Page 29 of The Deadbeat DILF
While my family slept in, Robert and I woke up and got ready for the day.
We moved the couch back to the living room, and I went into my wardrobe to dress for work. I picked out a suit-skirt set. Both the blazer and pencil skirt were made of a thick, dark purple, almost navy material. With it, I wore a white blouse and a pair of simple closed-toe pumps. While I loved to buy pretty clothes for myself, I always dressed more plainly for the office. Clients were less likely to take you seriously if they thought you looked too girly.
After pulling my hair into a ponytail, I applied some light makeup. Robert was in the kitchen by the time I was done, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast lingering in the air. He had his back to me while he fixed us both a cup of coffee, wearing a pair of jeans and a black-and-gray flannel shirt over a white t-shirt.
He always looked so good. Everything would be so much simpler if he wasn’t so disastrously handsome.
“Morning. Did you sleep well?” I asked, stepping up to his side.
Robert nodded, but I noticed he had slight dark circles under his eyes. Maybe he’d had trouble falling asleep on the couch. Or maybe it had been uncomfortable for him to sleep in the same room as me.
“I buttered some toast, but I pulled the jam out in case you wanted that too.”
“Thank you,” I said, helping myself to a slice. “Are you looking forward to work?”
He nodded. “It’s tough some days, but rewarding. I like my coworkers. Some of them don’t say much, but they’re all hard workers.” He bumped his shoulder against mine. “What about you? How are you upholding justice today?”
I chuckled. “I don’t know about ‘upholding justice,’” I said. “It’ll be another day defending one company from another company. Or,” I said, with a sheepish look, “protecting one corporation or another from the clutches of the government.”
“Hey, what’s with that face? It’s still pretty cool.”
I laughed self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I love my work, but I know that at the end of the day, I’m making rich people even richer.” I glanced down the hallway where the spare bedrooms were located, my family sleeping behind the closed doors. “My family definitely judges me because I’m not working tirelessly in human rights.”
I still remember my first year of law school. There’d been so many students, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to make a positive difference in the world. Some wanted to do environmental law. Others, the children of immigrants, wanted to do immigration law. Then, of course, were those who wanted to protect freedom of speech or the right to education.
I watched as one by one, all of those students were swept away by job offers from big corporate law firms, promising high salaries, career progression opportunities, and endless benefits.
At least I never had any illusions about what I wanted. From the start, I was aiming for the highest salary I could get. It made me sound materialistic and selfish, but all I ever wanted was financial freedom.
Now, Robert shook his head, scrunching his face up like what I said was ridiculous. “Come on. It’s not like your family is out on the streets helping others, are they?” His hand brushed mine, and his expression turned serious. “You’re a good person, Brooke. Better than me, anyway.”
My breath caught, and I parted my lips to ask what he meant. But before I could say anything, he abruptly let go and checked the time. “I better get going. Can’t be late. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, watching him rush out of the apartment.
After the front door closed, I poured my coffee into a travel mug, grabbed a piece of toast with a napkin, and headed out of the apartment. After how tense yesterday was, it was a good idea for everyone to have a little space from each other today.
Once I got to the office, I threw myself into my work, grateful for the distraction. It meant I didn’t have to think about my family or Robert.
Now and then, I’d look up from my computer screen to the view through my windows. Towering skyscrapers looked back at me, steel and silver, with thousands of reflective mirrors. Down below, streets crisscrossed, and people walked on the sidewalks, so tiny they looked like pushpins.
My whole life, I’d worked for this view. I was valedictorian of my high school, and I won a scholarship for college. I spent countless hours studying. Even for Ashcroft, I did mock interview after mock interview to make sure I nailed the real deal.
I worked for everything. Every dollar in my bank account. Every nice thing in my home. I’d got what I wanted: financial freedom. But it still wasn’t enough.
I didn’t need more money. But as I grew more successful, my family grew more distant, and I realized just how lonely I was. Sure, I had my friends, but they were busy with work, like I was.Now that Alison was with Cameron, she had even less time for her friends, which I completely understood.
I did try to date for a while, but I never found anyone who truly got me. Maybe it’s because everyone in my network came from affluent families and played golf with their fathers on Sundays. No one related to my upbringing, and they didn’t understand my strained relationship with my family.
I didn’t want our relationship to be strained.
Was it my fault? Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. I had been irritable yesterday. When I returned home, I’d be more patient. I’d try to repair things — to be a good daughter and sister.
My optimistic attitude lasted throughout the rest of the workday, and as I headed back home after work, I had a pep in my step. Maybe we could all watch a movie tonight? Maybe something from my childhood. Brandon had always lovedAladdin. We would laugh all together and —
My thoughts were interrupted by muffled voices inside my apartment. I unlocked the door, a bright greeting on my tongue.
That’s when I saw the state of my home.
