With the sleep deprived pounding behind Brent’s closed eyes, he made a decision. He wouldn’t quit, and he hadn’t been fired; however, without a doubt—he wasn’t getting paid enough to put up with this shit! He deserved a raise, and if Tony weren’t around, then damn, that was something Brent could facilitate on his own! This shit deserved more money!

I'm not throwing you away! I'm setting you free.

Their journey wasn’t complete. If their
relationship had been a poker tournament, unquestionably, they’d not been dealt the best cards. When faced with the same odds, as Tony and Claire, many players would have folded and walked away. They hadn’t—they’d continued to play. In the process they’d grown and changed. At one time, they were opponents, strategizing against one another, now they were teammates, yet their tournament wasn’t over. It was too early to declare the winner. They both knew there were more cards to be revealed.

My life hasn't been perfect, yet I've never wasted my time envying anyone else. If something wasn't the best it could be - I made it better.

She sat back down, arms once again crossed over her breasts. It was the most direct she’d ever spoken to him, and it felt liberating. Unfortunately, the resentment coursing through her veins wouldn’t allow her to relish her new found independence.
She expected her words to incite anger; after all, she’d experienced his anger before. Nevertheless, carelessly and unapologetically Claire forged ahead, “I would prefer the words, but you are welcome to say, one through four, if that’s easier for you.

Tony poured wine into each glass and handed one to Claire. “Do you remember when we had wine at the Red Wing?”
Claire closed her eyes, recalling the scene from a lifetime ago, and nodded. “I do.”
“I’d been watching you for years. I was so nervous that night. I thought I was planning your acquisition.” He looked into his red liquid.
Her stance straightened, “If you’re using business metaphors, may I suggest hostile takeover. It’s more appropriate.