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“Take it any way you want it,” he says. “Have a good evening.”
I retrieve the key to the front door from inside my bra and let myself in. It’s been like riding waves. High waves are fun and exciting. But rough surf is chaotic and zero fun. That’s what my life is like right now. Rough surf. Zero fun.
After locking up, I climb the stairs to my room – possibly for the last time. With each step, the realization that my fight hascome to an end sinks in. I have no more good ideas. I have no more fight left in me. It’s time to cut my losses and regroup somewhere else.
The door in the middle of the hallway is the bathroom. It is a throwback from the 1930s with a black and white penny tile floor and a large white clawfoot tub. I lock the bathroom door and shed my clothes. I draw a bath, climb in, and cry about the situation I am in.
I cry all over again for my Uncle John. And my mom and my dad. In between tears, I tend to myself. I sink beneath the climbing water level and soak my hair before I shampoo it with lavender and chia seed gel.
Then, to be thorough, I shave under my arms and do my legs. I rub my skin all over with coconut solids as a moisturizer. I dry my hair with a sheet towel, then wrap my body in it and head into my room. You’d think I was getting ready for a date, but you’d be wrong.
When I got out of the bathroom, what I thought was the noise of the tub draining was someone knocking on the door. I bound down the stairs, still wrapped in my towel, clearly not dressed to answer the door, but I didn’t care in my state of sorrow.
“Who is it?” I growl.
“It’s Jack,” he answers.
“You should have called,” I say. “I am not answering.”
“I couldn’t call,” he says. “Open up.”
I yank open the front door, dressed only in a gown fashioned out of the bath linen. Jack is there, filling the doorway. He is holding my cell phone in his hand. Oops.
“You left this in the limo,” he says, pushing his way in.
Chapter 7
Jack
Iwedge my foot in the door to keep Brynne from closing it on me.
“Don’t you dare keep me out of my property,” I scold.
“Give me my phone,” she says and snatches it away.
My eyes narrowed as it dawned on me what Brynne was wearing.
“Is that a towel?” I ask, instantly disturbed.
She’s naked underneath that fabric. Is she always in some state of being barely dressed, I wonder?
“Why aren’t you leaving?” she snips. “If you are waiting for a thank you, take a hike.”
“You told the world you are my fiancé,” I say. “I killed way more time today than I planned, convincing my lawyer and my investor that I am not sleeping with you, let alone engaged.”
“I heard all of this from Nick,” she says. “He made it loud and clear. I should not have stuck my nose in a situation where you didn’t have thecajónesto fix yourself.”
“Are you questioning my manhood because I have a nutjob lady who is making my life hell, and I don’t just clobber her?” I ask.
“If it had been me and someone was bothering me, I would blast them in public and put them in their place,” she says.
“I am talking about you,” I glower.
Brynne’s beautiful mouth fell open as clouds gathered on her face. She looks like she’s about to cry, piercing my anger. I regret my tone instantly.
“Hey,” I say, keeping up with her as she hurries away. “I am sorry about that.” Even with her back to me, I know that she is sobbing. I touch her shoulder, and she shrugs me away.
“You can’t punch on purpose and then say, oops, I’m sorry. You don’t get a do-over. Please leave.”
