“I said I’m going on vacation and I scheduled a trip to Costa Rica with my boyfriend and I couldn’t do it, but the partner said that they couldn’t push it back, and that I was expected to do this and I should be happy that the client requested me. And that sometimes plans have to be broken—especially in the year that you’re up for partner.”

“And that’s what you want? I’ve been through this drill before, as you know.”

“I don’t want this,” she said. “But I can’t just give it up—I’ve worked so hard.” Her voice broke.

There was a brief silence.

“Fuck, I’m not doing this. I just can’t do this. I can’t believe I fell for a fucking corporate lawyer.”

“Jake …”

“I’m sorry, Audrey.” Jake hung up.

She listened to the final dial tone. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out. She couldn’t cry at the office. She’d just managed to hold it together in that partner’s office.

She hurried out into the hallway to the fire exit staircase. She couldn’t take the elevator. Her legs felt like Jell-o and her chest was about to burst. She kept taking big gulps of air as she bolted down the stairs. I can’t take this anymore. It’s too much to ask. She pulled open the metal exit door and burst out into the crowded street. She ran down the block, tears streaming down her face. She made it to the Hudson River esplanade. She gripped the cold metal balustrade, heaving. Wiping away her salty tears, she watched the tug push the bigger boat up the river, against the current.

Malaburn was right. She didn’t have what it took to be a partner.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Five

T he London sky was pale blue, almost white, as evening approached. Audrey wandered through London’s streets back to her hotel, needing some fresh air and space to think. She’d made it through two days now, including the client dinner last night, and she’d carried it off—not brilliantly, by any means, but sufficiently. She remembered reading an article that if you pretend to be happy, that alone could affect your mood and make you happier. She hadn’t pretended to be happy, but she’d pretended to be a lawyer—by not allowing herself to think of Jake or that they’d broken up, so maybe that had enabled her to function. So, she did have what it took to be a partner. No wonder so many thought of lawyers as heartless. She’d been able to compartmentalize too when her father had died, carrying on with school, crying at night. Malaburn’s criticism that she was too emotional was wrong. Sometimes she worried she wasn’t emotional enough.