“That’s not my –”
“I know, it’s not your problem,” she spits. “But if we don’t take care of our own, who will, Sawyer? If what you call progress continues the trajectory we’re on, it’s not going to be all that long before the only people who will be able to afford to live in New York will be the millionaires and billionaires.”
“Which will lower crime, lower drug abuse, keep the city cleaner, safer, and –”
“Wow. I can’t believe I’m hearing this fall out of your mouth right now,” she says, her voice tinged with sadness. “Believe it or not, it’s these people you spit on and look down your nose at that make New York what it is.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. These people you have such contempt for are the ones who build the local businesses we all enjoy. They’re the artists who provide culture and diversity to our city – a culture you’ve told me makes you love this city as passionately as you do,” she spits. “What do your Wall Street buddies add to this city? What sort of culture do they bring? How do they add to the fabric of New York?”
“Without those people you’ve got such contempt for, we wouldn’t have more than half of the other things we enjoy in this city – museums, parks, the theater,” I throw her words back in her face. “Like it or not, the wealthy not only provide jobs, but the massive amounts of tax money they pay and investments they make are the lifeblood of this city. Without them, we have no city. Certainly not one as great as this.”
“So that’s all it’s about to you? Dollars and cents? Who cares about human lives?”
I want to respond, but she shakes her head and looks away from me. We sit in a prolonged silence filled with the tension of unspoken words. The expression on her face is one of absolute misery and heartbreak – and I feel her slipping away from me. As we sit there together, we may as well be on opposite sides of the country, given the yawning chasm that seems to be opening up between us.
Finally, Berlin raises her head and looks at me. “So, there’s no chance of you stopping the development of the Jackson?”
I spread my hands out and frown. “I can’t, Berlin. I have a job to do and a business to run,” I respond.
She nods slowly, the sadness on her face only deepening. “I was afraid you were going to say that,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I was hoping you wouldn’t, but I was afraid you might.”
“So, where does that leave us?” I finally ask.
She doesn’t speak for a long moment. The way she sits there, staring down at the floor, unblinking and unmoving, you’d almost think somebody hit the ‘off’ switch in her. Finally, she raises her head. Her eyes are shimmering with tears. Her lips quiver, and I watch as a lone tear traces its way down her smooth cheek. Sitting there staring at me, she looks like the quintessential picture of heartbreak.
“I don’t know, Sawyer,” she whispers. “I really don’t know right now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I need some space to think,” she responds. “I need to think through some things I chose to ignore before.”
“Berlin, that’s not fair. You’ve always known –”
“That’s why I said they were things I chose to ignore.”
She’s on her feet and headed for the door in the blink of an eye. I want to call out to her. I want to stop her. In that moment, I’m willing to say or do almost anything to get her to stop. To stay. But I know if I give in now, this is a battle I’m going to be fighting as long as we’re together. I gave her a gift once – she can’t expect it every single time. It’s not fair to me.
And I can already hear her counter argument to that. That what I’m doing isn’t fair to other people. I hate it. I hate that she’s gotten so deeply into my head.
As the door clicks closed behind her, I’m left alone in my office with my dark thoughts and the darker anger that’s surging through me. I grab the coffee mug off the top of my desk and hurl it across the room, a satisfied grin touching my face when it hits the wall and explodes into a million pieces that spray everywhere.
I listen to the pieces falling, hear them tinkling against the ground, and can’t help but think that’s a pretty good metaphor for my heart right now.
Chapter Thirty-Five Berlin
“You know I love you, right?”
I give her a wry smile. Whenever Gabby prefaces a statement like that, I know I’m not going to like whatever comes out of her mouth next. It’s just another reminder that the only certainties in life are death, taxes, and that Gabby will always give me the unvarnished truth – whether I like it or not.
“Of course I do,” I respond.
“Good, then you need to pull your head out of your ass.”
“Me?” I almost shriek. “Are you kidding? What about him?”
I’m aware of all the eyes in the coffee house turning our way at my outburst. Realizing that I’m causing a scene, I sit back in my chair, take a drink of my latte, and pointedly ignore everybody gawking at us. Gabby just sits back and laughs.
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side in this,” I hiss.
“I’m not taking anybody’s side, hon.” She raises a hand in surrender. “I’m so neutral; you can just call me Switzerland.”
“Sure sounds like you’re siding with him.”
Gabby takes a drink of her coffee and sits back. “That’s because you’re so upset, you’re on the defensive,”
