Chapter Twenty: We Couldn't Get Along Without You

Matt and I sat on his couch with a couple of cold beers. I sipped mine slowly, thinking.

“I’m screwed,” I said abruptly.

“Oh?”

“Thanks to you, Mr. Big Mouth, I can’t just tell my father that I broke it off with Calla. He and my mother expect this impressive young lady. She’s a sign that I’m maturing. That I’m ‘boss material.’ I can’t show weakness or a lack of commitment. My father will immediately question whether I’m fit for the new promotion.”

“What if you tell him it was a misunderstanding? You weren’t really seeing her, I was having a prank at your expense.”

“Yeah, if I tell them that, then I’ll look just as weak. I should have smacked you down then and there, not let you ramble on. I’ll come across as a coward. That works for someone you’re offering the entire law department.”

Matt grimaced. “Sorry, dude.”

“It’s not your fault.” I stood up and grabbed my coat. “You didn’t know. I have to either figure out how to convince Calla to come on Friday, or invent an emergency to avoid my parents’ little party.”

“Given how pissed your dad will be, I’m thinking ‘faking your own death’ sounds good.”

“Goodnight, Matt.”


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I had little trouble waking up at my usual time on Wednesday morning. Having been out until midnight should have caused a problem, but knowing Matt helped. I knew he would be late coming back and stole a nap in the evening, before exacting my revenge.

Now, I will never understand how he can stay out so late with a girl and still make it to work on time the next morning. Though perhaps he pulled the “calling in sick” trick more times than I was aware of.

I headed to the coffee house for the first time all week. I stood in line, got my cup, and found a seat. I looked around the room, hoping to spot Calla. There was the usual mix of university students and young adults, but no pretty physics majors. I shrugged and went to work.

I worked on files and contracts for a good chunk of the morning and then called Calla’s place. I felt like I needed to do some work first, personal calls always made me feel like I was cheating on my job. She wasn’t in, but that kind of made sense. After all, she was probably at class or the lab.

“Hi, Ms. Wiley, it’s Diggory Franklin calling. If you could contact me, my number is…”

I felt like such a dunce. She had called me on Saturday, and I’d been ignoring her ever since. What were the chances she’d bother to return the call? More importantly, what would I do if she did call? The last conversation had been surreal, with that nonsense about me having a year to live. I would need to find a way out of this.

Lorraine buzzed me. “Mr. Franklin, you’re needed in the conference room.”

“Thank you, Lorraine.”

I pulled on my suit jacket and walked down the hall, thinking hard. I turned and opened the conference room door, and was suddenly blitzed by sound.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” People screamed, making me jump. Then they harmonized with “For he’s a jolly good fellow…”

I felt like I was having a cheesy nightmare. I looked around the conference room and saw that it had been decorated with balloons and a congratulatory banner. The entire law department staff was there, except for Lorraine, cheering.

She appeared at my elbow a moment later.

“Sorry, boss.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Lorraine.”

Chris Geertz passed around glasses and offered a toast, promising everyone they’d see “big things” from me in the future. I felt bad for the guy: he was genuinely nice, and had no idea my father planned to cut him off at the balls in a couple of years.

There was actually cake and pizza. I realized that this promotion must have been a bigger deal than I thought. Everyone was shaking my hand and clapping me on the back, big grins plastered on their faces.

I even caught one of the interns batting her eyes at me flirtatiously. I smiled back.

Maybe growing up wasn’t so bad after all.

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