar signs in his eyes.
