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Skye is so much that Addie will never be. If she could finally see that—know that in her heart—then what Addie does or does not do will no longer be relevant.
“Tell me what happened,” I say.
“She was there as soon as I walked into the building. She turned up her nose at me and said something like, ‘oh, so you’re back again?’ And then I had to ride up to Susanne headquarters in the elevator with her.”
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze her hand.
“That’s not all.” Skye shakes her head. “It was awful, Braden.”
“You want to tell me everything?”
She nods, and she begins.
…
“You’ll make a wonderful discount-cosmetics influencer,” Addie said snidely. “Nice outfit.”
Skye said nothing.
“Cat got your tongue today, Skye? Or has Braden forbidden you to speak?”
Skye said nothing.
But only for a couple of seconds.
She turned to Addie, her temper on fire. “You want to have it out? Take your best shot.”
Addie gazed down at her hand, looking at her perfectly manicured fingernails. “Please. Your immaturity is showing, Skye.”
Skye resisted the urge to whip her hands to her hips. And the urge to bitch-slap her. “My immaturity? I’m not the one sending snide texts and making rude remarks.”
Addie met Skye’s gaze. “Don’t pin this on me. I told you Braden Black was trouble. I told you to stay away from him.”
This time Skye’s hands hit her hips. “Why? Because you want him for yourself?”
“Because I care about you,” Addie said, though her tone negated her words, “or did you forget that conversation we had at the office?”
“Before or after you fired me?”
Addie shook her head. “You’re so young.”
“I’m older than you were when you were involved with him, Addie.” Skye smirked.
Addie opened her mouth but said nothing.
“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat,” Skye said. “You’re obsessed with Braden, and you can’t have him. Now, because I have what you want, you’re trying to break me. Like I said, give it your best shot, Addie, because I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you seem to think.”
“Please.” Addie scoffed. “We both know how you got this job. I can bury you in a minute.”
For the third time, Skye said through clenched teeth, “Give it your best shot.”
Addie huffed. “You’re hardly worth it.”
“If that’s true, why the snide texts and comments?”
Addie huffed again without replying.
“I can’t believe it,” Skye said. “You’re insecure. The great Addison Ames is a scared little girl.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Don’t I? I guess we’ll see.”
The elevator door finally opened on the twenty-seventh floor. Skye walked out ahead of Addie, entered through the transparent doors, and approached the receptionist.
“Hi, Lisa,” Skye said. “Skye Manning for Eugenie.”
“I don’t see you on her schedule.”
“She’s expecting me.”
Eugenie walked out to the reception area. “Skye,” she said, “I tried calling you. I got the signed contract by messenger. You didn’t have to come over today after all.”
“Good,” Skye said, trying to save face. “I just wanted to make sure it arrived.”
“It did. Thank you.” Eugenie looked beyond Skye. “Addie, come on back.”
Addison’s face split into a giant grin as she smirked at Skye and then followed Eugenie.
…
“I was humiliated, Braden,” Skye says. “Totally humiliated.”
“But you saw her for who she truly is.”
“Yeah, that part was pretty cool, but as soon as we got to Susanne, Eugenie brushed me off and welcomed Addie.”
“I suppose that’s my fault,” I say, “for sending the contract over to her.”
Skye sighs. “No. It’s my fault for going in anyway. I should have just called to tell Eugenie the contract was on its way. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“That’s not true.” I trail my finger over her soft cheek. “You know Addie is insecure.”
“What if I’m insecure as well?”
“Why would you be insecure?” I ask. “You know who you are.”
“Do I?” Her voice is shaky, distraught.
I lean over and kiss her lips.
But her words make me ache.
This is difficult for Skye—knowing that her opportunity probably came about because she’s linked to me.
I understand the feeling more than she knows.
“You should know who you are,” I say simply, “because I do.”
Chapter Forty
The rest of the week flies by, and before I know it, Friday is here. I’m having lunch with Ben and my father at the Union Oyster House.
We sit at our table in the back today instead of at the Oyster Bar.
Time for a serious talk.
Once I assure them that the distribution debacle is under control and that the conference with Akers is a go, I turn to my father.
“So…Kathy…”
“You really want to go there, Braden?” Dad says.
“Only because I’m concerned.”
Dad rolls his eyes. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s my business.”
Dad scoffs, perusing his menu. I don’t know why. He always orders the same thing—a bowl of clam chowder and the fried oyster platter.
