Page 69 of How to Break My Heart
CHAPTER 19Aston
The night of the dinner ended just as I anticipated. My father drank himself into a stupor while calling me the biggest disappointment of his life. It’s nothing new, and frankly, I can take his drunken slurs. It’s better me than Mom or Madelina.
He knew better than to show his face the following day. Mom stayed at the hotel, and he drove to Boston for a few days. God knows what business he had there, and I did not care to ask. It made sense to drive back to the city, given that remote work is much more complex than I thought, and Madelina was kind enough to fetch my keys from Everleigh so I could drive back.
And that in itself is a whole other mind-fuck.
Everleigh evoked something inside of me, something I can’t explain.
No one, and I mean no one, drives my car.
But it isn’t the car that made me question everything, far from it. It’s how she made me feel that night. I lost control inside that bathroom, and afterward, she saw a side of me I wish she hadn’t. The moment her hand caressed my cheek, I pulled away. Scared of how a simple touch made me feel like I deserved better.
Hence my need to escape to Manhattan and back to where I thrive on my own.
Will sits across from me inside the boardroom after everyone leaves the room.
“What the hell was that?” he blurts out.
It was five hours of torture listening to plans of how wecouldcome out on top after my father single-handedly destroyed my hard work from the past year. The Beaumont Group is known for its property investments, and my father’s ego is causing our stakeholders to lose confidence in us. Thispanic planis not how I intended to spend the last five hours.
“That is the result of my father giving zero fucks,” I answer coldly.
I push the chair back and stand, facing the window. With my arms crossed, I give myself a much-needed moment to think.
“We need to come up with a game plan. Strategize against these old fuckers because this willnothappen. You worked your ass off the last year, and those acquisitions will go ahead, mark my words,” Will responds sternly. “Your father has officially gone mad.”
“He certainly has,” I mumble, gazing at the tall buildings surrounding us. “I need some time to think about how to handle this.”
“But time is of the essence,” Will reminds me. “Look, I know you have your sister’s wedding, but do you really need to go back to Cinnamon Springs?”
“Yes, eventually. There’s other business I need to take care of.”
Will remains silent behind me, but then he can’t resist when I don’t offer. “What other business?”
I turn around. “Just someone.”
“Someone?” Will grins annoyingly, only to shake his head. “Are you getting laid in your small town?”
My lips press together into a grimace, refusing to answer his question. Technically, I amnotgetting laid, despite thinking about how sweet Everleigh would be to fuck. I’ve laid in bed every single night since I felt her explode all over my fingers,thinking about ways to forget it happened so I can move on with my life.
“I am not,” I state simply. “Things have gotten a little complicated with someone from the past.”
Will nods with an arrogant smirk. “I know that look, buddy. Been there, and hey, look at me now.”
My lips curve. “You’re married to the ball and chain?”
“Hush. You let Amelia hear you say that, and you’ll wish you’d never said a word.” Will grabs his phone and slides it into his pocket. “Let’s sort out this shit here so you can go back to your small town and get laid by whoever it is you can’t stop obsessing over.”
“I don’t obsess over a woman.” I’m quick to set him straight, clearing my throat and fixing my cuff links. “That’s not my style.”
Will rests his hand on my shoulder. “It may not be your style, but with the right woman, you’ll have no control. Mark my words, Beaumont.”
The week doesn’t get any better. I fly to DC to meet with an investor to ensure we still have them on board despite the legal proceedings surrounding my father. Our attorneys are working around the clock, but assure me this will be settled in the next few weeks, and business will resume as usual. I crave normalcy, wishing I could sleep at night without all this grief weighing on me. I’m surviving on caffeine and adrenaline to get me through the back-to-back meetings. It’s taking its toll on me, but I know I can’t slow down. The moment I slow down will be the moment the wheels come off the tracks, and my father will have another thing to hold over my head.
I sit in another meeting, wired on my third espresso of the day. A text message from Ramona, oddly, finds its way to me. The random question surprises me, since I forgot all about Ramona. I ignore the message, not wanting to meet for dinner. Aside from the fact that I couldn’t think of anything worse, I’m in the city with far too much work on my plate.
Then, my phone pings again.
