Page 26 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“Which girlfriend is that for?” she mutters, rolling her eyes as she puts down her keys.

I flinch a little. “Um, actually I got it for you,” I tell her as Istand, making my way around the couch and into the kitchen. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was wrong to lash out and I feel terrible.”

Her brown eyes meet mine, and for the first time I wish I could say she looked mad. Or that she looked sad. Anything other than… blank. Passive. Emotionless.

“So you bought me a purse?” she asks, giving it a sidelong glance. She doesn’t move toward it.

“Not just any purse,” I tell her, opening the box. “A designer purse. The sales guy said there’s only two like it.”

Her eyes don’t waver from mine. Her face is red; almost puffy. Her black eyeliner is smudged just a touch.

“You’re joking, right?”

I shake my head. Okay… not quite the response I was hoping for, but maybe this is her excited. Maybe she really loves it and just doesn’t want to show me.

“Leo, do you really think you can just buy your way out of any sticky situation?”

I stop, my lips pursed. I mean, yes?

“I just thought it would be nice to show how sorry I am?—”

Her hand comes up, stopping me. “I don’t want a purse, Leo. An apology would have been fine. Why in the world would you think I want a purse like that?”

“Everyone likes nice things,” I tell her with a shrug. I thought everyone would love them.

Briar just shakes her head, her eyes dark as she massages her temples.

“That’s your issue, Leo. You think you can buy yourself out of everything. Out of any kind of trouble. Out of proper apologies. You can’t do that. It may have worked in the past, but not everything gets taken care of that way, okay?”

I’m not sure how to respond, and my stomach sinks.

But I never considered that.

No matter what I’ve done in the past, money has alwaysbeen the answer. The only thing I didn’t fix with it is the situation with Owen and Isla, and that was only because at that point, I had done enough, and I was already paying for her apartment.

I made a girl I was seeing angry? Designer purse. Caught passed out on someone’s lawn? Publicist covered it up.

That one was ahugebill.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, my arms dropping to my sides.

“You show you’re sorry to people by listening. By changing your actions. By showing that you actually care about them,” she says, irritation clear in her eyes.

I nod, trying to figure out a proper response. But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

She lets out a sigh, her eyes squeezing shut. “I was coming here to tell you I don’t think I can do this, Leo. I think I have to find work elsewhere.”

I can feel sweat bead at the back of my neck, my heart rate increasing. “What? Why?”

“It’s just not working out, Leo. I’m sorry.”

She moves to head toward her room, and I start to panic. “I’m sorry, Briar. I’m learning. I want to hear what you have to say. I’ll be better.”

She doesn’t look back.

“Do I not pay you enough?” I ask, getting angry now.

She stops, looking over her shoulder. “Leo, you offered to pay me more in a week than I made in a month. Why in the world would you think you didn’t pay me enough?”

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