“I needed the money,” she whispers. “I’ll give it all back. And I swear, Roman, I would never have done this. It was late, and I was tired, and you had just gone—” A ghost of a smile skips across her face and disappears. “I fucked up. I know it. But I didn’t mean it.”
It won’t end here. It won’t end here for me, or the resort. I yank my phone from my pocket and toss it on the desk between us. “Delete the photo.” It’s already too late. I know that. Still, it can’t stay up.
“Okay.” Jenny picks up the phone with trembling fingers. “What’s—what’s your passcode?” I wrench it back from her and type it in. “It’ll only take me a second. There are a couple of apps...” One look at me, and she presses her lips together and says nothing.
I let the silence sharpen as she clicks and scrolls.
“It’s done,” she says a minute later, putting the phone carefully back on the surface of the desk. When she looks up at me, there’s such a painful hope in her eyes that it nearly guts me. Her lip trembles.
“You’re done,” I tell her, my voice as level as I can make it. “Get your things and get out. Don’t come back.”
Her chin quivers and she opens her mouth. Closes it again.
Turns on her heel.
Goes.
23
Jenny
I haul the last box of stuff up the last five stairs into my new apartment, wrestle it in through the front door, and let it drop to the floor. Nobody downstairs will care about the noise. The only thing below me is an art gallery that’s only open three days a week even during the tourist season. It’s probably a tax shelter for the owners, but I don’t care. The only thing that counted was the minuscule rent.
It’s three steps into the center of my new living room. This place has a minuscule rent because it’s a miniscule apartment wedged above the art gallery, accessible only by a narrow staircase. Eventually, I’m sure the owners will figure out that if they did a little updating—okay, a lot of updating—they could rent this place by the night during the week of Summerfest in Ruby Bay and make a killing.
For now, it’s mine. A month ago I would have cared deeply about the cobwebs lining the corners of the tiny combination living room and kitchen. Now that my heart is dead, I can’t find it in me to be afraid of the spiders.
I took most of the day to sort things out into anything resembling a situation under control. First, there was the walk of shame back through the bullpen. Everyone’s stares felt like daggers in my skin, but Roman’s anger was the body blow. No—it was worse than anger. It was betrayal. I could hardly breathe from the weight.
I deserved to get fired.
I get the brand-new Swiffer I bought from the hardware store on the edge of town, put a cover on it, and start with the cobwebs. Evening light comes through the single window in the living room. Hopefully I’ll have this place in order by the time the sun sets. Not that anything fun will happen when the sun sets. I’m not positive I’ll be able to sleep.
Everything’s still rattling around in my head. It’s an echo chamber of shame, and not the fun kind. I hoped that Roman would change his mind against all the odds, even as I threw my things into the boxes and shoved them into the backseat of my car. Half of me wanted him to come after me and confess that even though I did something terrible, he couldn’t bear living without me. The other half wanted to be gone before he had the chance.
He never showed, so I guess I count that as half a victory.
It’s as a ridiculous hope. Nobody gets over an accidental dick pic on the internet in ninety minutes.
As soon as I was off Bliss property, I pulled over in a residential neighborhood and logged into my banking app. I sent every Penny of Connor’s money back to Global via an e-check that will be printed and arrive in seven to ten business days. The money’s already out of my account, and it makes me feel lighter. Not happier, just...lighter.
Bliss pays every two weeks, however, so the gap significantly reduced my bank account. I’m not expecting another check from them. One hard look at my bills and loans told me the truth.
I don’t have enough money to get back to New York.
Even if went there, I wouldn’t have enough for a deposit on a place to stay. There’s no telling how long it’ll take me to save up that kind of cash again, and I don’t relish the thought of crashing on people’s couches indefinitely.
Once I’ve cleaned the cobwebs, things begin to look up in the apartment. I do the kitchen next. The one box that’s not in hopeless disarray is the box of cleaning supplies from the hardware store. That makes it easier to clean, but the cleaning doesn’t shut my brain off.
I deserve that, too.
There’s a thin layer of dust over everything, and I buff and wipe and spray until I reveal the kitchen’s true self. A dull pride flits by when I finish with the stove. It looks old, but the gas turns on well, and now it’s shining...
I have a clean stove. That’s it. A clean stove and a dead heart.
I spent the rest of the afternoon looking for a place to stay. The hotel rooms around town are already going for their summer rates, so that was out of the question. This apartment was in the classifieds. I bought a physical paper to find it, and the ad reminded me of a secret code. 1 BDRM DTWN RUBY BAY. STEEP STAIRS. GAS INCL. The editors had wedged the one-liner down toward the bottom of the page, too close to the margin. Perfect. I’m always living too close to the margin.
The bathroom is in surprisingly good shape, so it doesn’t take long to soak it all in cleaner and scrub it down. It’s clear someone cared for this place until recently. What happened to them? Any other day, I might have asked more questions. Today I only had it in me to call the number and fill out a sparse rental form at the small party store on the corner. That’s where I’ll pay my rent, too. The guy there had the keys behind the counter.
