Page 23 of One Big Little Secret

Nope. Can’t do it.

I can’t let that happen.

Go ahead and call it unethical or selfish or what the hell ever.

One night with Patton Rory blew my life to smithereens once. I’m not letting him do it a second time.

Also, this life was my mistake—not his—and I’m not dragging him back for money or involvement with a kid I’m sure he’d be allergic to.

At the end of the day, it’s better for Arlo to think his father’s a ghost than a man who wants nothing to do with him.

The sauce starts spitting out of the pot while I’m busy overthinking it and prepping some garlic bread to go in the oven. I almost burn my hand while I turn down the heat.

If I hadn’t let myself go and had too much fun that one time—one time!—I wouldn’t be in this epic mess right now.

Lesson learned.

No more fun.

No more randomness.

No more room for chaos.

It’s work, money, and Arlo, just like it’s always been.

That’s been plenty over the last six years of my life, and it should be enough for the next six years too.

I chewmy lip as I look at the artwork lining the corridors of The Cardinal.

It’s perfectly nice, yes, if you like pastoral landscapes and nothing else.

They’re all prints of famous paintings in the big galleries, mainly nineteenth century scenes of rural life, as I discovered last night when I looked them up. But that doesn’t mean they’ll be popular.

In fact, considering I didn’t evenknowthey were famous paintings until I did some research, they might not catch a second glance from a lot of our guests. And my research into the trends at other competitive, high-end modern hotels tells me they like color.

Daring. Bold. Bright.

Notbland and subdued.

I make notes of which paintings could be replaced with a splash of color. I imagine a real designer could make better choices, but if I can prove I’ve done my homework when I send these improvements to Mr. Rory, maybe it’ll raise my abysmal standing in his eyes.

Maybe—and I might be shooting for the moon here—it’ll undo some of the bruising damage Arlo did to my reputation.

Mr. Rory didn’t even show up this morning to the senior staff meeting.

Something else that sets me on edge.

Here I am, waiting breathlessly and dreading his arrival equally.

I want him to be impressed. I want this mentorship on my résumé more than anything, but ideally, I don’t want to see him again beyond the necessary meetings, once I’ve got my bearings.

And no, I don’t have a clue how to reconcile these two desires.

My phone buzzes and my heart jolts until I see the caller.

Not Mr. Rory calling to arrange another meeting—probably to fire me. It’s Kayla.

I should ignore it. Iwantto ignore it.

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