“Since when have you known me to act before thinking?”
Phoebe laughed. “Don’t try that with me. When it comes to business, you’re calculating and careful. But when it comes to dealing with people on a personal level—well, um, well, that’s a whole other story. You kinda suck at it.”
I hated to admit Phoebe was right, so I settled for saying, “She gets one more month.”
“Good. Now, was there something else you wanted, or can I get back to my real work?”
“You mean flirting with Ramona and hoping she catches on that you’re hopelessly in love with her?”
“Of course, what else would I mean?”
At this, I rolled my eyes. “Just ask her out already.”
“Ah, well, you see, dating girls isn’t as simple as you seem to think,” Phoebe began. “Not for us girls, anyway. I can’t just ask her out. There are steps that need to be followed—things I need to find out in advance. Like, is she single, what does she like to do, does she listen to Ani Difranco?”
“I don’t see how this is any different than hetero dating. You’re stalling.”
There was a pause. “Shut up.”
Teasing Phoebe about her lack of a romantic life—Not that I had a romantic life to show for. Had sex? Yes. But romance? Nope—was the easiest way to rile her up. I’d been doing it since we were teenagers, and it hadn’t lost its effectiveness.
I grinned. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“I’m hanging up on you now.”
“Bye, Mac, Goddess of HR.”
She snorted. “Bye, boss who owes me a T-shirt and—”
I chuckled, cutting her off. “Call you tomorrow, Mac.”
“Bye, again. Stop restarting the conversation. I’m hanging up.” And she hung up.
I shook my head. She always had to have the last word. I felt better and relaxed after our conversation, but still unsure about Lucy. If I were honest with myself, I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what it was that bothered me about her (except the mistakes I’d seen for myself—the unfinished reports being a huge slip due to distraction). Despite what Phoebe said, I did tend to give new personnel the benefit of the doubt, but something about Lucy rubbed me the wrong way.
There was a knock on my door, and when I called out, Lucy tentatively poked her head in.
“Mr. Willingham, I have your father on line one.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
I kept my composure and my voice steady. “Now is not the time. In the future, you can just take a message from him. You don’t have to keep him on hold.”
The last person I wanted to speak to was my father. We would only end up fighting—like we always did. He’d taken to calling the office several times a week trying to get in touch with me, and I was quick to dismiss him.
“Yes, sir.” Lucy turned to leave. “But he says it’s urgent.”
“Everything is urgent to him. I say otherwise. Please, take a message.”
Lucy seemed relieved at my calm tone and nodded in understanding. “Of course, sir. Will do.”
She left quickly and I watched her go, thinking about Phoebe’s advice. I’d give her a chance, but only because the thought of finding a new assistant seemed mind-numbing.
Determined to get some actual work done, I turned to my computer. A moment later, my cell phone rang, and my father’s name popped up on the screen.
I declined the call.
2
Ella
“Fucking traffic drives me nuts.” The cab driver eyed me through the rearview mirror, more specifically, my breasts. I almost felt the need to cover myself, but that would draw even more attention.
What a perv, I thought, and almost regretted having dressed up and wearing a push-up bra.
“Son of a bitch.” The cabbie swore under his breath as we came to a stand-still at the intersection.
This guy was getting on my damn nerves. Of all the cabs I could’ve gotten into, I had to choose this one. He banged his fists against the steering wheel and leaned his head out the window, cursing at drivers who could no more move through the traffic than we could. When he was done, he attempted a peek in the mirror again. I shifted to the side and kept my mouth shut, even though I had a few choice words myself. Shithead being the nicest.
I looked at my phone instead, glad I’d decided to leave early to meet Marcus. I smiled at the photo that served as my phone’s background. My daughter’s adorable round face smiled back at me, blue eyes sparkling with happiness as I tickled her. Awww. She’d been the one thing that helped me through my depression, and if it hadn’t been for her, I probably wouldn’t have sought help. Things had slowly begun to improve, but it would be a long time before I got my life back in order.
When I was younger, it seemed as if life’s possibilities were endless. My mother had encouraged me in anything and everything I wanted to pursue. I thought I could take on the world. But then, the harsh realities of life set in, and everything changed.
The past two years of my life had been a whirlwind of ups and downs. I had been through a dark time where I couldn’t even keep my job at the museum’s bar, which I’d only just begun to crawl out of. I’d always been able to take care of myself … but somewhere along the way, I’d lost my independence.
And the worst part was, I hadn’t even realized it.
Nearly thirty minutes later, the cab finally drove through the long winding path, pulling up outside of Regal Heights Resort & Spa. As I stepped onto the curb, my eyes followed the massive building all the way to the top. It felt larger and more intimidating than I remembered. Or maybe it just felt that way because of what I was doing there.
The lobby bustled with guests, and I did my best to stay out of their way as I walked toward the main dining room. With each step, the knots in my stomach twisted tighter and tighter, until I felt like I might throw up. I was determined not to cave in, because if I did, I was going to just turn around and never come back.
I approached the podium and was greeted by an overly cheerful host. “Good afternoon! Table for one?”
“Actually, I’m here for a lunch meeting with Mar—Mr. Willingham.” I gave him a polite smile. “My name is Ella Rawson.”
“Ah, yes, of course, Ms. Rawson.” The host nodded his head once. “Won’t you follow me?”
Clutching the strap of my purse, he led me through the dining room to an intimate table toward the back of the restaurant.
“Thank you.” I nervously took a seat.
“My pleasure.” He handed me a menu. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
“Just water would be great, thanks.”
He walked away and I was left alone, fidgeting in my seat. I hung my purse over the back of the chair and was just about to slip my phone inside when I felt it vibrate. I was greeted with a string of texts.
When are you going to call me back? We need to talk.
I know you read my texts.
You can’t ignore me forever.
This is stupid.
You’ve proved your point. Come back home.
Don’t be such a bitch.
For fuck’s sake! I have a right to see my daughter.