I save the bedroom for last. Somehow—and I can’t fathom what kind of effort it took—the owners have wedged a full-size bed and frame into the narrow space. A chair with a wicker seat fits between the bed and the wall, doing double duty as a place to sit and a nightstand. There is a single closet, about a foot wide. You can only open the door by standing as close as possible to the chair.
I can’t complain.
I clean out the dust, load my clothes in, and shut it again.
The sheets are another story. The only way to make the bed is to climb all over it, so I push my already rolled sleeves up another inch and get to it. A comforter will only bunch up on the top, so I top it off with a throw blanket and call it good. There’s another narrow window here and I open it halfway.
That window is the real gem of the apartment. It looks out over the next building, which is a story lower, and beyond that is the downtown park. In the distance, across the park, I can see the corner of Bellissimo.
The pain in my chest catches me so off-guard I raise my hands to my breastbone on some instinct. Maybe I’m holding my heart in.
I guess it’s not dead at all.
I stand perfectly still, letting the pain come. I wanted him so badly. I know I shouldn’t have entertained even the slightest possibility, but I did.
Roman.
It’s cruel an unusual punishment not to be with him, but anybody would say it was only fair.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish for it with one hand, swiping blindly at the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, Jen.”
My sister.
The bed creaks beneath me as I sit down.
“Hi. How’s it going?”
The background noise seems...breezy, and at first it carries her voice away. “—breakdown in communication at the collective, and—out.”
“Sorry, Tia, I didn’t catch that.”
“They kicked me out,” she says, louder this time. “So I have to find a new place to stay. The only problem is—”
“I can’t.” It’s another kick to the gut, because even when everything else is going wrong, I still want to help my siste
r. “I can’t help you, Tia. I’m sorry. I don’t have the money.”
“Are you okay?” The noise behind her fades. Maybe she stepped into a doorway. I don’t know.
“No.”
“What happened?” There’s nothing but true, genuine concern in her voice. “Tell me what happened, Jenny. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I blubber, and then the whole story comes out—all of it. Connor. The sabotage. The accidental dick pic. I hear a snort when I get to that part of the story, but she covers it well. The breakup. I finally fall silent, and my sister takes a deep breath.
“Wow. That’s...a story. What are you going to do?”
“I guess stay here.” I gesture at the tiny bedroom, though she can’t see me. “I don’t have the money to go anywhere else. Or the will.” I fall back against the bed. “My heart is dead.”
“It’s not dead,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. “It’s just...dormant. You’ve been through a shock. Is there anything I can do?”
“You want to come visit for a week? Hop a bus and come stay on my couch? I have the world’s smallest apartment.” A slides down my cheek. “That’s all I can offer, really. I’ve got nothing else.”
“Oh, Jenny.” There’s a muffled scraping sound. “You have so much to offer. You just have to let people see it.”
“Yeah, well...if they see what I have to offer, they’ll see how badly I’ve fucked up, too.”
“Everyone fucks up.” She’s so sure of herself. “But it all works out.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Not for me. I—” I can hardly bring myself to say it. “I really loved him. That sounds stupid, but it’s true.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid. It sounds human. Nobody can blame you for that. Those Bliss brothers are hot. And they’re nice.”
“That’s why it’s so awful.”
“It was awful, and now it’s over, Jenny. There’s nothing you can do but move on.” She pauses. “Or try to get him back.”
“No chance of that.”
“Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right,” my sister intones. “I mean, it could have been worse, right? You could have burned the place down or embezzled money. He’ll laugh about it later.” I doubt that. “I’ll call you in a little while, okay? Once I book my bus ticket.”
That makes me smile for the first time all day.
Oh, it’ll be the worst, surviving without Roman. When the line goes dead I toss my phone onto the nightstand chair.
I’ll do it one breath at a time. I have no other choice.
24
Roman
I’m working my way through a blessedly mind-numbing pile of resort paperwork when one of my brothers clears his throat.
“Can I borrow a minute of your time?”
I raise my eyes from the one thing that’s saved me from falling into a deep depression to find that Beau didn’t come alone. He brought Charlie with him.
Beau looks…good. Surprisingly good.
I check my watch for show. It’s nearly three o’clock. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I take a second look at Beau. “There’s no drink in your hand.”
“Sick burn,” says Charlie, and Beau shoots him a withering look.
“Early to bed and early to rise makes you a boring-ass—” Beau stops when Charlie raises his eyebrows.
“What’s going on?” The two of them rarely attend meetings together. There’s also the small fact that I haven’t called a meeting. They take my question as an invitation and step into the office, each twin taking a chair.
Beau shakes out his shoulders. “The first thing I should say is that this has nothing to do with any kind of illicit photography.”
“Get out.”
“He’s serious,” Charlie chimes in. “It has nothing to do with—” He presses his lips shut at the look on my face, but I can’t help noticing that the amusement doesn’t quite fade from his eyes.
I look back to Beau. “What’s with the getup?”
He looks down at his clothes. Dress slacks. A collared shirt. It’s ironed. “I wanted to look my best when I came to make my case. Our case,” he says with a meaningful look at Charlie.
“What case is that?”
