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“I didn’t know that.”
“See, she’s humble, too. We need some of that around here.”
“If you had told me—”
“Then you wouldn’t have fucked it up?”
“Maybe,” I mutter
“This isn’t on you,” Deacon says. “She went back to take over Redmond Enterprises. We lost her, Gaige.”
I lost so much more.
“I’ll have Wren make arrangements for you to get back home. We have shit piling up here. I know you don’t like to travel much.”
“Thanks, man,” I tell him, and the call ends.
Was she already gone before I came back upstairs last night? Did I not try hard enough? Did I push too hard?
Jesus, this love shit is stupid. So fucking stupid. I should call Wren and tell him to get me a flight out of Atlanta to New York, but that won’t work. She had a chance to at least say goodbye. I’ve texted her this morning. Of course, I didn’t know she was gone, but she hasn’t responded. She didn’t CC me on the email last night. She purposely left me in the dark so she could make her escape. She wanted to put distance between us before I found out.
It speaks volumes. I pack, growing angrier and angrier at myself, at her, at everything, and everyone.
Things were perfect before her. My life was just damn fine before she came in and wrenched open the protective barriers around my heart. I didn’t want or need these emotions. I just wanted fun and powerful orgasms, and somehow, she managed to just slip right in with her pretty smiles and that amazing laugh. She’s like carbon monoxide, silent and deadly.
I get a text alert from Wren, letting me know I have an hour and a half to get to the airport. It’s like he’s punishing me for Leighton going back to New York. Atlanta traffic is horrific on a good day.
I took his advice last night when I asked about certain companies to use locally for what I needed. I took Lala’s advice with the grand gesture bullshit. Hell, I was going to take Tyler’s advice on the orgasms if she came to me.
I had open ears, and all of it backfired in my damn face.
Chapter 34
Leighton
The familiar thick air of New York doesn’t bring any form of relief. If anything, it suffocates me even further. I send Mom a text, letting her know I’m back in town, meeting the ridiculous deadline she set. I go home only long enough to shower and change. If I crawl into bed to sleep, I may never leave again.
I head to the Redmond Enterprises offices through muscle memory alone because exhaustion drags me down. I’m spent, both emotionally and physically, but I’m determined. If my mother thinks I can handle rebuilding the company, then I’m going to give it my best shot.
At least that’s the pep talk I’ve been giving myself for the last eight hours since I got off the phone with Chelsea.
It’s not unusual to step off the elevator onto the Redmond Enterprises floor to complete silence. I would get to work fairly early most days. I pride myself in creating a happy environment for our employees and sometimes it’s the little things that bring people the greatest comforts. One of those was always having coffee waiting when they arrived.
Today is different. I’m not walking into a freshly cleaned office smelling like lemons from the overnight crew. The offices are a mess, the bullpen in complete disarray from the rush of people leaving. Chairs are several feet from their respective desks, paperwork litters the floor—client confidentiality be damned—one computer keyboard hangs abandoned from its cord. This, I imagine, is what the place would look like during the apocalypse. My stomach turns into a knot.
The people who worked here were loyal. They worked hard, and we treated them fairly. My dad prided himself on taking care of his employees, citing that it helped with retention. Looking back, maybe it was guilt over what he was doing to destroy his own family that made him be so nice to others.
I avoid an overturned trash can, ignore the open door to my former office and walk into my father’s. I don’t bother turning on the light. The sun coming up over the horizon is enough for me right now. I don’t know that I could stomach the sight of the place in full color right now. I crash in his office chair and take a moment for myself. With elbows on his—my—desk, I rest my forehead on my hands. I haven’t even gotten started, and already I’m overwhelmed.
I know the people I worked with liked me, but there’s no way I could convince them to come back, not when Estelle Redmond controls the company. They’d never take the chance that she’ll have another mood swing and pull the rug out from under them again. Some of the employees have been working here for decades. Melinda in HR was Dad’s first hire and has been around as long as the company has been around.
