“When?”
“Soon.”
He stared at me. “So you’ve filed then.”
“Um, not yet. No. But soon. Just as soon as I’ve been here long enough they won’t throw me out of the country.”
“You know,” he said finally, “the point isn’t that you are or aren’t married, or have or have not filed for a divorce. The point is you basically lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie exactly,” I said. But it sounded lame even to my own ears.
“Get real, Kate. We’re beyond that bullshit. You hid the truth from me. I found out through the fucking paper. The entire world knew before I did.”
And there was the heart of it. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I tried to tell you.” I was desperate. I had to make him understand.
“When?”
“At the wedding. In the car. You kept putting me off, and I guess I was too scared to push it.”
“You should have told me long before that, Kate.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late for that. I am tired of people lying to me. I thought you were different.”
I wanted to tell him I was different, but it was sort of hard to pull off when clearly I’d not told him the truth from the beginning. “I’m sorry.” Maybe if I kept saying it enough, he’d believe me. Forgive me.
He stared at me with that mask-like face for a long time. Then he whirled and strode to the door, throwing it open. “I think you should leave now.”
“Adam?”
“It’s over, Kate. Goodbye.”
As I stepped across the threshold, my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces
Chapter 17
“SCREW ’IM,” CHLOE SAID, raising her glass of wine so high she was in danger of sloshing alcohol all over me, the bar, and possibly the guy sitting next to her. “Men are assholes.”
“Shh,” I hissed. “Would you keep it down? Adam is not an asshole.” I took a slurping gulp of my wine. It was true. This time, I was the asshole. “If he’d been the one who lied to me, I’d have probably dumped his ass, too.”
“I wasn’t talking about Adam. I was talking about Gavin. Can’t believe that wanker filed already. And he accused you of cheating? The utter gall.”
After spending Sunday evening eating Ben and Jerry’s with Kev until I was comatose, I’d woken Monday morning to Gavin on my doorstep with divorce papers in hand. The only way he could file for divorce before the two-year waiting period was up was if one of us cheated. The fact that he was the one calling me a cheat was a bitter and very ironic pill. I had thought of at least twelve ways to kill him and hide his body before lunch.
“It’s my own fault,” I said. “I should have agreed to a divorce and gone home. None of this would have happened.” I’d have never met Adam. I’d have never felt hope. And I’d have never had my heart smashed to tiny little pieces.
Chloe snorted inelegantly. “Please. Gavin would have found a way to fuck with you regardless of what you did. As for Adam? Can you honestly say you’re not glad to have met him?” She stared at me, her eyes surprisingly shrewd for a person at least three sheets to the wind.
“No.” It came out barely above a whisper.
“See.” She raised her glass again. This time wine did slosh over the edge and splatter on the bar in little crimson droplets.
“Watch it, lady,” the man next to her snarled. He was handsome in a metrosexual way, his dark hair perfectly trimmed and his nails perfectly manicured. I’d bet his suit cost more than my entire month’s pay.
“Oh, shut it,” Chloe snapped. “Asshole. All men are assholes.”
His cheeks grew red with fury. I leaned around her. “Sorry,” I said, “she’s a little drunk.” To Chloe I said, “Come on, girl. Let’s get you home.”
Chloe downed her wine. “Yeah, yeah. He’s still an asshole.”
I managed to get her down to the Tube station, although she leaned on me so heavily, I was pretty sure I was going to wind up with neck strain. I was a bit buzzed myself, the wine working its merry way through my system. Everything was slightly hazy and for a moment, my heart felt a little less battered.
And then, as we stood on the elevator headed down into the belly of the station, I saw a man coming up the other side. My heart stopped beating. Adam. He was standing there with a guy and a girl, chatting away as if nothing was wrong. He didn’t even look at me.
All the pain and agony came crashing back. The tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I tried to choke them back, but it was no use. They flowed down my face, ruining my makeup. For once I didn’t care.
“Hey, hey,” Chloe muttered as we staggered into the Tube. “Don’t cry. Neither one of the bastards is worth it.”
I nodded and gave her a watery smile, but the tears didn’t stop until after I’d finally fallen asleep that night.
THE NEXT MORNING I went at work fuzzy-headed and exhausted. I had a raging headache, my shoes were pinching my feet, and I wanted nothing more than to call in sick. As I turned the corner of the building, I saw a mob in front of the entrance. What on earth was going on?
As I got closer, I saw most of the mob had cameras. Shit. It was the paparazzi. How had they found me? Stupid question. Gavin probably told them. Asshole probably got off on messing with my life.
Someone caught sight of me. “There she is!”
Crap. I turned around and dashed in the direction I’d come, running as fast as I could for the back door. I slapped my security card against the plate and let myself in moments before the mob stumbled to a halt outside, their voices muffled by the thick plate glass.
With a heavy sigh, I took the freight elevator to my floor, which let me out close to my boss’s office. Dammit. I’d hoped to avoid Nancy, but no such luck; she was waiting for me.
“Kate. In my office.” She gave me an arch look before swinging into her office. As usual she was dressed all in black—black pencil skirt, black silk blouse, black heels—her light brown hair done up in a bun so tight it made her eyes squint. Her lips were a narrow slash of red as she stared at me over her enormous glass desk. “Shut the door.”
