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Ch. 47 Alanna
Thesunwasheadingfor the horizon outside the window as Alanna stared at the open suitcase on her bed. Yes, it was time to go. Her mother had shelved her wrist brace last week and proclaimed that her hands were already starting to feel better from the cortisone shots. In other words, Dede was back up and running and able to care for herself.
And for any trouble her mom might face? Layla could always swing by and help. Layla was great at caring for others. It was practically her life’s mission. So, really, Alanna wasn’t needed anymore.
She opened the closet door and grabbed a handful of clothes hanging from the overburdened bar. Laying the clothes on the bed, Alanna began to strip them of their hangers and fold them into neat piles.
Sully’s words, every one of them dripping in acid, whispered in the back of her mind.The woman is incapable of caring for anyone but herself.
Why did those words hurt so much? Why couldn’t she find any anger in her heart to help burn away these painful feelings? All she felt was defeated. Sad. And, for the first time in her life, lonely.
To be fair, Alanna hadn’t exactly acted the part of a saint during the Petunia arbitration, either. It’d been wrong of her to call out Sully’s supposed poverty. It’d also been mean. A low blow.
Alanna released a bitter laugh as she pulled a Rick Owens sheer top from a hanger. How wrong she’d been. And to think, she’d tried to throw pity money at Sully this whole time, when the only one who needed some serious financial help… was her.
Get a grip,she ordered herself. Sully, Petunia, the whole sordid episode was behind her. It was time to look to the future. That future was in Los Angeles, and it was growing brighter by the day. Her Medium article had gone small-time viral, racing through PR circles faster than a case of genital warts through a frat house. Fresh Perspective, her old agency, was hemorrhaging employees. Sabrina the Betrayer had been blowing up Alanna’s phone with texts and even voicemails—truly impressive given that few Gen Zers knew what a dial pad on a phone was for. Alanna had smugly deleted every text and message unopened.
Best of all, her social calendar now included four lunch dates next week with ex-Fresh Perspective clients. Alanna had no doubt she’d snag most, if not all, of them for her new venture. Those contracts would bring in enough money to rent a small office space, re-hire Renee as her executive assistant, and bring on one or two of her favorite project managers. And that was only the beginning.
Alanna envisioned herself as a righteous condor, tearing clients away from the corpse of Fresh Perspective. And this time, no co-owners. No junior partners with voting privileges. There was something to be said for authoritarian rule, at least when it came to one’s own company.
Placing the first pile of folded clothing into the suitcase, Alanna returned to the closet, where her earlier foray had barely made a dent in the fashion offerings. She frowned. How had she managed to buy so much clothing for herself? Did she really need it all? And this small closet held only a fraction of her full wardrobe, nearly bursting from the walk-in closet of her L.A. condo.
She grabbed another pile of clothing and tossed it on the bed, trying to push away the uncomfortable feelings. Somehow, Sully’s minimalistic tendencies had lodged in her psyche.
What does he know?She told herself.He’s just some cat-crazy millionaire who doesn’t have to work anymore and seems uncommonly satisfied with his life.
Excellent burn. Alanna huffed out a breath and forced her mind to switch back to planning for her glorious conquest. The last piece of the puzzle was Thomas. Her lawyer with the dazzling smile needed to find a loophole out of her non-compete clause. He still hadn’t offered any good news on that front, but he would. Alanna had paid the man too much to show up empty-handed.
Yes, it was all coming together like a perfect ensemble… so why did Alanna still feel like shit? And why had her hands stopped folding her clothes?
It couldn’t be the cat. Sure, she and Petunia had enjoyed some good times together, but who had she been kidding? As Sully had so inelegantly explained, Alanna was not a cat person, not an animal person, and barely even a person person. Petunia was better in Sully’s care.
The problem also couldn’t be Sully. After what he’d said—accurate or not—they were over. She didn’t need the distraction of him anyway. But,God, that distraction had been so, so, soooo good. Without meaning to, Alanna licked her lips, remembering their night together, how she’d been begging Sully to unleash her pleasure at the end.
And it wasn’t just the sex. It was the way his smile was just a little lopsided. How he pushed up his glasses with his index finger when he was nervous. The crisp neat handwriting on all those little hints during the world’s most adorable date. Sully gave her great sex to be sure, but he also gave her his whole heart. It was fucking terrifying, but also thrilling.
Alanna turned, and her gaze fell on the peace lily sitting on the shelf of her newly fixed window. The plant’s leaves, far from their sickly yellow, now shone a healthy green. All because of Sully’s tender care and focus. The ribboned bow was still tied around the new pot.
It’s over,Alanna repeated in her head. Even if Sully had awakened something inside of her, made her feel so good… and so vulnerable. Her heart thumped in her chest. Sully had helped her grow. He’d shown her that there was more to happiness than money and power. That some things, in fact, were worth more than money, crazy as that seemed.
Things like living in a quirky small town. Like friends who would sneak out of work to help you find your missing cat. Like family who would build blanket forts so you could share your deepest secrets and fears.
Things like… love.
Oh no.Alanna’s mind screeched to a halt. She pushed that thought—that word—far into the back of her mind. She tied it in a straightjacket, wrapped it in chains, shoved it into an iron coffin, and dropped the coffin into an endless void.
Alanna whirled to her closet. Packing. Yes! She was supposed to be packing. She stepped up to the closet, but as her eyes swept over the beautiful pieces, she hardly recognized them.
A crazy, manic need consumed her.
What really made her happy? Was it all these clothes?
The answer was immediate in her mind: simple, powerful, completely realized.
No.
Without thinking, possibly without breathing, Alanna began tearing through her closet, pulling bundles of skirts, dresses, and tops from their hangers. Onto the bed went her pink Chanel cashmere sweater, her black Hermès trench jacket, the jungle green Prada mini-dress followed by the caramel Burberry blazer she loved wearing over the dress. Next came her Michael Kors leopard print skirt, the Oscar de la Renta tweed ankle pants, and even her killer Stella McCartney blue linen jumpsuit. The shoes were next. Her Valentino pumps joined the growing pile. So did her Louboutin sling wedges, her Jimmy Choos, and her Manolo Blahnik flats. Finally, her fingers pulled at the pile of bags on the top shelf of her closet. It rained Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Versace.
