Holding Her Breath (Indigo) (31 page)

When she told Bettina she was leaving, the woman was horrified.

Her green eyes widened and she latched onto Whitney’s arm. “No. You can’t go. I can’t be at this place without you, Whit.”

She laughed. “You’ll be fine.”

“Well, you have to at least promise me we’ll keep in touch.” Bettina hugged her.

“We will.”

“Oh, and I’m so proud of you for standing up to Kim.” Bettina looked around and lowered her voice before saying, “Nobody likes her.”

Whitney smiled. “Thanks.”

Bettina flashed her a smile. “Of course.”

“I’m going to my office. I have some calls to make. I’ll call you into my office soon to talk about helping me wrap things up here. Oh, and if you see Ulrich walking around, can you send him in?”

“Sure.”

Whitney made some calls and sent some emails before getting down to the gritty business of typing up her resignation letter. She was halfway through writing it, after having deleted several hundred words. She kept deleting what she typed. She couldn’t find the right words. Her palms were sweaty and her hands unsteady even though she knew she was doing the right thing.

Ulrich knocked on the door before poking his head in. “Whit?”

She sat back from her desk and swiveled her chair toward him. She waved him into her office.

He walked into the room and slid into a chair across from her, in front of her desk. “What’s this crazy mess I hear about you quitting?”

“Word travels fast around here.”

“Don’t act surprised.”

She laughed. “I guess you’re right about that.” She twisted her thin gold bracelet around her wrist before looking at him. “Sorry. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“So. You’re really going to leave me to fend for myself in this place, huh?”

“You’ll be fine. Really,” she said. Ulrich was going to make partner. There was no doubt about that. Andersen had invited him out golfing with some of the other unofficial partners-to-be the previous weekend.

“Why are you doing this?” Ulrich leaned forward in his chair. “You want partner as bad as I do. You’re not really going to let Kim run you off, are you?”

Whitney shook her head, tapping a pen on her desk top and looking between it and Ulrich several times before she spoke. “No. I’m not. I thought this was what I really wanted, but I was wrong. Really, really wrong.”

“I don’t get it. You’ve worked your ass off around this place for the past few years. For all the time I’ve known you. No matter about Kim. The partners have noticed. And I’d be willing to vouch for you. Lay down on the line for you.”

“I appreciate that. I really do. But this life isn’t for me. I had a wake-up call recently. One I really, really needed without ever realizing that I did.”

“Is this about that Chace guy?”

Her heart beat faster at the mention of his name. “Parts of it.” She smiled weakly. “And most of it is about me. And being happy. And not dreading where I’m headed when I wake up in the morning.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure leaving is something you really want to do.” Ulrich looked skeptical even as he spoke. “Is it really what’s best for you?”

“It is.”

“I guess I’ll have to accept that,” he said. “You have something lined up?”

She told him about Abbott’s friend and the opening at her non-profit.

“I guess there’s not much else to say. Except…I’ll give Kim hell for you.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Be good, Whit.”

“Good luck with partner, although you won’t need it.”

“Thanks.”

“We’ll stay in touch, right?”

“Of course.” He walked out of her office and shut the door behind him.

Everything suddenly felt new and scary all over again, but she wouldn’t let herself give into that. Instead of banging her head on her keyboard like she wanted to, she went back to working on her resignation letter.

* * *

There was something Chace loved about a darkroom. It was the main reason he couldn’t give up using his one last film camera, even though he’d converted over almost completely to digital. He couldn’t leave film behind completely—especially black and white.

Being in the darkroom surrounded by photos and trays and nothing else. The dim red light. The photo paper. Developing photos, making the images arise from blank sheets of glossy paper. The whole process was therapeutic.

When Chace had gotten back to D.C., he’d gone to see Archie at his camera shop. Archie had agreed to let Chace use his darkroom. He’d converted the shed in his backyard into one. Archie lived over the Maryland line, just outside of D.C. in Takoma Park. It was nice out there. Quiet. Peaceful. Suburban. And in that darkroom, Chace could lose himself in another world.

Chace insisted on disturbing his own peace, though. He’d finally decided to develop some photos of Whitney he’d put off developing ever since that last time he’d seen her.

A sad smile creased his face as hers began coming into relief. Whitney laughing so hard she was doubled over. She’d been crying out that her stomach hurt from laughing so much when he took that one. Whitney with a smudge of flour on her forehead, trying to look cross with him even though she couldn’t stop smiling. That one was from the night she’d tried to cook for him.

A small frown of concentration on her face. Her laptop had been inches away from her face when he’d snuck up on her and taken that one. A close-up. He’d nearly gotten himself killed over that one. He chuckled at the memory.

Walking down the street with her hands stuck in her pockets, her scarf blowing in the breeze. He was amazed that some of his shots from that day had come out so well. The wind had been so crazy and they’d been walking down the street so he hadn’t had his tripod with him. It was like it’d been meant to be.

Meant to be. What about him and Whitney? Was that meant to be? Every time he thought of her, he hurt. He hadn’t asked Rob about her since coming back to D.C. He’d stopped asking when he realized Rob didn’t like talking about it because he felt trapped in the middle. He knew that she’d stopped coming to their place—Rob always went over to hers. And he hadn’t tried to call her since he’d left Ethan’s place. He would pick up his phone and realize he had no idea what to say. Then he started telling himself that he wouldn’t even bother until Kelly told him the news. That was no excuse, but it felt good to make a decision—especially a decision that allowed him to put off something he wasn’t sure he even knew how to do.

