Page 81 of Holding Out

“When were you going to tell me that you were still sleeping with him?”

Becca sighed.“I wasn’t in a hurry to tell you, because I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

Alia closed her eyes.“I just—”

“I know.You just don’t want me to get hurt.Well, I’m not going to get hurt.It’s not like that.He asked me if I’d think about staying here.”

Alia’s face went blank, and Becca’s stomach clenched.She pushed the tray, with her spaghetti-and-meatball lunch, away.

“Things are really good with him, Alia.You need to be happy for me.”

“Iamhappy for you,” Alia said.She did a creditable job of sounding and looking like she meant it.If the words—and the accompanying body language—had come from anyone Becca knew even slightly less well, she might have bought it, but she wasn’t convinced.

But there wasn’t much she could do about it, was there?Aside from hope that Alia was wrong to be wary.

“So are you going to stay?”Alia demanded.Now she was smiling for real.“Because you know that would make me really, really happy.”Then her look sharpened.“What are you planning to do for work?”

“I’m hoping Jake can find me something permanent.”

“Something with growth potential?”

“I didn’t ask him that,” Becca admitted.“But I will,Mom.”

“I just want what’s best for you.”

Becca gripped her sister’s hand, but she heard the warning behind the warmth in Alia’s words, too.And while part of her wanted to brush it off, another part of her curled in on itself, as if her sister’s wariness were catching.

The afternoon was peaceful,with the retreat winding down towards the weekend.Just before five, Becca’s brain ran out of steam for organizing the office space, and she began scrolling through the retreat’s Facebook page and making notes on how Jake could improve it.That’s what she was doing when the knock came at the door.

It was a woman, which was unusual.Almost everyone who walked through that door was a man and would be until the retreat opened its doors to female veterans, which was slated to happen next spring.

The woman was young—not much older than Becca—and strikingly pretty.She had long straight glossy black hair, dark wide-set eyes, and a rosebud mouth.She was like a Disney princess come to life.Her eyeliner winged at the corners and her lips were painted bright red.She wore skinny jeans and a metallic silver button-down shirt.Her body was lean but curvy.Becca couldn’t say why, but she knew this woman meant trouble for her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Becca returned.

“I’m looking for Griff.Griff Ambrose.”

Something clicked, gears slowly grinding into action, and Becca’s stomach tumbled.“I—he’s—I’m not sure where he is right now.”

“Is there any way to get in touch with him?Let him know I’m here?”

“Is he expecting you?”

And who are you?Are you who I think you are?

But she didn’t ask, partly because she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.

“No, but I’m—I’m an old friend.Marina Potter.”

The ground Becca had been standing on shifted.Lurched.

“I could try to reach him,” Becca said.What she really wanted to do was demand,How can you just show up here, after what you did to him?

She was unexpectedly furious, but there was nothing she could do that wouldn’t make the situation worse, so she picked up her phone.Griff was so rarely at his desk—he didn’t even reallyhavea desk—but she tried anyway to call the extension where he occasionally sat.As she’d expected, it rang through to voicemail.She didn’t leave a message.

When she hung up the phone, the other woman’s face fell.Which made Becca’s stomach feel even heavier.Knotted around itself.

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