I did as she said before starting to sit down in one of the visitor chairs.
“Don’t bother,” she snapped, stopping me. “This isn’t going to take long.”
“Okay.” I frowned. My stomach was doing sickening somersaults. “Listen, if it’s about me being late, I’m sorry. I had to avoid the paparazzi.”
“That’s what we need to talk about.”
“I know it’s a hassle, and I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything I can do. I’m sure it’ll blow over in a day or two.” Like Kev said, one of the royals would do something embarrassing, and my little debacle with Adam would be forgotten by the world. I’d be left to lick my wounds in peace.
“I’m sorry, Kate, but we’re going to have to let you go.”
I blinked. “Excuse me? Are you... firing me?”
She gave me a smug look. “It’s unfortunate, of course, but we can’t have your caliber of person working here. It looks bad for us.”
“What on earth are you talking about? It’s not my fault the paps are hounding me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Our firm simply doesn’t want this sort of distasteful publicity.”
“So you’re giving me the sack.”
She shrugged thin shoulders. “We’re allowing you to follow other pursuits.”
I wanted to scream, Bullshit, you cow. But I didn’t. I didn’t say any of the angry things that were rising inside me. “You can’t do this. It’s illegal. I could sue you.” I don’t know where that thought came from, but it spilled out of me. Thank God for the UK’s stringent employment laws.
Her face drew even tighter, if that were possible. “We are prepared to give you a standard two months’ severance package, of course.” Her voice was tighter than her face.
“No. No. What you’re doing is wrong.”
She crossed her arm
s and gave me a smug look. “Sorry, darling, I’ve got all the cards.”
Suddenly something Deb had said niggled at my brain. This time it was my turn to smile. I reached into my purse and pulled out the memory stick. “See this, Nancy? I call this the Nancy Files. On this little stick is three years of records. Everything nasty and underhanded you’ve done. All the problems you’ve caused and blamed me or Deb for. All the times you’ve broken the law or the company rules.” I put an emphasis on that last bit. “How do you think the bigwigs would react if this got leaked?”
Her face turned white. Then red. “Six months, then.” She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, and steepled her fingers, though her hands were shaking a bit. “You know that’s more than generous.”
“Eight months,” I said, “and a glowing recommendation letter, and you’ve got a deal.”
As I signed the required documents, I refused to let her see my tears.
THE PAPS HAD GONE BY the time I made it downstairs to the lobby. Deb was waiting for me, her thin face white as a sheet.
“Oh, my God, Kate. I’m so sorry.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but that would be an idiotic question.”
“I can’t believe they fired me. Well, forced me to quit.”
“Nancy is a bitch. She did it to save her own ass.”
I snorted. “There’s a big surprise.” Her reaction when I’d threatened to leak the Nancy Files had confirmed that.
“Come on.” She took me by the arm and steered me out the door. “Stella from Accounting told me she overheard Nancy talking with the Big Boss.”
I’d never met the Big Boss, not in all my three years with the company. Word was he was one scary man. People rarely spoke of him, and when they did, it was in hushed tones. “He was here?” No wonder Nancy had been in a panic.
She nodded. “He showed up early this morning. Anyway, Stella said he had it out with Nancy. Apparently the Head Office isn’t happy with her performance. He made a few threats about her position with the company, so she blamed you.”
“Oh, I’d like to punch her smug mouth. Not that I would actually do that,” I said quickly at Deb’s startled expression. “But don’t you want to just... grrr.”
“Oh, honey, you have no idea.” She steered me into the pub. I hadn’t even noticed we were going that way. “Two pear ciders,” she said to the bartender, slapping a ten-pound note on the bar. He nodded, grabbed two Kopparbergs from the fridge, and handed them to us, along with a couple glasses.
After taking our seats and pouring our drinks, she toasted me. “To freedom.”
“If you say so. Now what’s this about Nancy blaming me?”
“Well, you know how she keeps forgetting to book travel to important meetings or air mail urgent documents? She told the boss that was all on you, that you were the one who forgot to book her tickets or post her mail or whatever.”
“That bitch.” Although it was exactly what I’d expected.
“Exactly. The boss told her to deal with it.”
“But she offered me two months’ severance.”
Deb nodded eagerly as she took a sip of her cider. “Exactly. Because if you make a fuss about getting fired, the boss will hear about it, and then he’ll know Nancy is the problem, not you. She had to get rid of you.”
I sighed. “Shit. I almost wish I’d asked for more than eight months.”
Deb’s eyes widened. “She gave you eight months’ pay?”
I nodded and shot her a smug smile. “Plus a recommendation. Thanks to the Nancy Files.”
Deb’s eyes grew even wider. “You did it. You really did it! Good for you. You could still fight this, you know. Even with that much pay, this is still completely illegal.”
I shook my head. “No point. It’ll be more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, Gavin filed for divorce. He’s asking the judge to rush it. No doubt I’ll be tossed out of the country before the month is over. Maybe it’s better this way.”
“What about Adam?”
