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My ex-boyfriend is engaged. My apartment burned down. My best friend is having a hard time. Everything seems to be conspired against me, like I’m slowly spiraling out of control, getting closer and closer to the ground.
Ready to break into pieces.
My phone rings. I jump slightly, expecting Gareth.
But instead, it’s my mother.
I answer, a strange sense of hope blossoming in my chest. “Hey, Mom.”
“Sweetie.” She sounds distant and there’s noise in the background. “Honey, listen, I can’t talk but I needed to call before we take off.”
“Take off?” I narrow my eyes. “You’re not checking in about the fire?”
“What? Fire? No, honey, your father and I have some important news. We’re leaving for Paris in five minutes with a couple we’ve been seeing lately. We decided we’re entering into a relationship with them, a real four-way relationship. I’m in love, honey. Your father’s in love too.”
My jaw works. I blink rapidly, trying to assimilate this new information. “You called to tell me you’re in some weird four-way relationship with another married couple? And you’re flying to Paris?”
“To celebrate!” she yells over more noise, which I now realize is an airport. “We’re in a quadrople! A quad couple! We’re working on the name, but honey, Michael has a private plane. Really, it’s all amazing. I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be gone for two weeks, so if you need anything, wait until we’re back!”
“Mom, my apartment burned down. I have no money. I have nowhere to sleep. All my stuff is gone. I don’t know—”
“Shit, sweetie, I’m so sorry! I meant to Venmo you that fifty. I’ll do it right now before we leave. Love you so much!”
The phone goes dead.
Then vibrates a second later. A notification from Venmo.
Twenty-five dollars from Mom with a big-heart-eyes emoji.
What the actual fuck is happening to me? I throw the phone on the floor and curl up in the bed.
My parents are in a quadrople. They’re flying to Paris, on a private plane, and my mom couldn’t even send me fifty bucks like she promised. Meanwhile, I’m in a room I can’t afford, my apartment is a blackened, charred wreck, and I don’t know where I’m going to sleep tomorrow.
There’s a loud knock at the door. I shoot up, leaping to my feet.
Champagne. French fries.
I’m such a mess, but at least there’s champagne. At least there are fries. I’m already mentally ordering a second bottle as I yank open the door—
To find one of the Crowley brothers from back in Boston standing on the threshold.
“Hello, Mrs. Kane,” he says, his face strangely deadpan. “My name is Liam Crowley. I was wondering if we could have a conversation.”
Chapter8
Fiona
Liam Crowley.
The one that pulled the gun on me for the crime of interrupting a meeting.
I’ll never forget that cold, dead stare. He brushes past me before I can say yes or no. I stand there in shock, not sure what to do, fear ringing down my spine. My mother’s forgotten, Cait’s forgotten. All I can think of is the offer Gareth made me, and suddenly I wish I had accepted.
“What can I do for you, uh, Mr. Crowley?” I squeak, feeling very small.
“Liam,” he says, pausing in the little sitting room attached to the bedroom. “I had such a nice meeting with your husband that I thought I’d fly down here and give him the good news myself. We’re thinking about hiring him on as our full-time attorney.”
“That’s… fantastic.” I let the door shut. Although I want to keep it open. That way, someone might hear me scream while Liam murders me. I plaster a smile on my face and clasp my hands in front of my lap. “He’s very good at his job, isn’t he?”