The twins look at each other and give simultaneous nods, which I find both endearing and stupid all at once. Beau makes confident eye contact. “You need to stop with this ridiculous approvals process.”
“No.” There’s paperwork to do, and a lot of other shit besides. I don’t have time for this.
“I thought you’d say that,” Beau barrels on. “That’s why I brought Charlie. Tell him, Charles.”
I narrow my eyes at the both of them. “Tell me what?”
“Since the...incident,” Charlie says carefully, “bookings at the resort building and the rental homes in the club are up. We’re even seeing more interest from buyers.”
It has seemed louder in the lobby over the past couple of weeks, but I chalked it up to a newfound sensitivity to sound. And light. Other people’s joy is abrasive. So is their chatter. It’s not the best attitude for a man who runs a resort and counts on the tourist season to bolster the rest of the year, but I’m living my truth.
Kind of.
I let Charlie’s words settle in completely before I respond. “Bookings are up,” I repeat. I’ve had my head in the sand, I can admit it. But it seems so unlikely as to be impossible.
“They started rising the day the photo went live,” Charlie says, and I can tell he’s forcing a smile off his face, that bastard. “They haven’t stopped. It’s not an exaggeration to say we’re booked.”
“How booked?”
“Booked. Through the middle of August.” That’s two weeks after the Summerfest celebration. We consider the middle of August the beginning of the off-peak season. “We have no open reservations at the main building, and the rental homes are booked through Summerfest.”
Charlie slides a sheet of paper across the desk toward me. It’s our open capacity, broken down by week. I’m seeing a stunning amount of zeroes.
“You’re fucking with me.”
Beau lets out a burst of a laugh. “Seriously, Roman, if you think anyone would dare screw around with you the way you’ve been—” Charlie saves his ass by elbowing him in the ribs. Beau coughs. “We are not kidding. I made Charlie crunch the numbers three extra times before we came in here. And I got up early. I went to the gym. I had a green smoothie at breakfast.”
Nothing lately makes me laugh, but that, at least, puts a smile on my face. Beau is serious if he’s drinking green smoothies. Those are vile.
“It’s not just us,” Charlie puts in. “Driver’s in agreement.”
“Driver? What does he have to do with this?” I shake my head. “He hasn’t been back since the last meeting I called.”
They exchange another look. I wish they wouldn’t do that. “Yeah...about that,” Beau drawls. This habit everyone has of burying the lede will be the actual death of me. “He’s been avoiding you after what happened.”
I rub both my hands over my face. “For the last time, it was not my fault that...” I can’t bring myself to say her name out loud. “I had nothing to do with that photo being posted. I can’t imagine why he’s hung up on that, but—”
“Oh, it’s not that. Your new approvals policy delayed a meeting with Greyhound.” Charlie’s watching me for my reaction.
“He had a meeting with Greyhound?”
“Didn’t you read his proposal?” My stickler-for-details brother wrinkles his brow. “It wasn’t his usual Formula One sponsorships fare, but the higher-up he was meeting with didn’t look kindly on rescheduling. They dropped the whole thing.”
For the life of me, I can’t remember what Driver’s proposal said. I remember him dropping it on my desk. I remember picking up the sheet of paper. After that...nothing.
Not nothing. After that, Jenny.
“Branded room keys,” Charlie says helpfully. “That w
as part of the idea. Not keys to actual rooms, obviously, but with discounts loaded instead for the riders.”
“Okay. Yep. I’m an asshole.”
“Thank you,” says Beau, wearing his signature grin. “We’ve been waiting for you to say it, since none of us have the balls to cross you in times like—” Charlie elbows him again and he shuts up for a beat.
Fine. They’re right. Micromanaging everyone isn’t working out for me. My life isn’t working out for me. The only thing that’s saving the resort right now is the hype from a post that Jenny never intended to make. I know she didn’t—I saw the truth in her eyes. It was too late by then. How am I supposed to forgive her for the rest?
I haven’t told a soul about it because even the thought of it makes me so fucking embarrassed. Embarrassed for believing in her. Embarrassed for letting her in.
Embarrassed for falling for her.
God, I fell so hard. I fell so hard that when she finally told me the truth, there was a part of me that wanted to let it slide.
That kind of weakness will never help us succeed.
“All right,” I say finally. “We’ll stop with the approvals. But I’m still not sure we’re on solid footing as far as finances go.”
“I’m adjusting my projections.” Charlie stands up. “We might get through this, if we can capitalize on the new wave of reservations. Jenny’s unintentional publicity stunt bought us some time, but we’ll have to buckle down.”
I can do that because I have nothing else to look forward to. It sounds hopelessly pathetic, even in my own thoughts. I never wanted to be a man who only had a job to fulfill him. But that’s all I’m left with. There’s no point in denying it.
“We’ll figure it out. Both of you, expect to meet about this soon. Beau, I’ll want more ideas for tie-in events.”
“Got it.” Beau claps his hands and rises from his seat. “You want tie-ins, I’ll get tie-ins. Now that I’ve got catering back, I can—” He shakes his head. “Nope. I’ll leave it at that. You won’t believe the events I’ll plan for you, Roman. It’ll be off the hook. Off the chain.”
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