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Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I fumble with my phone, and call the only person I can, the only person I have. Dean.
He picks up quickly. “Hey, Nina. How’s it going?”
I tell myself to hold it together and stick to the facts. Don’t get him all worried.
But as soon as I hear his voice, I break down all over again.
“You were right,” I sob. “You were right about everything. I should never have brushed you off, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
“Whoa, slow down,” he says. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“It was Br—” I start, but I just can’t bring myself to tell him the story. Every time I even think Brock’s name, that image of him kissing Rosa comes back into my mind, overwhelming me with grief.
Dean takes a deep breath, then falls silent for a few moments. In the background, I hear indistinct voices, electronic beeps, and paper rustling. He’s probably at work.
“Where are you right now?” he asks, his voice taut with anger. I hear footsteps, then silence. Dean must’ve stepped into somewhere private, probably his own office.
“In a cab,” I answer between silent sobs.
I hear him typing away on a keyboard in the background, keys clicking away.
“Ask the driver to take you to the airport,” Dean says firmly. “I’ve booked you a flight to Seattle, leaving in a couple hours. You can come stay here with me for a while. I’d come there, but I can’t get the time off work.”
“No, Dean, you don’t need to do that,” I say, wiping away tears. “I’ll be fine, I just need a bit of time to -”
“No,” he cuts me off. “I already booked the ticket. Check your email inbox.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll come.”
He’s probably right. It’ll do me good to get away from here and spend some time with him. It’ll help me get my head together to process this entire shitshow.
All I know is, I can’t face Brock yet, and I don’t have the energy to deal with Peter’s harassment right now.
Peter wouldn’t just lay off once I did as he asked. Him showing me . . . that . . . is just going to make things worse. He’ll feel vindicated, knowing that he was right all along.
Brock might be a cheating asshole, but that doesn’t change the fact that Peter is an emotional leech I want gone from my life, for good.
A few days away to clear my head and recharge my batteries would be perfect. After that, I can come back and get everything resolved.
“Take me to the airport, please,” I tell the driver. I can’t stand to be here anymore. Every street, every building in this downtown area reminds me of Brock, making me feel suffocated. “As fast as you can.”
“You got it.” He steps on the gas.
Brock
Brock
“Mr. Evans. Let me introduce you to my colleagues. Aaron Smith and Matthew Williams,” says Mark Casey, the CEO of Casey Technologies.
They look at me with expectation in their eyes. I shake their hands in a rush, exasperated already by the slow tempo of Mark Casey’s speech.
“I’m so sorry, gentlemen. I’ve got an emergency on my hands, and we’ll have to reschedule,” I say, glancing out the hotel entrance.
Mark Casey is talking, but I don’t even care what he’s saying.
I can’t see Nina from where I’m standing, but if I run outside now, I may be able to catch up with her and explain everything. It’s not too late. I can fix this.
“. . . unacceptable. My schedule is completely packed, and Aaron here flew all the way from the New York office for this meeting—”
“I’m sorry. I really have to go,” I say, cutting off Mark Casey and stepping away from the men.
“Mr. Evans!” one of the men shouts, but I’m already making my way out the door.
I’ll deal with them later. They need this deal as much as we do. They’ll reschedule if they really want to make this happen.
Besides, even if I went ahead with the meeting, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. My brain is screaming out Nina’s name over and over again, overriding everything else.
She’s all that matters right now. I can’t have her thinking I’m cheating on her. I’ve been cheated on before, and I know it hurts like a motherfucker. The last thing I want to do is hurt Nina.
Every cell in my body is telling me to run to her, to pull her into my arms and tell her I love her, wipe away her tears and beg her not to cry.
Fuck. I made Nina cry.
“Wow.” Rosa’s voice. I forgot about her.
God, I hate her. I hate her so fucking much.
I use my anger as fuel, running out down the hotel driveway and toward the main street.
Rosa’s designer heels click against the asphalt, her voice shrill between gasps as she runs to keep up with me. “I can’t believe you just walked away like that from a meeting. They were big shots, Brock. Daddy introduced them at a party one night. And that Mark Casey is so hot.”
