Page 89 of At His Beck & Call

“I’ll be seeing you,” he says, in a surly tone, but I just shake my head.

“No. You won’t. You’ll be seeing Henry. And that’s it.”

He scoffs, walking away, looking small and unimpressive. I watch him for several seconds and then glance back at the car, laughing to myself as I see Bethany doing a little dance in my honor in the front seat. Henry waves at his dad, but James barely even acknowledges him.Fucking asshole.

I head quickly up to my apartment, grabbing my things and looking around at how awful it is. I wish I had a cleaner, tidier place for Henry to recover in.

One day at a time, Lissa.

I grab a few things, unsure which clothes to pack or why I’m even going on this stupid date, and get back down to the car in record time.

Bethany is beaming.

“What did you say to him?” she whispers. “You’re such a fucking badass.”

I glance back at Henry, whose headphones are still over his ears, and let out a little sharp bark of laughter.

“I don’t even know, it’s kind of a blur, but I told him not to come back here without my express permission.”

“Fuck yeah. You da bitch,” Bethany says in a ridiculous accent that makes me laugh even more as we head toward her apartment. I’m buzzing with adrenaline, feeling proud of myself, and stronger than I have in a long time.

Bethany’s gorgeous apartment is always immaculate, but tonight, instead of the clean lines and clear surfaces I’m used to, there’s a dinosaur blanket and a picnic set up in front of the TV.

“I told you I’ve been preparing for this for ages,” she says triumphantly. “This is me and Hen time,” she says as Henry walks over to the dinosaur blanket and immediately sits down, the purple monster in his hand and a huge grin on his sweet face. Bethany hands him a juice box and puts on the TV, ruffling his hair.

“I love you, little man, you know that, right?” Henry nods. “And who loves you more than me?” she asks.

“Mom!” he shouts excitedly, making me smile.

“You got it!” Bethany cheers as she comes over to me. “You want help with your makeup, babe?”

“I won’t wear much.”

“Let me help you anyway. You know how much I love it.” She goes to her room and comes back with a gold bag that’s filled with Dior makeup and is probably worth more than my monthly rent.

“So, why are you so worried about tonight, anyway?” she asks. “I know you want to be here for Hen, but he’ll be fine. I thought you were excited about Noah.”

“I was. To begin with. It was nice to be asked out, but I don’t think I’m really into him now.”

Bethany pulls back, assessing the foundation she’s dabbed across my face. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” I say, attempting to sound casual, but she stares at me for so long I have to look back at her, and her expression is one of worry.

“This isn’t about Oliver, is it?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Liss.”

“It’s not!”

“Because that’s rule one, babe. This isn’t like the movies. Don’t get your heart broken by a man who sees you as the hired help. This is what I was afraid of—you’re too sweet for this job.”

“I know Oliver isn’t interested in me.”

“Do you?”

“Yes! I’m not an idiot,” I say, anger rising, and Bethany looks at me quizzically for a moment.