Page 116 of Broken Deal

I was determined to go to the VP and show her everything, but when I logged in to my work email, everything was gone. It’s my fault, really, if you think about it. Leaving the laptop here, I practically handed it to him on a silver platter.

“I suppose not.” He laughs as he points at the letter. “You sure this is what you want?”

Instead of answering, I turn around and walk out that door for the last time, because I’m officially done with it all. I’m done with the city. There’s nothing for me here. It doesn’t matter how good of a writer I am, journalism jobs in Chicago are a rarity. There’s a reason I started as an assistant and worked myself to the bone to rise through the ranks. All the hours wasted, the tears, the anger, and the stress werefor…nothing. Because I’m tired, and I’ll be grabbing my things and not looking back ever again.

Sweat prickles down my neck as I tape a box labeledBOOKS. Packing is taking me less than I thought, because my apartment is the size of a box and I’ve always been sort of a minimalist. The less I had, the bigger my apartment looked. All I have left to do is sell the furniture, which will help me get some extra money that will help me cover for Mom’s mortgage one more month.

Who would have thought, at the ripe age of twenty-six, I would be moving back to my childhood home? The thought alone makes me shiver. It’s only temporary, though. As soon as I get a job, I am moving us out of that damn house.

As I’m folding my winter clothes, I hear some keys rattle and the front door opening. I don’t even bat an eye, because it was only a matter of time before my best friends came to check in on me. I disappeared on everyone, and they have been calling and texting.

Everyone but him.

I should be thankful he was smart enough to take the last thing I said to him seriously. But it stings. I thought, after everything, we deserved a little more than this. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He made his feelings quite clear. I have only myself to blame, thinking this time it was going to be different.

Before I can spiral any deeper, I slam the door shut on those thoughts. I can’t afford to think about him, becausewhen I do, it feels like a thousand tiny needles are piercing my chest. Giving it any more thought is just going to slowly kill me.

Doesn’t matter if you don’t think about it. It’s killing you all the same.

I sigh, giving a final shove to all those emotions and slapping on a smile as I walk out of my room. Both of my friends are standing in the living room, their faces twisted in concern as they take in the mess around them.

“What’s happening here?” Aria asks carefully.

“Oh.” I wave my hand around. “I’m moving,” I manage to say with a casual tone.

Isabella’s eyes flash with a hint of hurt as she takes a step back. “Were you planning on telling us?”

“Of course, silly.” I force my practiced laugh.

They both stand there, staring at me expectantly. For the first time in a long time, I can feel my mask slipping. I fake a cough as I walk back into my room and busy myself with more packing, folding boxes and shoving clothes inside, trying to keep my hands moving.

Aria follows me, snatching the coat I’d spent twenty minutes folding out of my hands.

“Hey! That took me forever to fold!” I snap, trying to grab it back.

“I’m not doing this with you,” Aria says firmly, pointing a finger at me. “You’re not going to pretend everything’s fine when Iknowit’s not. I’ve given you three days to cool off, but enough is enough.Sit.” She points to the bed with authority.

“Bossy much?” I mumble but comply, crossing my legs beneath me.

She levels me with a dry, exasperated look. “You forced my hand.”

Isabella lingers in the doorway, arms crossed. “Matteo told me what happened.”

I snort, shaking my head. “I can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You? Talking to Matteo?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “We’re married now,” she says, as if that explains everything.

“Yeah, and youstillhaven’t explained what happened there.”

Aria snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling me back. “No. I’m not letting you deflect. While I’m dying to know what’s going on withthosetwo, I’m more worried about you. Where are you going? Why are you packing?”

“I’m moving back home.”

“ToKentucky?!” they both exclaim at the same time.

“Where else?” I shrug. “Turned in my resignation letter this morning. My lease is ending soon. It works out perfectly.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Isabella mutters, rubbing her temples. “So, you’re quitting your job and running away because you and Lorenzo broke up?”

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