Gabby purses her lips. “And while I admire your convictions and your passion for the cause, at some point, you have to worry about your own survival.”
“Convictions are convictions precisely because they can’t be violated,” I reply.
“Honey, I have a feeling all those people you go to bat for would understand if you took a job that allows you to remain fed and housed if it means you’re able to continue fighting for them.”
“At the very least, it’s a conflict of interest,” I argue.
“Only if you are in a court fight with Compass,” she corrects me. “Which, given that Sawyer delayed the Atwell project, there isn’t going to be one. Right?”
“This time,” I point out. “But he continues to develop projects all around the city.”
“I would be willing to bet a large sum of money if you and Sawyer talked about this, he would avoid developing projects that would put the two of you into conflict.”
“There are a lot of if’s and maybe’s in that statement,” I note. “I mean, he did tell me he’s not going to stop developing properties, and that the bottom line is his most important line.”
Gabby takes a bite of her sandwich and chews, never taking her eyes off me. I know she’s just buying herself time before delivering some zinger she thinks will knock me off balance and agree with her. It’s one of the things that makes her a brilliant lawyer – she’s able to find the soft spots in an argument and then eviscerate them. It’s one reason I was surprised she went corporate rather than criminal.
But when she frowns and washes her sandwich down with some of her tea, I know she hasn’t come up with that zinger. She does have one solid counter argument, though. One that’s not as easy for me to dismiss.
“With the money you’d make working for Sawyer, you wouldn’t have to stress as much about your dad’s meds,” she says. “Life wouldn’t be such a struggle for you, Berlin.”
I nod and sigh. “That’s why I didn’t reject it out of hand.”
“And if that’s not enough, consider this – with you in his ear 24/7, you might just be able to help change the way he does business,” she offers. “You might be able to get him on board with your cause.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But there isn’t a lot of money in charitable causes. And Sawyer likes making money.”
She shrugs. “Maybe you can find a way to do both. Let him make money and also put him on a more – compassionate path.”
A small smile touches my lips. All of those are terrific arguments for taking the job – being able to pay for my dad’s meds being the most obvious. But I haven’t told her everything yet. Hell, I’m still trying to wrap my own brain around it and figure out how it all fits into my life. It complicates things even more.
“What’s wrong?”
I give my head a small shake as Gabby’s voice pulls me out of my head and back to the present.
“Berlin, what’s going on with you?” she prods.
I look at her and feel my stomach roiling. My eyes sting as they well with tears. Gabby takes my hand, stroking it gently as she looks at me with genuine concern etched into her features. Frustrated and embarrassed, I wipe away the tears and sniff, doing everything I can to keep from breaking down right here in front of a full restaurant.
“Honey, talk to me,” Gabby urges me softly. “What’s happened?”
“I’m pregnant, Gabs,” I whisper.
Her mouth falls open, and her eyes grow comically wide with shock. I would probably laugh if I weren’t on the verge of sobbing uncontrollably.
“W – h – how?” she stammers.
I arch my eyebrow at her. “Really? You need me to explain how these things happen?”
I do my best to keep things light – and keep myself from crying – but my joke comes out flat and wooden.
“Shut up,” she says with a courtesy chuckle. “When did you find out?”
“A couple of days ago.”
“Have you told Sawyer yet?”
I shake my head. “I meant to tell him. We had coffee, and I was going to,” I respond. “But I chickened out.”
“Oh my God, Berlin,” she whispers. “As if you needed any other problems.”
My snort of laughter is sharp and brittle. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, you have to tell him,” she says simply. “If nothing else, he is going to owe you child support.”
“Yeah. But do you see now why going to work for him might be problematic?” I ask. “I mean, if he wants nothing to do with me when he finds out – or with our child – things could get awkward real fast.”
“Yeah, I see that.”
Gabby whistles low and leans back in her seat, an expression of stunned disbelief on her face. It’s an expression I know well since it’s been plastered on my own face the last few days.
“Oh my God, Berlin,” she gasps. “I – I don’t even know what to say.”
“That makes two of us.”
When Gabby looks at me, her expression of shock melts away and becomes one of steely resolve. She holds me with her gaze as if trying to transfer that to me through the sheer force of her will. She takes my hand again and grips it tight – the physical manifestation of the fervent light in her eyes.
“No matter what happens, we’ll get through this,” she tells me. “We’ll figure it out, Berlin.”
“Yeah,” I say, sniffing back tears.
“If nothing else, I’ll wrangle you an interview down at my firm,” she presses. “I know it’s not what you want to do, but at least it would be a job. And if you’re going to be a mother – on top of everything else
