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“Don’t.”
No, I need to fix this. I have a better option and I should’ve thought of it first. The panic tightening my chest eases. “Okay, move in with me. I can support you until you find another job. Or however long you’d like. You can work on Wild Things.”
I reach my hand toward her, letting it fall to the bed when she doesn’t take it.
Mina gets to her feet, and after a moment, she steps up to the bed, bending to give me a quick peck on the cheek. “Get some rest, Timothy. I’ll be fine.”
I’m too tired to fight her right now, butfineisn’t good enough. I need her to thrive. I need her to be happy.
Chapter ten
Mina
Whereisallthisshit with Timothy coming from? It has to be the near-death experience and all the drugs he’s on. I expected him to forget about yesterday’s proposal, or at least to laugh about it.Isn’t that funny? What if you’d said yes?
He has a ring. A big-ass beautiful diamond ring he bought for me years ago—
“Mina Andrei?”
I look up from my seat in the empty waiting room, where I’ve spent the last two hours on the hospital’s free Wi-Fi, trying to search for a job. Trying, because the cracked screen on my phone makes it as frustrating as that conversation with Timothy.
A courier locks eyes with me, and the next thing I know, I’m holding a small box.
Goddammit, Timothy. Now what?
Well, I might as well take a break. Not like I can concentrate anyway. At least this won’t be an engagement ring. Could be chocolate.
My stomach grumbles. I wouldn’t mind if it’s chocolate. Timothy knows all my favorite snacks, and from time to time surprises me with them.
It’s not a snack. It’s a new phone. An expensive one. With a little note that says sorry.
For a long moment, I stare at the shiny, perfect screen, sliding my thumb along the smooth edge. I should return it. Except it’s his fault my screen cracked in the first place.
I lost my job. My roommate is moving out so making rent is going to be difficult. I can’t rely on my side hustle yet. There’s no way I can afford a new phone right now.
Okay, I’m keeping it. But I’m not going to rush into his room and thank him just yet.
I need some fresh air, but as I rise, Celia drops into the chair across from me, saying hello and quickly introducing me to Timothy’s dad, William. He’s a tall, lanky man with a quiet, professorial demeanor. The exact opposite of Timothy, except for the kind eyes with laugh lines.
“Timothy told us you lost your job.” Celia cuts to the chase, leaning forward in her chair. “I’m terribly sorry.”
Shit. What else has he told her—does she know he asked me to marry him? How embarrassing. For me. Timothy exists on some plane where embarrassment isn’t a thing. “I’ll find another one.”
Celia glances at William and turns her TV-ready smile on me. “I’d like to hire you.”
Why am I friends with Timothy? I told him I’d find a job myself and I meant it. “No thanks, Mrs. Foley. I can’t cook.”
She laughs. “Not to work with me. To…god, there is no good way to say this. William?”
He looks like he wants nothing to do with this conversation, but he leans forward, elbows on his knees, and does what he’s told. “We’d like to hire you to provide a little home help for Timothy until he’s fully recovered.”
Hell. No. “I’d murder him.”
Celia nudges William. “She’s perfect.”
Timothy must get his inability to listen to anything he doesn’t want to hear from his mother. “I’m not going to cook and clean for him, and I think he’d rather I didn’t.” If he knew what was good for him.
Celia draws herself up straighter. “My son knows how to cook and clean for himself.”
