Chương 9
Her hand was steady.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Nathan waited.
Celeste’s eyes flashed.
“That’s not enough?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re sitting there like a judge.”
“I’m sitting here.”
She looked down at the coffee.
“I lost my temper.”
“With a seven-year-old.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Celeste pressed her lips together.
“I don’t have an answer you’re going to like.”
“I didn’t ask for one I’d like.”
She looked toward the window.
People passed outside carrying umbrellas.
“I was angry before she came near me.”
Nathan waited.
“My father called me that afternoon. The Zurich committee was pushing back on the financing. Martin was blaming my structure.”
“What does that have to do with Emma?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
Celeste’s jaw tightened.
“You asked why.”
“I asked why you ordered a child onto the floor.”
“I’m telling you the state I was in.”
“No. You’re telling me what happened to you before you did it.”
She looked at him.
“That’s usually what an explanation is.”
“Not always.”
The waiter approached.
Neither of them touched the coffee until he left.
Celeste took a breath.
“When the water hit my shoe, I reacted.”
“You kicked the tray first.”
Her eyes shifted.
Nathan caught it.
Celeste corrected herself.
“She bumped me.”
“No.”
“You weren’t there.”
“Maya was.”
“She hesitated in her statement.”
Nathan leaned back.
“So you’ve seen it.”
Celeste realized the mistake.
Her mouth tightened.
“Counsel summarized it.”
Nathan waited.
Celeste rubbed the side of her thumb against the cup.
“Maya said Emma came too close with the tray. She said I moved suddenly. She said she heard the words you reported. She also said she did not see exactly where my foot connected.”
Nathan stared at her.
“You’re building a defense.”
“I have lawyers building a defense.”
“Against whom?”
“The terminal. My firm. You, if you decide to sue me.”
“I haven’t.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you talking like this?”
“Because you can leave this meeting and destroy me with one phone call.”
Nathan almost laughed.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Do you hear what’s missing?”
Celeste looked away.
Nathan said, “Emma.”
Her face tightened.
“I apologized.”
“To me.”
“I haven’t been permitted to contact her.”
“You tried to get to her through Nora.”
Celeste went still.
Nathan saw genuine shame then.
It did not last.
“I wanted context.”
“You asked if she exaggerates.”
“I asked if she has a tendency to misunderstand adult interactions.”
“She was on her knees wiping your shoe with her sleeve.”
Celeste’s voice sharpened.
“I did not make her wipe anything.”
Nathan stared.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, something had changed.
Not remorse.
Exhaustion.
“I told her to use her sleeve.”
Nathan’s hands went cold.
Celeste swallowed.
“I said it. I know I said it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
Her eyes filled.
She looked furious about it.
Not dramatic tears.
Just moisture she blinked away.
“My mother used to do that.”
Nathan said nothing.
Celeste’s fingers tightened around the cup.
“If we spilled something, if we marked a floor, if we embarrassed her in a store, she would make us fix it immediately. In front of people.”
Nathan watched her.
“She once made my brother clean mud off a hotel wall with his T-shirt while he was wearing it.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes.”
“You did the same thing.”
Celeste flinched.
“I know.”
The answer landed differently from everything else she had said.
Nathan looked toward the window.
A delivery cyclist stopped beneath an awning and shook water from his sleeves.
Celeste continued.
“I hated her for it.”
Nathan looked back.
“I’m sure you did.”
“I spent half my adult life trying not to be like her.”
“And for twelve seconds you were.”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Nathan sat very still.
There it was.
The explanation he had wanted.
It changed almost nothing.
That surprised him.
Celeste opened her eyes.
“I’m not asking you to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“What are you asking?”
“For proportionality.”
Nathan laughed softly.
“You’re still negotiating.”
“Of course I am.”
Her old sharpness returned.
“People negotiate when something matters.”
“My daughter mattered before you knew who she was.”
Celeste recoiled as if he had struck the table.
He did not feel victorious.
He felt tired.
Celeste looked down.
“I thought she was Maya’s niece or something.”
“You thought she belonged to someone who couldn’t hurt you.”
Celeste said nothing.
Nathan knew he had guessed correctly.
The realization was uglier than the childhood story.
Her cruelty had not been uncontrolled.
Not entirely.
Some part of her had believed the person receiving it was safe to mistreat.
Celeste rubbed one thumb beneath her eye.
“I was awful.”
“Yes.”
“I am not always awful.”
“No.”
Her gaze lifted sharply.
Nathan continued.
“That’s what makes this harder.”
Celeste’s mouth trembled once.
She looked away.
Nathan had loved that she rarely cried.
Now he wondered whether he had loved it because tears asked something of him.
Celeste said, “Martin is going to pull the financing.”
“I know.”
“I can stop him.”
Nathan looked at her.
She continued.
“He’ll keep the deal if I stay lead and if the personal complaint doesn’t expand.”
“There it is.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“You’re offering me money.”
“I’m offering your company forty million dollars on terms you already accepted.”
“Conditional on what?”
“On us behaving like adults.”
Nathan laughed again.
This time several people at nearby tables glanced over.
He lowered his voice.
“Define adults.”
“No press.”
“I’ve never threatened press.”
“No civil claim.”
“I haven’t threatened that either.”
“No demand that Arden remove me from the transaction.”
Nathan stared at her.
“So I continue doing business with you.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Celeste’s face went still.
“Nathan.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard—”
“I heard enough.”
“You will lose Chicago.”
“Maybe.”
“People will lose jobs.”
“Maybe.”
“You will lose control of your next round.”
“Probably.”
Celeste leaned forward.
“And you think that makes you principled?”
Nathan felt the old instinct wake in him.
The need to defend.
May you like
To win.
To explain that she had forced this.
