Page 90 of Tender Offer
Had Preston held a conversation long enough, he’d have known about the job that had me on a red-eye to Los Angeles. The pay is great, and the shots will be in a major fashion magazine for all to see.
Why stay frustrated at home when you can be frustrated cashing a check and enjoying a Friday night with champagne?
The party ended some time ago, leaving me and Emma as the last two seated at the bar. It’s fairly empty, the remnants of cocktail glasses left on the honey-wood counter. A large mirror between top-shelf bottles reflects low-hung chandeliers and the worst attempt at an awkward conversation.
“You’re still a bitch,” Emma says.
I choke on champagne that threatens to shoot through my nose. “I’m a good person once you get to know me!”
“You mean once you get past your thirsty ways of running after married men?” A brow lifts. “You’re lucky you didn’t catch a beatdown.”
I open my mouth to defend myself but think twice. Emma makes it sound like I set worldrecords chasing down unavailable men. I am guilty of flirting with Terrence while he was with Justice, but I neverranafter him until I saw him at the singles’ retreat. It wasn’t a run, anyway. More like a slow strut withconfidence that evaporated after he sprinted toward Justice. Twice.
The gut-punch of embarrassment faded, but not the guilt of my actions. “You’re right,” I say to Emma, who’s daring me to lie. I don’t scare easily, but now I flinch. “You don’t fight, do you?”
“Do I look like I’d chance ruining this dress over you?”
It looks vintage, so no.
I nod at the bartender, who’s eyeing my drink for a refill. He offers a sympathetic smile. His salt-and-pepper hair contrasts with the blue-gray stare he snaps at Emma, warning her to be nicer.
If he only knew.
“I appreciate your willingness to sit with me.”
“Like I had a choice.”
Right, because I came over to her.
“I really was a bitch,” I admit through a breath.
“Was?”
I deserve that. Back to my glass my eyes go. “I can’t apologize enough for my behavior at the singles’ retreat. Before.” The loose waves reaching past my shoulders fan at my headshake. “I was in a bad place and wanted… There’s no excuse for how I treated Justice. I never expected Terrence to leave her.”
“You’re not that delusional.” Emma’s gaze roves over me. “Maybe you are.”
I was.
Envy weaved itself with entitlement. I never crossed lines I couldn’t come back from, but I left a path of destruction because of my selfishness.
Emma is talking, but the chaos of my thoughts is louder. Is this how Bellamy feels about Preston, so fed up with the world around her that she latches on to affection at any cost? It’s funny how you don’t focus on the casualties you create until you become a target.
The tears I hold back weigh heavy. “Trust me when I say I feel awful. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching since the retreat. Work I should’ve done years ago. I’m not a person who plots and schemes to take people down.”
No matter how I justify the actions I knew needled under Justice’s skin, I bear the scarlet letter. Change can’t afford the past, but I don’t want my poor judgment to define who I am. Emma is close with Kojo, which means the likelihood of us together beyond random after-parties is up there. I’m not delusional enough to expect a friendship, but I hope we can be cordial.
By some small miracle, Emma and I navigate the minefield of my past actions and regret. I’m a drink away from calling it a night and heading to my hotel room upstairs, but I can’t shake the feeling that’s been troubling me since I got the courage to come over.
“Are you okay?” I gauge her reaction to my inquiry. “You don’t owe me anything—least of all an explanation—but I recognize it. The mask to make everything look like it’s fine when it’s not.” My grip constricts around my glass. “I wore it for many years. Still do.”
Preston is slipping away, the same way he did in Paris. I can feel it, and I’m not ready for the wave of heartbreak to return. I barely survived it the first time.
“When is feeling ignored enough?” Emma’s voice is faint, but the heartbreak is clear. Her arresting features—a blend of high-arched brows, smooth cheekbones, and pursed, full lips—loosen the facade held up by her willpower.
“Let me know once you find out,” I mumble.
Preston is probably off to another three-hour meeting. Busyness comes with the CEO territory, but it doesn’t give him the right to invest in pursuing me only to snatch the effort away once he hooks me.
