Page 50 of Game Changer

“I don’t understand what went down. You lost your job. And Brad."

“He left the firm. And me,” I add.

“How are you not freaking out about this?”

“Brad or work?”

“Both. I can’t believe you’re here, trying cakes and dresses when you don’t even know if you have a job to go back to.”

“They’re reviewing the circumstances. They’ll realize I wasn’t involved and give me my job back. It just takes time.”

They have to give me my job back, I remind myself.

She picks up her glass and takes a long drink. “Were you and Brad even engaged?”

“We were.” I grab my wine, too, squeezing the stem too hard. The feel of the ring on my finger is almost gone but not quite. “He asked me the month before. I wanted to tell you, but I figured I’d see you this fall and wanted to surprise you in person.”

“But?”

“But he stole money. They assumed because of our relationship that I might be in on it. That’s why they put me on leave pending an investigation.

“Brad had been wanting my help updating some client files, including billings. He had some big clients who retained him for multiple properties, and he was always making deals to save them money. Or so I thought. One day, one of them came asking questions. The next week, he was gone.”

Her eyes round in horror. “What about at home? There was no warning?”

Smiles that went as easily as they came.

Careless attention except when he was in his office.

Praise only when I did what he wanted.

I take a sip of my wine, the warm red flowing smoothly across my tongue.

“Maybe I should have known.” When I see how affectionate Harlan is with Mari, it reminds me how different Brad and I were.

“After we moved in together, I was so happy to be with him that I never questioned how things were. That when he took me to an industry event on his arm, it felt like a favor. He was successful and normal, and I wanted him to want me. I spent so much time trying that I never stopped to ask what it meant that he didn’t already want me.”

Mari crosses to the fridge and pulls out a bag of prewashed lettuce and a pepper. “I’m sorry.”

I grab a cutting board and a knife and set both on the counter, then hold up both hands. “It’s fine.”

She tosses me the pepper, then gets a bowl for the lettuce.

It’s not fine exactly, but I don’t know how to have that conversation with my sister. We haven’t talked that openly in a long time.

Plus, for the first time today, I forgot about what happened. For hours.

Playing basketball was so much fun. I felt as though I was part of something. The way Clay included me, and taught me, and touched me…

Mari looks up. “I guess I take for granted that Mom and Dad cared about each other. Nothing else was stable, but I never questioned that.”

I start to chop the pepper in rhythmic slices.

“Remember when Dad learned to play the ukulele so he had an instrument while Mom sang?” she asks.

Nostalgia rocks me. “Yes. Mom had the most beautiful voice.”

“She used to sing that song. 'Home.' Whenever I had a bad day, she’d sing it to me.”

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