homeless man eating a freshly made cake. It was bad, but I was looking for any reason not to mess up the deal that we had made. Making my business partner uncomfortable was not my goal.
Liam laughed and refilled his glass. “You don't have to be nervous, Ally. I think we've discussed enough business for the evening. The wine has clearly gotten to your head if that logo is starting to look even remotely acceptable,” he said. “So tell me about yourself. Not how you'd portray yourself in a cover letter, either. I want to learn more about the real you.” I felt myself melt as he offered me a crooked smile.
The real me? I really had no idea where to begin. My past was long and strange.
There was a lot of room for judgment when it came to everything that I had been through and the person that it made me. I usually kept those kinds of things to myself, considering nobody needed to know about me to respect me as the ambitious businesswoman that I turned into, but something about Liam seemed different. He seemed genuinely interested. Perhaps it was the wine, but I felt compelled to let my guard down even if it scared the hell out of me.
I drank a rather large portion of wine from my glass in order to prepare myself to release all of the emotions that had been sitting in the pit of my stomach for so many years. I took a deep breath and looked into his patient, blue eyes. He simply waited for me to muster up the courage to tell him. He did not press me. He only waited. Something about that fact was comforting.
“Well, I grew up in a small town in Idaho. You've never heard of it so there's no reason to tell you the name,” I started. I cleared my throat and averted my gaze to the plain white wall behind him. For some reason, it made it easier to talk. “Anyway, I come from a place that doesn't really drive women to do much with themselves other than become housewives or schoolteachers if they're smart enough to go to college. There are a lot of farms. That kind of a place, you know? My mother died when I was twelve and my dad was an alcoholic. My religion helped me get through it all a bit, but it was still tough. I ended up maybe sleeping around more than I should have. We all make mistakes, you know? I haven't been down that road in a long, long time. Regardless, I guess the scars are still there a bit. I'm pretty okay most of the time, but I still won't even drive because the last time I did, I was driving my drunk dad back to his house and he tried taking the wheel from me. It ended up in the hospital. This scar is from the stitches.” I pulled my collar to show him the scar on my shoulder. It was strange how natural it felt to tell him everything. Even my therapist had not heard as much as I had just told him. “Anyway, that's my story. Um, I got sick of it, went to college, moved to New York, and here I am. That's about it. Judge me as you will.”
I gulped the last of my glass of wine as I prepared for him to tell me how much less attractive and professional I seemed from my background. However, he did not scold me with even a word of negativity. He simply looked at me, sadness in his eyes, and held out his arms to give me a hug.
Surprised by the gesture, I clutched to my empty glass and allowed him to embrace me. It felt like the safest place that I had been in my entire life.
“I am so sorry for what you went through,” he murmured, rubbing my back with his fingertips. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes, his hands still lightly touching my upper arms. “Listen, I've been to hell and back too. I never knew my father. My mother was a drug addict. There are a lot of things that I can't tell you yet, but I feel so connected to you. I hope you're the woman—er, business partner—that breaks my shell. I really do.”
I