“And he’s in investment banking, so he gets it.”
“Right. Otherwise… Boom.” Sasha snaps her fingers. “Divorce.”
Broken marriages and relationships litter the industry. Now that I think about it, I’m a statistic, too. It’d be a job in itself to count up the number of boyfriends who left me because I work too much. “So our options are limited to people in VC, PE and IB?”
“Even private equity is kinda iffy. I don’t think they work as much as we do.”
“Probably not.” Right now I’m having a casual fling with Emmett, who’s in venture capital, so it’s sort of a moot point to whine about. But suddenly my future seems to have a pall cast over it. I don’t want to limit myself to dating and marrying a man I have to make an appointment to see. And I certainly don’t want to miss our kids’ birthdays and plays and all the other special occasions.
“Or we have to quit.”
That’s even more depressing. I need the money to pay off student loans and buy Dad his dream retirement home in Florida. Can’t do that if I quit, no matter what the reason might be.
So stick to VC, PE and IB. It isn’t like you have a choice, since you were the one canceling on your boyfriends all the time. They had to make appointments to see you.
“Just look at the people who haven’t burned out yet,” Sasha says. “Nobody has kids unless they have a spouse who works nine to five and does the parent stuff. Peggy said she has no plans for kids.”
I blink. “Ever?”
“Ever.”
“How come? She adores children.” She has pictures of her twin nieces all over her desk.
“Student loans. She still owes enough to buy a house. So does her husband.” Sasha thinks for a second. “Not around here, obviously. But somewhere in the Midwest or Texas? Definitely.”
Hearing this from Sasha is crushing. It’s making me accept something I’ve been in denial about for years—that I’m not going to be able to have it all, unless I can clone myself. “It’s unfair. I thought we could do the superwoman thing if we just put our minds to it.”
“No kidding.” Sasha swallows the last bite of her BLT. “What we have is a crap-ton of student loans and busy careers. If we want more, we need to change our plans and expectations. And then adjust accordingly. Except most of us can’t or don’t want to, so…” She sighs again, then gives me a small smile. “Sorry, I’m being so gloomy when we’re finally catching up. I just feel crummy about not seeing my nephew.”
“Totally understandable,” I say, patting her arm. But a small voice in the back of my mind whispers it isn’t understandable or okay that the plan I’ve made—and been sticking to all along—could be totally wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Amy
The week is jinxed. That’s the only explanation.
My laptop crashes on Tuesday, making me lose hours of work. Since I’m in charge of the deliverable, I redo the entire model—which Excel didn’t save!
At two thirty-four a.m. the laptop decides that playing dead isn’t enough. It goes ahead and actually dies. Of course, the IT department is gone. Unlike us, they only work nine to five.
“Argh!” I clench my hands around the edges of my husk of a laptop. It’s all I can do not hurl the thing across the empty office. Pressing my thumb against the throbbing spot between my eyebrows, I pull out my phone.
–Me: The model you asked for this morning is going to be late. My laptop died, and I don’t know if the server backed up the new file or not.
I send it and huff out an annoyed breath. Emmett left at seven for a business dinner, and didn’t come back. Which means he’s home now, either sleeping or working. I put the odds at fifty-fifty, given his workaholic nature.
I should’ve waited until tomorrow morning to text him. But old habits die hard. I’m used to updating him regularly. When I was hired, Emmett told me he hates surprises. Of course, no boss likes surprises, even if they’re good ones.
–Emmett: Go home. Have IT give you a new laptop tomorrow morning.
His text is professional. Bossy. Like it always is. It’s comforting that he hasn’t let our fling change our work dynamics. But a part of me is weirdly sad that he hasn’t said anything personal.
Get a grip, Amy. You’re just tired.
Shaking myself mentally, I type up a very venture capitalist response.
–Me: Got it. I’ll give you a new ETA once I get the replacement.