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I didn’t know the answer to her question, so I didn’t give one. Part of me hated Michael more than I’d ever hated anyone. Another part of me wanted to fall into his arms and let him heal me. I didn’t know which part of me would win.
“I don’t want to think about it tonight,” I said. “I just want to get through this.”
Andrea nodded. We kept talking through the night. We ordered pizza and sipped wine until the sun rose outside.
CHAPTER 24
MICHAEL
Weekends were off limits. Marcy knew not to call me anytime on Saturday or Sunday unless the sky was falling. So, when I woke up Saturday morning to three missed calls from my secretary, I knew something was horribly wrong.
“Marcy,” I said when she answered my call. “What is it?”
“You need to get to the office,” Marcy said. “The Richardsons are here.”
The name fell like a weight on my ears. The Richardsons were some of my biggest clients. We’d worked together for years.
“What’s going on?” I asked. I pushed myself out of bed and hurried into my bathroom.
“They’re angry,” Marcy said quietly. “Something about this latest round of tools.”
“I’m on my way,” I said.
I hung up and jumped in the shower. Five minutes later, I was dressed and in my car. I sped through town, not bothering to slow down until I pulled into the office parking lot. Marcy’s car was already in her usual spot, and two other, unfamiliar vehicles were parked on either side of her.
I groaned and shoved open my car door. This was the last thing I needed today. I barely slept the night before. Instead, I tossed and turned for hours. I tried everything to get Julie out of my head, but the hurt look on her face was forever burned into my memory. Even in the morning light, I couldn’t shake the memory free from my mind.
“Mr. Smart,” Marcy said when I walked through the door. She visibly relaxed when she saw me. “They’re in the conference room waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Marcy.”
I squeezed her shoulder as I hurried past. Outside the conference room, I paused with my hand on the doorknob. Whatever was going on in my personal life, I had to push that aside. This business, my business, was too important to let it fall apart.
With a deep breath, I turned the knob and slowly stepped inside. I smiled at the Richardsons and quickly closed the door behind me.
“About time you showed up,” Jim Richardson said. “Where the hell have you been, Smart?”
“Well, it is Saturday morning,” I said.
“I’m not fucking around right now,” Jim said. “Not today, Michael.”
“Just slow down for a second,” I said. I walked over to sit down while Jim glared at me. His two sons, Trey and Turner, kept their eyes locked on their father. The tension in the room was already unbearable, and we hadn’t even begun talking yet.
“I don’t want to slow down,” Jim said. “I want you to fix your mistake.”
“What mistake is that?” I asked patiently.
I leaned back and intertwined my fingers over my chest. This was the position I always took in important meetings. It allowed me to appear relaxed and calm, while still remaining strong and confident.
“You don’t even know?” Trey demanded. “What the hell is going on around here, Michael?”
“We’ve been sending complaints to your office for over a week,” Turner said. He was calmer than either his father or his brother and, still, his anger was evident.
“I’ve received a few emails,” I said with a nod. “And I responded.”
“Not good enough,” Jim said. “We asked for a whole new set of tools four days ago, and still, we’ve gotten nothing.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way,” I said. “I have to send a technician out to examine the tools before they can be replaced.”
