Chapter Thirty
THREE YEARS LATER
“Your two o’clock meeting got moved to three, your hairstylist confirmed for Sunday, I made reservations for lunch with Ty Winstock at Avenue for Thursday, the mic for yourWomen on Wall Streetpodcast interview arrived this morning, and—” Lizzy paused for breath. “You have a visitor.”
Olivia sent her email update about PHC’s progress on the SolarTech deal to the firm’s partners and managing directors before glancing up. “Details.”
She wasn’t expecting any visitors today, but that had never stopped her friends from dropping in when they felt like it—though she suspected their eagerness had more to do with the Chris Hemsworth look-alike analyst who worked on her floor than it did with her.
“5’6”, head-to-toe Calvin Klein, incredibly scary before I got her her caffeine fix.”
Olivia grinned. “We’re sisters for a reason.”
“Don’t I know it.” Her assistant/secretary/all-around goddess gave an exaggerated shudder. “I have one more message, though.”
“Go on.” Olivia already knew what it was, but her heart still fluttered like a schoolgirl when Lizzy handed her a cupcake and a note. Sammy sent her one every Monday—to start her week off on a good note, he said. (Pun intended).
They’d eloped two years ago and tied the knot in Lake Tahoe. Olivia had always pictured her wedding as a grand affair—had relished the thought of all the planning and spreadsheets she’d get to do in the run-up to her big day. But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the vision Sammy had painted that night in Italy—of running off to the mountains, just the two of them. So that was what they did.
They did host a small reception attended by their closest friends and family when they returned—mostly to prevent themselves from being murdered by said friends and family for not telling them about their nuptials beforehand—but Olivia’s most cherished wedding memory would always be their tiny ceremony on a mountaintop.
No fancy decorations, no long list of guests, no crazy wedding dress or elaborate choreography. Just her, Sammy, and the drumbeat of their love rolling through the crisp mountain air.
That was all they’d needed.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Lizzy asked.
“Nope.” Olivia knew better. Most of the notes were sweet, but a few were downright filthy. The last time she read one in front of Lizzy, she started choking on air and turned so red Lizzy almost called 911. She got her revenge later that night—the handcuffs Tamara bought her as a gag gift one Christmas came in handy—but it was better not to alarm her assistanttoomuch.
Lizzy sighed. “Fine. Deprive me of my opportunity to live vicariously through you.”
“You’ll survive.” Lizzy was in no way hurting for excitement. She’d once come back from vacation engaged to a duke—only to break off the engagement two weeks later when she found out he had a kid and estranged wife he’d failed to tell her about.
Olivia walked into her sprawling office and draped her coat over the arm of the couch. “How does it feel?” she quipped.
Alina spun one last time in her desk chair before standing up. “Great. That’s an excellent chair. Ergonomic, sturdy, comfortable. Adjusted to the perfect height.”
“It better be. It cost $500.” Olivia laughed and hugged her sister. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me the clinic succeeded in wooing you after all.”
Alina had been close to signing a contract with the private San Francisco clinic that had wanted to hire her as their anesthesiologist three years ago, but a Chicago clinic had swept in and outbid them at the last minute.
“Not yet.” Alina grinned. “I was in L.A. for a conference and took a quick trip up to see my little sis. How is my niece or nephew doing?”
Olivia flinched. “Shhh!” She closed the door to her office and peered out the window to see if anyone had overheard. The only person nearby was Lizzy, who was busy unboxing her podcast mic. “People will hear.”
“Why? What’s the big...oh.” Alina’s eyes grew round. “You haven’t told them yet.”
“No.” Olivia rested a hand on her stomach, her anxiety battling with joy and excitement. Her doctor had confirmed it a month earlier: she was pregnant. Eight weeks along, to be exact. She wasn’t showing yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Personally, Olivia was over the moon. Professionally, she was nervous as hell. As far as Wall Street firms went, PHC was pretty progressive, especially since it’d added a woman (finally!) to its board of directors last year and promoted another to partner. But the stigma against pregnant women still existed in the industry, and Olivia had heard too many horror stories about expecting mothers who were treated poorly after they announced their pregnancy and demoted after they returned from maternity leave. Some of them got firedduringmaternity leave.
Olivia knew she couldn’t keep her pregnancy a secret forever, but she was dragging out the announcement until she could come up with a solid backup plan in case things went sideways.
“Do you really think they’ll freak out?” Alina asked.
“I don’t know. Other than Michael, I’m the highest-ranking person in this office, so they won’t say anything to my face, but I’m not sure what to expect from HQ.” Olivia shook her head. “I’ll figure it out.”
She’d come a long way since her first summer in California. She was now a director at Pine Hill Capital—one step above the vice-president, and one rung below Michael’s managing directorship. He’d ceded most of the day-to-day management in the San Francisco office to her, and rumor had it he was planning to retire in the next few years, which would leave an MD spot open.