Page 299 of Manhattan Bossholes

I was off my game, Dominic replied. Don’t get too excited.

Aiden replied with a giant question mark. What are you saying?

That we obviously let you win.

Aiden responded with a GIF that said KISS MY ASS. #sorelosers

Trent, you gonna let him talk to us that way? Dominic replied.

Sorry. Too busy. The last thing I wanted to do was play goddamn squash with my friends. They’d totally know that something was wrong and try to talk to me about it. And I did not feel like talking this out.

Busy doing what? Aiden asked.

Probably spending quality time with Natasha, Vincent cut in. You know…going home to do those not-safe-for-work things.

I’ve done plenty of not-safe-for-work things at work, Aiden said. He followed it up with a smirking emoji.

I do NOT need to think about you getting action in the office, Dominic messaged.

Keep it G-rated, Vincent said. Or you’ll scar Paul’s delicate sensibilities.

Shut the hell up! I’ve been married longer than all of you, Paul responded.

Technically I was married the longest, Dominic said.

You’re divorced now, Paul said. It doesn’t count. You’ve been reset.

Ouch.

Trent? Aiden wrote.

I grimaced down at the messages, knowing the guys would get suspicious if I stayed too quiet but not feeling up to faking the usual banter. I just wanted to be left alone. I started typing, then stopped. I didn’t even know what to say at this point. The image of Natasha storming out of her office was still fresh in my mind, but so was that wretched feeling of betrayal.

She’d helped my mom very nearly take everything away from me. If I hadn’t earned the board members’ trust by pulling the company out of the gutter after their divorce, they may have been swayed by the garbage she’d spewed. It wasn’t just the thought of losing the job itself that had me on edge—God only knew what effect it would have on Nana Dee if she heard I’d been kicked out of the company. That kind of shock was the last thing she needed.

Hey, everything okay? Aiden messaged me directly.

I sent a thumbs-up in reply, stuffing my phone away in my pocket. If I was honest with them about what happened today, the guys would insist I still come out—if not to play squash then to have dinner or just to go over to one of their places and talk it all out. But I didn’t want to talk things out, and I definitely didn’t want to see Paul, Vincent, or Aiden’s happy relationships right after mine had so spectacularly crashed and burned.

What I wanted was to burn today from my mind. But I only knew one sure-fire way to do that.

O’Malley’s was a small, run-down Irish pub I’d been frequenting in the Village for years. It was a dark, grimy space with forever-sticky tables and stained floors, filled with the kinds of people who weren’t interested in conversation. And that suited me just fine. I only ever spent time here when I really wanted to get away from the world, to step outside my life, and have a good think. Usually that was after an uncomfortable run-in with my parents. Though I’d also spent a night here after breaking up with Katie, my girlfriend post-college, and again when I’d first heard about Nana Dee’s diagnosis.

No one here judged you for how many times you asked the bartender to fill up your glass. In fact, most people in here seemed to be chasing the bottom of a bottle for one reason or another.

I lifted my hand, signaling the bartender—an older man who operated under the guideline “It’s none of my business”—from the tiny corner table I’d hidden myself away at, making it clear I was ready for my next round. He nodded once and brought me over another glass filled with amber liquid, taking the empty one that sat on the edge of the table. “Keep them coming,” I said.

My thoughts weren’t burning away fast enough. I wanted to be the kind of drunk where I couldn’t remember my own name, never mind that Natasha had cut me open, spilling my guts all over that boardroom. I wanted to black out this entire day. I gulped at my whiskey, taking down half the glass in one go. It set my throat and my chest on fire, but it didn’t do a damn thing to make me forget Natasha.

I was probably setting myself up for a horrible hangover, and I’d likely regret this in the morning, but I regretted a lot of things right now. Falling for Natasha Dryer most of all. I stared into the bottom of my glass. Every part of me wished I’d never walked into that coffee shop the day we met. Or better yet, that I’d never reached out to her account on 1stDibs. The universe had a wicked sense of humor, and here it was again, rolling with laughter as another one of my relationships self-destructed. I’d run the course of my usefulness with Natasha, and she’d sold me off to the highest bidder.

My thoughts started to feel fuzzy on the outskirts. When a shadow eclipsed me, I glanced up, expecting to see the bartender with my next drink.

It wasn’t him.

I blinked in surprise, but it was only a second before my shock gave way to irritation. “How did you find me?” I growled.

Aiden, Vincent, Paul, and Dominic crowded around the table.