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Chapter 3
Grace
“Whatisshedoinghere?” I ask as we walk into my office to find Cat sitting in my waiting room dressed in all black like she’s attending a funeral.
My funeral.
She probably wishes she were.
Then again, she’d probably wear red and celebrate.
Cat practically growls at me. “Believe me, I’d rather be anywhere else. I think the appropriate thing for you to say is thank you.”
I roll my eyes and look to the heavens.
God, give me the strength. God, please do not let me take this woman to the bathroom and stick her head in the toilet because that is the only image that is currently running through my head. Cat struggling as I continue to flush over and over again. Then letting her up for a second and staring at her sopping head.
“Let’s go in your office and talk,” Jonathan says, awaking me from my daydream.
Appreciating the power that comes from sitting behind my desk, I walk around and take a seat, motioning for them to do the same.
Marion follows behind them and stands in the doorway, her arms crossed in a warning. She’s my protector. Or she’s making sure I don’t have a nervous breakdown. Either role is welcome.
“Grace, Cat here would like your help finding a husband,” Jonathan says with a slight lift of his lips. I’m not sure if it’s a smile, or a smirk, or something in between.
Cat glares at him as if it is the last thing she wants, and I feel giddy. If this is his way of punishing her, or making me feel better, I’m all for it. I could set her up with the biggest assholes in Boston. I could find men with warts, or toe fungus, or nasty sisters.
Even as my insides get excited at the prospect, I manage to contain my excitement at her demise. “And why would I do that?”
Cat laughs. “Oh, that’s how she’s going to play this. Like she even has a choice.” She turns to me then with a glare. “Because your reputation is in the toilet, and I’m kind enough to help you fix it.”
Jonathan throws daggers in her direction, and I feel the strength come back to my legs. He’s got my back. He’s going tofixthis. I will do whatever this man says because of the way he just glared at my nemesis. He’s here for me and I can do this.
“I watched the interview, Grace,” he says, meeting my eyes.
Momentarily, I shut my eyes, trying to filter through the tape in my brain as he continues. “It was a great idea. Having female clientele. Helping strong, independent businesswomen meet men who appreciate those qualities rather than stifle them. It’s a damn good business plan, and Cat would be the best candidate for your first client.”
It’s like a lightbulb goes off in my head. My idea the day before to begin offering our services to women. The one I pitched to Vanessa, and the only reason I did the damn interview in the first place. Obviously, Vanessa won’t be my first female client, but Cat doesn’t exactly seem like a better option. I spend a tremendous amount of one-on-one time with my clients, and I just don’t know how Cat and I will do that without killing one another.
“Jay, I hear you. And believe me, I appreciate everything that you are doing for me. But it’s no secret that Cat hates me, and I’m not her biggest fan. How are we going to sell anything but that to the press?”
Cat scowls and looks to Jonathan for direction. “For once, I would have to agree with Grace.”
I offer a fake smile.
“Because it’s what you both have to do. Cat is doing this for her family’s business. You are doing this for your own. I’m sure you’ve had to play nice before with people you didn’t like. Do it again and just be happy that you dodged a bullet, and you won’t actually have to be family.”
I know he says those words as a comfort, but they are anything but. My stomach turns as I remember Cash’s coldness the night before. My eyes close as I feel the pang in my chest, the squeezing of my heart, and the stolen breath. This is what a broken heart feels like. There are actual physical ramifications to this kind of sadness.
When I open my eyes, I find Cat’s whiskey-brown ones staring at me. It’s almost as if she can actually see my pain and doesn’t know what to do with it. As if my sadness makes her uncomfortably aware of the true depths of my despair. Her lip moves between her teeth, and she looks away. “I think we can make it work,” she finally says in a soft voice.
Jonathan reaches out and squeezes her hand, and I watch as her demeanor softens even further, and she smiles at him. “That’s my girl.”
He turns to me while still holding on to her hand and my eyes are drawn to their connection.
What is that?What exactly is that?
“Grace, what do you say?”
I tear my eyes away from their embrace and nod. “Fine.”
