“I guess, I thought we’d have a conversation, and she’d yell, but we’d figure out a timeline. I started thinking I could say Bodan and I broke up before the funeral, and I only went for emotional support. That we were already done but didn’t want to say anything because of the emotional weight of the day. It would’ve given us an extra day to work with. I was spinning all these lies in my head—for her. I was getting dizzy, but I was going to do it to protect her…and then she kept asking me about you.”
“What about me?”
“She doesn’t believe we just got together this summer. Basically, she thinks I’m the one lying, and when I realized she won’t believe me, I told her the truth—because I don’t care anymore. I told her I’m glad the photo is out there, because it’s the only honest thing right now. I’m done with the Bodan arrangement. I’m not going anywhere with him anymore. I refuse to make a statement about it, because it’s not my mess. It’s hers. I told her from now on, I only want to be seen next to you, because we’re together.”
My pride swells at the courage in that sentence. “And?”
“And she said your career is a liability.”
“Of course she did.”
“She told me”—her voice tightens as I hear her car start—“these were her exact words: ‘Effective immediately, you’re no longer needed on my staff.’”
That hits like a clean check to the boards. “She fired you?”
“I guess, but honestly, it’s probably better this way. I’ve needed to quit for a long time but couldn’t find the courage. She had this hold on me I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried. I guess it’s better she cut me out.”
My heart hammers against my chest as I shake my head. “That’s not better. You know she did you dirty. She used you to clean up her PR mess. When it backfired, she handed you all the damage.”
“I know.” Her voice cracks. “The worst part is, when the conversation was over, she slid an HR folder across her desk. It already had my name on it, which means she put it all together before I even got there. So, essentially, nothing I said—or could have said—mattered. She had already decided I would take the fall before I even walked in. I’m invisible to her.”
“Oh, Lottie.” I drag my hand down my face. “You’re not invisible. Not to me. You’re seriously the only woman I’ve even seen. I’m so sorry she said that to you.”
“So, with nothing else to do, I cleaned out my desk.” After a deep sigh, she goes on, “My mom took my keys and get this—she insisted security walk me out. She literally called Ham.”
Heat surges through me. “That’s—”
“It’s okay,” she cuts off my fury. “I didn’t even cry. Now you know why I can’t cry. It’s almost like a curtain was ripped all the way open, and I needed to see everything behind it to understand that this is the best thing to happen to me. She’s never going to change. I finally saw that if I want to be the best version of myself—and actually live my life—I need to step away from her. She did me a favor.”
My arms ache to hold her, to pull her in the biggest, most protective hug. I hate I didn’t at least meet her outside the office. I didn’t know she’d be fired though. I press my hand to my forehead and steady myself. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“I know. And that’s the problem. I’m finally seeing what I do and don’t deserve, and I can’t unsee it. As much as I’m irate about how she treated me, I’m mostly relieved. It’s weird,” she continues, “I’m relieved and angry—and I didn’t think I could feel all of this at once—but I’m also disappointed. I’ve been waiting for a reason to leave. I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
“You’re allowed to hurt,” I say. “You offered your mom so much love and support, but it wasn’t reciprocated.”
She goes stone quiet. I cringe, picturing her fighting tears. “Lottie,” I say after a long beat of silence. “Can I meet you somewhere?”
“No.” Her reply is quick, and then, almost shyly, she says, “Not right now. I don’t have time. I need to get to the house to grab some of my things out of my room. I’m going to stay in one of the guest cabins until I figure something out. I can’t risk seeing her right now.”
“If I help you move your stuff, it will go faster.”
“That’s okay. To be honest, I need an hour or two alone right now, and I know you have work stuff you are more than likely late to.”
“Well, if you insist.” I glance at the clock on my phone, knowing the hours will slip by whether I want them to or not. “I’m ready to start practice,” I say, then pause, choosing my next words carefully. I don’t want her to have any doubts about how I feel. “I want you there tonight.”
“Tonight? After this…” She hesitates, then adds, “I don’t want to take attention away from the game. If I show up now, who knows what my mom will do. She can’t handle things when they aren’t all about her. I don’t know if it’s a good idea…”
“I do,” I say gently. “It’s the perfect idea. It shows your mom, and the world, that you didn’t lose.”
“You really want my drama during the most important night of your career?”
I smile, even though she can’t see it. “I always want your drama, and if Crunch hasn’t completely eaten it by now, can you wear my jersey?”
“I already am,” she replies. “I wore it to the office to make my point clear.”
That lands somewhere deep in me. I’ve never had any doubts about Lottie. I love how we’re already coming together as our own little team. It’s more than I ever imagined. I hate to bring her mom back into it, but I have to ask, “What did your mom do when she saw that?”
“Nothing really. She scanned my outfit, muttered something about decorum in a federal building, and then launched into a speech about how the photo was embarrassing.”
