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Kendra grinned over the lip of her mug. “That’s cute. So what happened?”
“We had been kinda…I don’t know…seeing each other.” I fiddled with my earlobe, trying not to remember how many times Damian had bitten me there. When I touched that spot, it didn’t elicit any reaction. But when his mouth or teeth went there, watch out, panties. “I’ve been in love with this man since seventh grade. Secretly, of course. But working for him just reignited what I always felt, even though it sounds so…stupid.”
“Not stupid. Sometimes you fall in love early and it never goes away.” She shrugged.
“Well, I wish it would go away,” I muttered. “Damian wasn’t happy with my work, I guess. At least that’s what he told me. He got angry when I forgot an important task, which I understand. But he made it sound like I dicked off on the job constantly. I always keep my sketch pad out for down time; it’s doodling, it’s second nature for me. I guess he took that to be too much of a distraction. I was really trying at that job, Kendra. It was intense, and I gave it my all. But it wasn’t enough.”
Kendra wrapped an arm around me. “That’s all you can do. But answer me one thing. What are you more upset about? Losing the job or losing the guy?”
“The guy.” The answer flew off my lips. “I don’t care about the job even half as much as I care about Damian. And if I’m being honest, getting fired was a small relief. That job sucked up so much of my time, and it’s not what I came here to do. I did my job as well as I could, but it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing.”
She nodded. “I believe you can be doing what you want to be doing. And this might be your doorway.”
Kendra’s optimism was sweet. But it couldn’t penetrate my sadness, which steamed fresh and pungent inside me.
The truth was, the doorway to the future didn’t matter right now, because I was too stuck in my failure.
I’d lost both the guyandthe job and let down everyone who had ever relied on me.
I’d never felt so worthless. And that voice inside me urging me to just pack it in and crawl back to Kentucky was screaming louder than ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DAMIAN
Normal.
Things were back to normal.
I settled back into the routine I’d once preferred and accustomed myself to the empty desk outside my office. The mere sight of it made me think of Jessa, though, so I had it removed on Thursday.
Out of sight, out of mind.
If that were even remotely true, I would have had a fighting chance at returning to my regular modus operandi. But I didn’t need to see things that reminded me of Jessa to think about her. She just existed in the back of my head all the time, every day. Practically anything I tried to focus on led to more thoughts of Jessa.
All I could do was hope they would diminish over time. Even if it took decades.
Maybe by the time I reached old age, dementia would finally banish Jessa from my mind.
What a future to look forward to.
But this was the only path to stability that I knew. Returning to the status quo. Overworking and whiskey until my focus returned and my mind shut off.
Yep. The future of your dreams.
It seemed so much more unsavory now that Jessa was gone. I was shriveling—colorless, a boring husk, depleted—without her warmth, her joy, or her appreciation for shrimp cocktail.
Trace came back to the penthouse on Friday morning, tanned beyond belief and looking too relaxed in a loose tee and linen pants. I caught him as he rolled his bags into the penthouse. He took his sunglasses off, jerking his chin into a nod.
“Welcome back,” I told him.
“I’d say it’s good to be back, but”—Trace folded his sunglasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt—“that would be a lie.”
“Yeah. I take it you read the article?”
Trace nodded, his dark gaze stuck on the floor. “I don’t know who the fuck could have leaked that. Unless it was Ian himself.”
“There’s no way,” I said. “Ian knows about the secret family, but there was too much in that article that Ian had no way of knowing.”
