I recognized that tone in her voice and knew the prelude to a Celeste Coulson threat. “I’m doing everything I can think of to get ahead of this. I know Lachlan is an innocent bystander, and we’ll make that clear to the public and his investors.”
Her hand covered mine, making my engagement ring disappear. “Olivia, when things went bottom-up for you in college, I stepped in to offer you an internship and my assistance without hesitation. Do you know why?”
“You needed a babysitter.” Apparently I was now too tired to filter.
“No.” Celeste grimaced. “Well, yes, true, but also because I saw a fighter in you. And I saw myself. You were a hard worker, determined, and always operated from a place of discipline and maybe a tiny bit of anger. My instincts were spot-on, weren’t they?” An answer wasn’t required, and she didn’t wait for one. “Now my instincts are telling me that you might know more than you’re letting on.”
“Celeste, nobody wants to hear from Lachlan more than I do, and as soon as he contacts me, you will be the first person I call.”
Her hand gave my fingers a little squeeze. “Think long and hard, Olivia. I’ve always taught you the importance of having an ace up your sleeve to save for emergencies. Surely my New York-bound senior brand manager hassomethingelse to give me?”
This was dangerous territory, and I wanted to escape before Celeste wore me down. “Nothing.”
She pulled off her glasses, giving me the unfiltered wattage of her stare. “This is your husband we’re talking about. You live with the man. You don’t have anything to bring to the table we could use to turn this around? A personal story he’s shared? A business detail that would be industry news? A tidbit that could drum up sympathy or relatability? My dear, a never-released, personal interest nugget could restore all doubt and save Lachlan’s reputation.”
“Lachlan donated a hundred thousand dollars to create a STEM scholarship fund at the high school last week.”
She tossed up her hands. “Who cares? People could still think he’s as crooked as his Chief Financial Officer.”
“He paid for dinner for the whole restaurant when we went out a few nights ago.”
Celeste pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re deliberately offering crumbs, when what I need is the loaf of bread. Now start talking, or I will need to seriously reconsider my choice for New York.” When that didn’t register the response Celeste expected, she tried again. “Think of Lachlan. It’s not that his dream will die a horrible, painful death. It won’t. What it will do is flounder in mediocrity, which to him—or anyone with a dream—is a fate worse than failure. You and Lachlan both have everything on the line, and now so does Flair. If Lachlan or his company goes down, even for a season, then so do we.” She clutched my hand in hers. “If you have the power to save Lachlan, you must do it.”
The guilt of withholding information—it was too much. I wanted to be the brand manager Celeste dreamed of, the one I’d worked so hard to become. But mostly, I wanted to help my husband. There was no chance Lachlan was affiliated with Maxwell’s fraud, and it killed me to think anyone would think for a moment he was. Lachlan was brave, kind, and he’d worked too hard for his reputation to go up in flames in one weekend. “There are some things about Lachlan’s life I wish I could tell the world.”
“Yes?”
“But he has a right to his privacy.” Lachlan had sworn me to silence, and he’d meant business.
It’s just that if the world knew that Benjamin Emmerich was Lachlan’s father and how the man had cast his son away, only for Lachlan to rise from the ashes and overcome, wouldn’t they love and respect Lachlan all the more? Everyone rallied behind an underdog. Lachlan was a self-made success who had defied incredible odds, only to enter the boxing ring with the man who had hurt him most. I’d mentally written this narrative until it was worth an Oscar.
But I could never share it, and I wouldn’t. “It’s not my story to tell, Celeste.”
“Honey.” Celeste placed her glasses on the table, her voice softening to almost a motherly coo. “We’ve known each other a long time. In those years we’ve gone through a lot together, haven’t we?”
“We have.”
“You saw me at my worst when my husband walked out. You supported me when my mother passed away. I’d like to think I was there for you when a certain Flair employee broke your heart.”
Celeste had given me half a day off and instructions on how to build a bonfire with the things Taylor had left at my apartment.
My boss took a slow inhale and let her posture slacken ever so slightly, a rare sign of her own weariness. “Let’s forget business. Forget all about the demands of Flair—your role, my role, our mutual drive to squash every single opponent and be number one.”
“I’m not sure how to even occupy that headspace.”
With a breathy laugh, Celeste rubbed her temple. “Admittedly, it hurts a bit, but push through the brain cramp and forget our work titles. Right now it’s just you and me sitting here. Celeste and Olivia. Friend to friend. Fellow women who toil long and hard and need a safe place to vent.” She got up and refilled her water glass, then slid a glass over for me. “Here’s a confession for you. On Saturday nights I often wake up in a dead panic, reviewing all the ways I’ve failed my kids that week. To make up for it, I buy them expensive things they don’t even need. I’m never home, I can’t keep their calendars straight, and I’ve missed way too much of their lives in my pursuit of success. It’s a hamster wheel I don’t know how to exit.”
I sat with that a moment. “Wow.” So Celeste did know she was phoning it in as a parent—and she did care. That gave me a little hope for her and her children.
“I trust you to keep that to yourself.” She tipped back the glass and took a quick sip. “You blab that, and I’ll demote you to assistant to the interns. The ones working on the account for plant-based pimple cream.”
A grin tugged at my lips, even as I checked my texts one more time. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Popping a block of cheese in her mouth, Celeste resumed her seat. “That felt good to share. Now, is there anything you’d like to confide? You have my word I won’t pass it on to anyone else at Flair.”
The desire to tell Celeste absolutely everything pulsed so strongly. I wanted to unzip my lips and let it all gurgle out—the drug-induced marriage, the bargain I’d struck with Lachlan thanks to my insane need to win that promotion, and even the very real chance I’d fallen in love with the man who was now shutting me out. And, let’s not forget the personal details of Lachlan’s that could shut off the open valve of public distrust for him and his company.
“If you want more to convince you this is a circle of trust,” Celeste said, “I can tell you I went on my first date in years last weekend, and I spilled wine on the gentleman and twice called him by my ex-husband’s name.” She lifted her water glass in a mock salute. “Needless to say, I was not shocked when I didn’t get a second date.”
