Page 92 of Never Bargain with the Boss
I’ve got nothing but time now.
That’s true. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I booked this room for tonight too, figuring I’d need a place to decide my next move. Am I going to stay here? Travel? Take a break? It’s strange to think that only a few months ago, I was having these same thoughts and it felt like life had led me right where I was supposed to be when I got the job with Cameron and Grace.
Now, the questions and their potential answers feel like they’re leading me further and further away from what I want.
You don’t always get what you want, Riley.
Isn’t that the truth?
First things first, I throw the blankets off and crawl out of bed. Bleary-eyed, both from sleep and crying, I grab the trash bag and dump its contents onto the other bed. “I’m not a throwaway,” I tell the bag, but the declaration is weak at best, a lie at worst.
It’s stupid for a piece of plastic to mean so much, but it does. It feels like such a regression, of me, of how far I’ve come, of my self-worth.
The room looks exponentially messier, but it feels better without that visual of a trash bag with my belongings stuffed inside. I’m angrily wadding up the bag when there’s a knock at the door.
I learned my lesson all too well, and this time, I look through the peephole. Janey, Kayla, and Miranda are standing in the hallway, staring back at me.
I can’t answer. Not now. Not like this. I’m too sensitive, too raw, my scars tender from the fresh cuts over damage I thought I’d healed. I step back from the door, fidgeting with the bag in my hand.
“We know you’re in there, so you might as well open the door, Riley,” Kayla declares. I’ve heard her being friendly, giving her brothers shit, and being polite. This version of Kayla is none of those. She sounds like a cold, hard bitch, and I wonder if this is the professional version of her. Cameron told me she’s a beast in the boardroom and takes special delight in mercilessly correcting people when they underestimate her.
I’ve never underestimated her. I thought she was amazing. I wanted us to be friends and hoped we were on our way to developing that type of connection.
Apparently not, because I have no doubt she’s here to have me sign an NDA and severance package contract, something I’ve done before for employers. She’s here to be Cameron’s iron fist.
I might as well get this over with, so I stiffen my spine and open the door. “How did you know where I was?”
It’s a valid question. I’ve been here less than twelve hours and obviously had no plan to come here, picking the first decent hotel I saw when I felt the tsunami-size crush of tears coming, but I think what I really mean is why are they here and not circling around Cameron.
Janey looks at me like I asked her how they knew the sky is blue because the answer is obvious. “Cole.”
The tears start again, and I’m instantly a blubbering disaster. “Sorry, I’m a mess,” I tell them. Well, mostly Janey because she’s the one who immediately wraps her arms around me.
“Be a mess. It’s fine,” she whispers soothingly, not caring that I’m getting snot on her fuzzy sweatshirt when it likely has Emmett’s breakfast on it somewhere too.
“We’re all a mess, the world is a mess, the universe is a mess. I think messy might be the proper order of things,” Kayla agrees, waving a hand in cynical exasperation as she struts right in. Even at this early hour, she looks impeccable in heels, tailored jeans, a cashmere turtleneck, and a wool overcoat, with perfectly curled hair and fresh makeup. I think this is her version of ‘casual’. Though, considering it’s a weekday, I’m surprised she’s not dressed for work. I’m surprised she’s notatwork and is here, which again reminds me that she probably has some paperwork for me to sign.
Miranda follows her, and I feel her concern when she lays a warm palm on my back. “Oh, honey.”
I glance at Kayla. “I think your brother would disagree with you on principle.”
She rolls her eyes and huffs, “My brother is afuckingidiot.”
I blink, not expecting that.
Miranda tuts, at least slightly. “Now, Kayla, don’t speak poorly of your brother like that. Let me do it. My sonisan idiot, Riley. I’m sorry. I did the best I could, but there are things broken in him that I had nothing to do with.”
“What?” I look from one to the next, more confused now than I was before.
“Can we sit down and talk?” Miranda asks gently. I think I nod, or maybe I just don’t say no, because she scoots the pile of clothes on the bed out of her way and sits down, crossing her legs like she’s sitting on a throne, not the ruins of my life.
Kayla drops her coat on the desk and takes the cheap wooden chair, and Janey guides me to the other bed. I sit, and she plops down right beside me. It feels like this conversation is about to suck really badly. But if I’m ever going to feel anything otherthan hurt again, I need to process this, and Janey’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend so I appreciate her presence.
“What happened last night? I heard Cameron’s version last night when he came over to pick up Grace, but?—”
I interrupt to ask, “Are they okay?”
She nods, but her eyes say she doesn’t really think so. “They’re at home today. Cameron didn’t want Grace to go to school. I think he needs her close.”