I swallowed. “It’s over. He dumped me.”
“Aw, love, I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head and buried my nose in my glass. I really didn’t want to see the sympathy in her eyes. I might fall to pieces.
I STAGGERED THROUGH the door and dropped my purse and jacket on the table. I sank down into a chair at the table and laid my head on my arms. I felt like crying. My eyes burned with unshed tears. My throat felt thick and lumpy.
“Girl, what is the matter?”
I didn’t even lift my head. “I got fired.”
“Excuse me?” Kev sounded outraged.
“They said I was drawing too much negative attention or something.”
“They can’t do that,” he spluttered.
“Doesn’t matter. They gave me a huge severance package. I’ll be fine money-wise. Besides”—I finally sat up—“this came in the mail today.” I handed him the official-looking envelope with the single sheet of paper inside.
He scanned the paper, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned. “Crap.”
“Exactly.”
The letter was more or less a form letter, but the contents had shattered what was left of my heart. It had been brought to the Home Office’s attention that my “status” had changed, and therefore my visa was being revoked. I had twenty-eight days to voluntarily leave the country, or they’d throw me out.
Kev crumbled the letter, his face red with indignation. “He did this, didn’t he?”
“If by ‘he’ you mean Gavin, then yeah. Probably.”
“The asshole wants to marry that Brazilian bimbo so bad he’s willing to pull this bullshite?” he snarled. “If I could get my hands on that wanker....”
I sighed. “You know very well Gavin thinks about one thing: Gavin. He doesn’t care how this affects me. He wants things his way and he’s willing to trample over anyone that gets in the way.” Right now, that meant me.
“Damn him.”
“Yeah.” I let out another sigh. “I’m going, Kev.”
He blinked, his hazel eyes confused. “Going where?”
“Home.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, and he quickly took the seat next to me. “You are home, Kate. I don’t care which country you were born in, this is your home. You belong here in London.”
I shook my head. “The Home Office doesn’t think so. I’ve got no job, no boyfriend, and I’m getting thrown out of the country. And I’m tired, Kev. Tired of struggling. Tired of hurting.”
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I get it. I do. I just wish you’d reconsider. We can fight this.”
“Can we? Maybe. But it’ll cost time and money. I don’t have either one.”
He closed his eyes as if in pain. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend, Kate.”
I wrapped my arms around him. “I know. You and Chloe are my best friends. I’m going to miss you so much. But I have to go. I can’t stay here anymore.” I smiled weakly. “At least I got fired before I received the Home Office letter.” If I’d seen the letter first, I’d have gone in to give notice. Nancy would have gotten exactly what she wanted, and I wouldn’t have gotten a dime.
“Serves the bitch right.”
TWO WEEKS LATER, I was in the middle of packing up my tiny room. Not that I had much. I’d come to this country with three suitcases. I was leaving it with two carry-ons and two checked bags. Kev had promised to ship anything else later, along with the finalized divorce papers when they arrived. Which, according to the woman at the judge’s office, should be about two weeks after I left the country.
I stared at the World’s Tiniest Bedroom, my heart a shattered mess. Sometimes I wondered how I could go on living. Breathing. It hurt so bad.
The room felt bare and empty without my handbags and necklaces hanging off doorknobs and coat hooks. The wardrobe still listed a little to the left, even empty. I tried to hold back tears, but my throat was swollen shut with the overwhelming need to cry. I’d
been rejected by the man I loved, by my job, and now by the country I’d adopted as my own. I sank down onto the bed, ready for a good long cry.
“Come with me.” Kev appeared suddenly beside me, grabbed my arm, and hauled me off the bed.
“Kev....”
“No time. You have to see this.”
He dragged me out of my room, down the hall, and into the living room. “Look.” He tapped on the window.
I peered down to see a line of girls stretching from the steps of 10b past the front door and out of sight. “What on earth?”
“Exactly. I think it’s time we find out what’s going on in 10b.” He grinned at me. “You game?”
“You bet.” I’d stopped caring about the mystery of 10b, but anything to keep my mind off my troubles.
We were out the door and down the stairs in nothing flat. Rounding the corner, we made our excuses as we shoved our way past the line of girls who moved out of our way, muttering with irritation. Our feet rang on the iron steps as we took them down. Kev rapped on the door of 10b.
The door swung open to an irritated young woman with cat’s eye glasses and a dark ponytail. “It not your turn. Wait.”
“I don’t think so.” Kev pushed his way inside, me on his tail. Shit, we were going to get ourselves arrested. I gave a mental shrug. Whatever. What could they do? They were already throwing me out of the country.
Inside it stank of boiled cabbage and dust. In the dimly lit room, we could just make out an older woman seated in a wheelchair, a laptop on her lap.
“What is the meaning of this?” Her tone was outraged and purely English in accent.
“How about you tell us?” Kev propped his hands on his hips and thrust out his chest.
“Who are you?” the old lady snapped.
“We are concerned citizens. And we’ve had it up to here”—Kev waved a hand above his head—“with your little prostitution ring.”
Her eyes widened. Then she sputtered with laughter. “Is that what you think is going on?”
The Art of Kissing Frogs Page 17