Chace dipped a sheet of photo paper into a tray filled with a chemical-based solution. He had no idea what to say to her anyway. He loved her, sure, but were they good for each other? She was the professional, structured life, high-stress type. Him? Pretty much the exact opposite. He’d tried that high-stress corporate lifestyle, and he knew it didn’t work for him. Then, if there was a baby, that was a whole new level of complication.

Chace had secured a show at a local gallery. He should have been more excited. Maybe he would be once he actually had an idea of what he wanted to show. And if he could get the bitter taste of losing Whitney out of his mouth. She was all he wanted, but he had no idea how to get her or get through to her. Why did everything always have to be so complicated with her? Why couldn’t anything ever be clear-cut?

“That’s it,” Chace whispered, removing a picture of Whitney with the saddest expression he’d ever seen on her face from the tray. “It’s not so black and white,” Chace said to the picture. He looked up at one of the pictures hanging above him drying. One of the few featuring both himself and Whitney. She was turned toward him and their fingers were entwined. They’d kissed a few moments after that shot. He’d set the timer on his camera. There was an intensity between them. Not happiness. Not sadness. Just an intensity. Love.

That was it. His collection. His wonderful even if brief time with Whitney. It had been anything—everything—but black and white. He had a title. It’s Not So Black and White. Because it never was when it mattered. He thought back to Ethan’s words. Ethan had been right. He’d been an idiot, and he had to make it up to her—in a huge way.

He was anxious to finish developing his photos and get home. Whereas he’d been taking his time, dreading leaving the darkroom earlier, he picked up the pace. He had to get home and sort through the rest of his photos.

He had to call June, the gallery owner, as soon as he got home. He was ready for his first show. He wanted her to know she had nothing to worry about, and he wanted to thank her again for the opportunity. Everything was coming together at the right moment and in the right way. His brain was already working overtime with fresh ideas flitting through it.

She wanted to call them first and get it over with, but her stomach twisted at the thought of the people she had to tell about her decision. She stared at the phone, hoping that would somehow help her get her nerve up to call her grandparents. It wasn’t going to get any easier. She just had to pick the phone up and call them. So she did.

“Hello?” Her grandmother’s voice came through, cold and crisp, after the second ring.

“Hi. It’s Whitney.” She put the phone on speaker so that she could set it next to her on the sofa. She drew her knees up to her chest.

There was a short pause before a drawn out, speculative-sounding response. “Yes?”

“I called because I have something important to tell you.”

“And it is?”

Whitney took a deep breath. “Is granddad there?”

“He’s upstairs.”

“He should hear this. Can you get him to pick up on the line as well?”

“Whitney, what is it you’re talking about? I’m getting concerned.”

“I’m here,” her grandfather said. Apparently he’d picked up on his own. “What’s going on?”

“Okay,” her grandmother said, her voice strained. “We’re both on the line now. What is this important news?”

Whitney rushed the words out before she could lose her nerve. “I quit Gibson and Grey.” She pulled her knees closer to her body. “Yesterday.”

There was complete silence on the other end.

“Grandma? Granddad?”

After a heavy sigh, her grandmother said, “Weren’t you going to be up for partner soon?”

“It’s a long story, but I realized that’s not what’s important to me. There are things more important in life than so-called prestige and titles.” She thought of Chace and felt a brief pang of sadness.

“Like?”

“Doing something I’m passionate about.” She told her grandparents about One Justice For All.

“What is this nonsense?” her grandmother asked. “You’ve quit a perfectly good job to squander away your life and your legal education on a career path—if you can even call it that—that is beneath you. If you want to help people, donate to charity, but don’t throw away your career. What has caused you to derail your entire life?”

Not what. Who. But she wasn’t going to tell her grandparents about Chace. They would only put him down. And what was the point? He was out of her life now anyway. She tried to ignore the sadness that came with that thought. “It’s just time I do this. Make this change for myself.”

“Is this some sort of crisis? Perhaps you should seek professional help.”

“It’s not a crisis. It’s part of who I really am. I’m not going to live a false life any longer.” The words had sounded better in her head earlier, before she called her grandparents.

“You have too much of your father in you.”

“Whether or not that’s true, I’m tired of living my life for everybody else. I’m sick and tired of trying to pay for my father’s mistakes. I know you’ve never told me I had to, but I’ve always felt like I had to make up for what he did.” She took a deep breath. “You’ve never hesitated to pull that guilt card, though. You drop little hints about him whenever you feel like things aren’t going the way you want them to.”

“What makes you think you can talk to us this way?”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. My tone was a little out of line. But I meant what I said. I’m finally happy.” Talking to her grandparents, she was starting to feel unsure about her decision. Maybe after all her option weighing, she’d still made the wrong decision. Had she acted on a stupid impulse because Kim had made her angry and Chace being gone was making her crazy?

“And how happy will you be when you realize you’ve been a fool and it’s too late to get back the important things in life?”

“That’s not going to happen. Not now that I’ve finally realized what’s truly important.” She hoped that was true anyway.

“You’re being irrational.” Her grandmother sounded completely disappointed in her. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“I care about you, and I know you think you know what’s best for me.” She ran her hands through her hair and tugged at the ends of it. “But I also now know that trying to please others isn’t worth being miserable. There needs to be a balance. A balance that allows me to actually live life instead of watching it pass me by. Or worse, being too busy to even watch it.”

“We’ll talk again after you regain your senses.” Her grandmother hung up before Whitney could say anything else.