Page 102 of Forgotten Romance

“I can get you a bigger bonus this quarter. We’ve got some large accounts signing in the next few weeks. I’ll give them to you.”

I actually laugh. “That’s the complete opposite of what I want. More work?” I huff, taking note of the nine-hundred-and-something emails I have to sort through. It’s all too much. “It’s clear from this conversation you’re either not listening or don’t want to hear it.” I rub my eyes, fighting through the weariness. “I will make sure this client is happy. I will design one of the best PR briefs you’ve ever seen. It will launch internationally, and they will sell a fuck ton more product than they ever planned for. But then I’m done.”

“Davey—”

“No. Done. You’ve done a lot for me, Eric, and I appreciate it. I’ve loved working here. The pay and benefits are outstanding, I have a fantastic team, and I genuinely love working with them.” I shrug. “Some of the clients I could give or take, but it doesn’t matter how much I love those things, I love Mack and the kids more. I want my family back. I want my husband back. Jobs can be replaced. He can’t.”

Eric tries to say something, but I hold up my hand.

“I’ve made my decision. Please don’t make me lose the respect I have for you. Understand that I’ve thought about this. A lot. It’s not spur-of-the-moment.” Even though it definitely is. “And I really do thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“That’s it, then?”

I guess it is.

Eric stands and holds his hand out to me. “You’re a hell of a man, Davey. One of the best marketing minds I’ve met.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t want to see it go to waste.”

“If it does or it doesn’t, that’s my choice.”

He leaves, and I turn back to my work, expecting to feel a hell of a lot lighter.

And I do. For approximately the time it takes to draft and send my resignation letter, then the oh fucks kick in.

In two weeks, I’ll be unemployed. I’ve never been unemployed in my entire life.

I ignore the way my gut churns and get back to work, constantly reminding myself that once these two weeks are up, I’m heading home.

For good.

32

Mack

Everything hurts and I’m mopey, but I’m still somehow hopeful for the future. With Davey gone, I spend extra time making sure to smother Kiera and Van in love. I read, a lot, and fill my days with lunch dates and looking up cooking recipes.

I’m no master chef, and I pretty much hate getting home from work and having to think of what to make, but I love feeding my family, and the smile on Davey’s face when he ate a terrible version of his gran’s pudding was worth all the headaches to make it.

So I want to try putting real effort into it. Maybe I’ll still hate it, but maybe, if I plan ahead, I can view it as less of a task and more another piece of what makes me me.

Davey and I also text all day and talk for hours at night. As soon as he’s back in his hotel room and the kids are tucked away in bed, we shamelessly get ourselves off on a video call. I’m not sure if the extra attention is making things better or worse.

I miss him so deeply that even though I’m working on myself, even though I’m focusing on things I love, none of those things are hitting close to the comfort I need from them.

“Holy shit, did you hear?” Tonya shrieks, jumping out at me and all but hurricaning the things on my desk. “Rhonda’s retiring!”

I blink. Shake my head. Blink again. “But she’s only fifty-nine.”

Tonya throws up both hands. “Apparently, some relative died and left her a wad of cash, so she’s packing it up and moving somewhere hot.”

“Somewhere hot is the dream.”

“Someone dying and leaving me money is mine.”

Well, that’s morbid. I shoot her a look, idea starting to take hold. “Do … do you know … will they advertise for Rhonda’s position, do you think?”

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