Page 7 of The Bargain
Sofia, I don’t know what happened, and I told myself to give you space, but I need to say this to you. First, I’m sorry about my father. That was not a reflection on us or me. Nor is he involved with Moore’s or Zoey. Or us. Whatever happened, the future is about you. And no one gets to take your dream away, most especially me. Come to Paris. Make this happen. But also, and it’s a big also, emotions have no place in business, and if you turn this down, neither do you. And yes, I’m brutally honest. That will never change, but I really do hope that honesty leads you to Paris.
—Ethan
For a moment that turns into far longer, I just stare at the screen. He didn’t call. He seems to have only sent me this message to protect his reputation. He did, after all, push for the Zoey brand. There’s a twist in my belly that is pure emotional pain. I toss the phone across the bed, pull my knees to my chest, and bury my fingers in the light blonde of my hair so like my mother’s. I miss her always, but in some moments,thismoment, more than ever. She’d talk this out with me. She’d help me unravel the knots in my belly. Instead, I’m not only alone, but Ethan has just knifed me all over again.
He didn’t say, “Come back.” He didn’t say, “Stay with me there.” He didn’t ask why I left. He focused on the business side of things. He told me to go to Paris. I drop my hands and press them to the mattress and face reality. I’m not personal to him. I try to tell myself that’s actually a compliment. No matter what happened between us, he sees my work as good for Moore’s, where he’s invested his money.
And yet, even so, I find myself itching to type,Fuck you, Ethan, in reply.
Instead, I type nothing at all.
Chapter Four
Sofia
IwalkintomyCherryCreek home, a duplex that no one knows is a duplex, my pride and joy, that’s always felt like a dream come true. I bought it. I own it. Now, I have the chance to turn my design dream into an even bigger dream, a Cinderella story, of sorts, and for just a little while I thought Ethan was my Prince Charming. But I don’t need Prince Charming. I have come a long way all by my lonesome. I set my bag inside the door, lock up, and flip on the light, silence greeting me.
So. Much. Silence.
Too much silence.
You’d think after twelve hours of travel delays, I’d welcome peace and quiet, but somehow it feels off. It feels lonely. “Damn you, Ethan,” I whisper, and grab my bag again, to stomp into thebedroom. One look at the bed, and I head to the kitchen, open a bottle of wine, fill a glass, and then grab a bag of Cheetos. Dinner is served. And it’s the best.No, I think, tossing the bag on the counter. It sucks. I’m ordering ten egg rolls, two pizzas, and a few tacos.
I finally settle on a pint of brownie ice cream which I set on the nightstand to get mushy, just the way I like it, and then hit the shower. Of course, I take my phone. What if the asshole calls? He won’t, but what if? And why do I care? I step in the shower and attempt to melt my skin off with a ridiculously hot spray of water. When I’m bright red, and my body is as scorched as my heart, I pull on baggy pajamas and plod my slippered feet to the bed where I climb under the sheets, ignore my wine, and proceed to eat the entire pint.I hate him, I think, as I fall asleep, only to fade into a dream in which I’m naked and he’s between my legs, licking me with the precision of an asshole using me for sex.
Very well.
I wake up a ball of emotion and frustration, which is exactly why I start the day with a run, which is a hobby that became a near obsession after I lost my mother. My therapist said I was seeking the endorphin high, and even though it was a fitness habit, excess is never a good thing. I’d also learned then that I was hiding from the emotional pain with physical pain.
I kind of think Ethan was a version of an endorphin high, another way to fill the emptiness of life without my mother. She would have been so excited for me right now, and it’s hard not to feel that. It must be messing with me. Why else would I sleep with him even after I knew he was basically my boss? I might not fully understand what is going on with my decision-making right now, but I know that I need to go to Paris. I know that Ethan will be in Paris, which means I need to set healthy limits with him the way I have with other things in my life.
With a solid plan in place, I shower, down a protein shake (surely that makes up for the pint of ice cream?), and dress in a breezy pink sundress I designed myself. I’ve seen time and time again that wearing my brand is the best way to show off my designs and stir excitement in my customers. I’ve just finished off a cup of coffee when my father shoots me a text.Are you home?
Finally,I reply.I got in late and didn’t want to wake you, but I’m up and headed to the shop now.
Perfect. You can set the schedule up for when you’re in Paris. You know I’ll keep an eye on things.
And there it is. Another concern niggling at me. He’s struggling with his own business. He doesn’t need mine in the mix as well. But nothing I say or do will stop him from looking out for my store and me. He’s devoted to those he loves. He’s devoted to those he’s in business with as well, and yeah, my father hit some financial bumps, but he’s a solid investment. Ethan couldn’t see beyond the finances, and he missed out.
He couldn’t see the man, only the money.
And yet, he’s doing business with me.
There’s no right way to deal with this when it comes to my father, and for now I grab my purse and head for the door. A few minutes later, I’ve finished my walk through the cozy, upper-class area of Denver called Cherry Creek, where I live and work. I adore the walkability and storefronts in the area, and I love my corner location in a big way. Visitors who enter Zoey’s are greeted with racks of adorable clothing and a cluster of cute displays that spotlight makeup, accessories, and knickknacks, all of which I’ve brought in through years of partnership developments, the most recent of which is our shoe department.
“You’re back!”
This from Lily the pretty, my part-time store manager, who’s presently rushing my direction. Lily is truly the sweetest personI know, a pretty blonde who’s positively stunning today in a whimsical white dress etched with flowers, which just so happens to be one of my favorite creations to date.
I’m swept into a hug, after which she compels, “Tell me all about New York!”
Her excitement is contagious, and despite my Ethan situation, I find myself excited to talk about the Zoey brand. We head to the back office and spend half an hour talking through the entire presentation, and Lily’s excitement is over the top. “I just have to ask, will you hire me if this goes all the way? Like, really hire me? Do I have a shot?”
“You’re being silly, woman. Is that even a real question? You’re already Team Zoey, but I’m worried about the store when I’m gone.”
“I’ll handle it,” she insists.
“You have design school and a limited schedule.”
