Page 41 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
And before she could correct me or jump down my throat, I hung up the phone as the elevator doors slid closed.
I raced home as quickly as I could and traded my briefcase for an apron. I ripped open the refrigerator door, took stock of what I had to whip up for a nice appetizer, and decided on a luscious vegetable soup. I pulled out carrots and celery. I found half of a sweet onion I needed to use as well as some potatoes I had forgotten at the bottom of the produce drawer. And after grabbing a block of cheese and some broccoli to grate into the soup, I started making magic in the form of warm bisque and toasted garlic bread to dip into it.
But, when I heard the front door ease open, the next sound I heard sent me charging for Maggie. Because I heard her sniffling as soon as she walked through the door.
“Mags!” I called out.
I abandoned my soup and rushed to catch her just as her knees collapsed from beneath her. I managed to kick the door closed as she sobbed against me, clinging to me for dear life.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Come here,” I said softly.
“I can’t do this,” she said through her sobs.
I scooped her into my arms and carried her into the kitchen. “Just breathe. You’re here, and you’re safe, and you’re okay. Just breathe.”
She cried against my shoulder. “I-I-I—I can’t do this. I have to—I have—liqui—Michael, I—”
I sat her on the edge of the kitchen counter. “Breathe. You have to breathe, Maggie. Okay? With me. Breathe with me. Ready?”
But, the second we went to draw in breaths of air through our noses, her face wrinkled again, and her sobs overtook her lungs. She leaned against me, her tears dripping against my chest as I wrapped my arms around her. I kissed the top of her head as her tears soaked into my button-down dress shirt. I scooted between her legs, feeling them lock around my waist as I rocked her softly side to side.
“Whatever it is, you’re never alone. Not with me. I promise,” I whispered softly.
And with every sob that poured forth from her pillowy lips, I felt the need to punch something. Because dammit, a woman this intelligent and this beautiful and this hardworking didn’t deserve the kind of sadness she felt.
15
Maggie
The next two weeks passed by in such a blur that I almost couldn’t breathe. I kept cutting my hours at the spa and calling in to use sick leave days just to deal with the bullshit that kept popping up with the boutiques, and I simply couldn’t take it any longer. Whenever something went wrong, it was a reminder that my father was no longer here. It was a reminder that he wasn’t here to deal with these issues anymore, and yet it still reminded me that even if he were here, it wasn’t as if he’d deal with these things the way he needed to. It was a double whammy of tiresome proportions, and I felt like a walking zombie more than anything else.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Guadalupe, I know I’m late. It’s just been a hell of a—”
Guadalupe held up her hand. “Just get to work, Maggie. We need you here when you’re here, okay?”
I sighed. “Yes, of course. I’ll get right on it. And I’ll be staying late as well to make up the time.”
“Just go!”
When Guadalupe yelled at me, everything in the spa came to a grinding halt. Margo looked over at her as if she had lost her mind, and I couldn’t help it as tears dripped down my cheeks. Not once had I ever heard Guadalupe raise her voice at anyone for anything. Not even Yuslan, whenever he’d botch one of his projects and caused more bad than good.
In fact, I wasn’t sure anyone had ever heard her raise her voice.
Until she did it with me, of course.
As I slinked into my small office and closed the door, I knew the inevitable was coming. Eventually, she would fire me if I didn’t quit of my own volition. I stared at the spa computer screen after logging in and saw the work piling up in front of my very eyes. Tickets for disputes on everything from checks that we couldn’t cash to scheduling issues to our own customers' complaints about negligent products or reactions they’ve had to our topical facial treatments.
Exhaustion crept into my bones as I leaned heavily against the back of my chair.
Sooner rather than later, I knew I’d have to choose. I’d either have to quit my job here at the spa or liquidate my father’s businesses. But I didn’t want to do any of it. I didn’t want to liquidate my father’s only legacy, nor did I want to give up the life I had carved out for myself. I mean, the spa was the only family I had now that my only living relative had passed away unexpectedly. And now I was supposed to entertain the idea of leaving? Or getting fired?
It wasn’t my fault that I was in the situation to begin with!
Even as my mind refused to admit it, though, my heart pushed me forward. I found myself ignoring the tickets blinking at me on the screen in the order in which they arrived, and, instead, I turned my attention to the numbers a fiduciary had been kind enough to give me a couple of weeks ago. I had found myself standing helplessly in front of his office after the impossible task of replacing the piping in one of my boutiques had reached an all-time ridiculous sort of high. And I supposed my tears swayed the guy to take me into his office and run me through a handful of scenarios in which I could come out of this entire situation in the black. But all of those scenarios required me to quit the spa.
I figured that so long as I had a job that paid me a decent income, I could funnel that money into the boutiques. However, the fiduciary talked me through why that was one of the shittiest plans I could ever adhere to.
You know, because the universe hated me that much.
