If miracles happen and he does want me for, say, a year or more, something he’s been hinting at, I will be worse off than I am now. At least now he’s still not married. Very soon though he’ll have a wife, a good woman who deserves more than this, and I will be that woman, the one nobody likes, the one who’s left a broken wreck, waiting for a man she can never own.
But see, as much as I know this is true, giving him up is not possible. Not as long as I have this useless hope clawing at me. It’s idiotic, but I keep imagining that soon he’ll realize he loves me and he’ll break off his engagement to be with me.
This is how far I have fallen from the self-respecting woman I was. I am now wishing misery on another woman so that I can have what I want.
“Hannah?” he barks impatiently, and I focus on him, shaking my miserable doubts back to the back of my mind, where they’ve been for days.
“No. You can go to that dinner with your fiancée like a decent man,” I snarl, throwing his messages at him. “I may be a goddamned whore, but I’m not a total glutton.”
I storm out and grab my bag, hightailing it out of the office before Mr Bossy Boots can get hold of me again.
I need a break, and as far as I’m concerned he can get through lunch without his sycophant mistress hanging on his every word.
“Oh, hey! You finally coming out of that cave? Good, let’s go grab lunch and talk. I can’t wait to hear what the life of a corporate PA is like. Oh, and happy birthday!”
Lucy, just what I need right now, I think angrily, forcing a smile to my pinched lips.
“Hey, Luce, sorry, I can’t make lunch today. I’m going to see Amber.”
It’s a split second decision, and the moment I make it I know it’s something I need to do. Besides getting my money back, I want to know just what’s going on with the bakery and Gregory’s stake in it. A little late, but at least I’m getting there.
When I reach her shop, I am shocked at the changes. It’s no longer a dark little hole in the wall, but a bright, swanky place that seems to be doing well, from the number of people I have to squeeze through to get to Amber.
“Amber!” I yell, getting her attention.
She looks up and grimaces, waving me to the back as she rings up an order. I enter her office and flop into a seat.
“So, you here for your money?” she asks, slamming the door forcefully.
“Yup. I have things to pay, Am. I told you that when you took the loan.”
Her lip curls and she sneers at me, shocking me with a fury I’ve never seen from her. Amber is spoiled and rude at the best of times, but she’s usually easier to be around than this.
“You’re such a liar. Your rich boyfriend can take care of anything you need, and you’re trying to suck me dry?”
What?
“Am—”
“No! You’re my sister, the one person I should be able to count on, and instead of helping me you sic your bulldog on me and let him steal my business from me!”
My own anger explodes and I leap up to confront her, feeling so hurt and mad I can hardly see straight.
“You mean I’m your bank! The only time I see you is when you need money, and even then you only hang around long enough to insult me and take my money. I ask you one time to help me out with Nana, and you can’t even do that!” I yell, enjoying her shock when I get so up in her face she’s forced to stumble back.
“I told you what she did.”
“Excuses. You’re a spoiled goddamned brat who can’t even have enough self-respect not to steal from her own business! Yeah, I know how you’ve been skimming off the top. No wonder you’re always looking for cash to pay your staff,” I sneer, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
“Han—”
“I am so done with you. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself, and I refuse to be treated like a convenience a moment longer. Keep the money, shove it where the sun don’t shine, but never ever again knock on my door when you need something, because this ATM is closed. Oh, and thanks for saying happy birthday!”
By the time I’ve walked a block back to work I’ve cooled down enough to realize what I’ve done. Sure, Amber deserved some of what I said, but I know that I have taken my heartbroken frustration out on her instead of where it belongs.
Gregory Lucas.
As I walk it dawns on me that I can no longer do this. I’ve painted myself into a corner where he’s concerned, and there’s no way to get out without fucking up the paint job and getting myself plenty messy.
What I have been avoiding for weeks since our doomed sex night is now staring me in the face, and there’s nothing to do but get messy and then clean myself up afterward.