I finish the remaining coffee in my mug and read the notice again, in case I was hallucinating. But nope. Amy is still quitting the firm. And by quitting the firm, she’s also quitting me.
Fuck! She isn’t going to give me a chance to explain?
The hair on the back of my neck bristles, and I look up to see Amy walking out of the elevator. I jump to my feet and signal her.
“In my office.” Despite my best attempt to appear calm and collected, my voice sounds brittle.
“Sure.”
Her eyes stay cool, her mouth unsmiling, as she places her purse and laptop bag on her desk and comes over. She shuts the door and takes a seat, crossing her legs.
“I understand that you’re mad, but don’t you think it’s a bit dramatic to quit your job?” I say, not caring about preliminaries. The two-week notice changed everything.
“No. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.” She thought about it for a few days before deciding to have a fling with me. She should at least devote that much time to her resignation!
“They’ve been quality hours,” she says thinly.
“How are you going to take care of the baby without a job? And pay for all those doctor’s visits?” I cast about for more expenses. “Your student loans. You know you can’t get rid of those.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to worry about any of that. I’ve already accepted another offer.”
“Another…” When did she interview for another job? Before or after she decided to start dating me? “Where?”
“At the Blaire Group.”
“You gotta be shitting me!”
“Nope. So you don’t have to worry about my financial situation. They offered the most benefits and money.” She says the words like she’s reading cooking instructions.
The skin under my eye starts twitching. “Let me guess. It was Marion Blaire who offered, right? In person?”
She nods. “He seems like a reasonable guy.”
“When did he approach you?”
“A few weeks ago.”
It’s a vague answer, but it means she had this fucking offer at least by the time we went to La Jolla…
“Jesus, I’ve been a dumbass,” I mutter.
Her impassive façade cracks. “What?”
“You acted like you didn’t really know Marion at the restaurant in La Jolla. But you’d already had your interview with him.”
Guilt flickers in her gaze.
Her betrayal sucker-punches me, and I clench my teeth. “He probably decided to offer for sure after that incident, if he hadn’t already.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
Too late for explanation. If she didn’t feel comfortable in La Jolla, she could’ve mentioned the offer later when I brought up the Blaire Group snapping up Webber.
“If you wanted to stay with me—were serious about joint custody or even getting married—you would’ve told me about Marion’s offer. Hell, even if there was no baby, you should’ve tried to leverage it to get more money out of GrantEm.” The fact that she stayed quiet means she was plotting to dump the firm—and me—and jet off to Virginia as soon as she hit the two-year mark with GrantEm so she
wouldn’t have to pay back her signing bonus. I’d wager my Lamborghini the last day specified in her notice is her seven hundred and thirtieth day at the firm.