Page 92 of Miss Matched

“Didn’t doubt you for a second,” she says, her smile quickly morphing from excited to nervous. “But I hate to tell you, you’re not away from the firing squad just yet.”

“Samson?” My shoulders sag.

“You wish. He scurried back to his office as soon as he heard the meeting didn’t go his way.” She places a hand on either of my shoulders and looks up at me. “This, boss man, is going to be much worse.”

Her eyes dart into my office, and I turn to see two women with a bone to pick, arms crossed and heels as high as skyscrapers. The cavalry has arrived.

“Monica,” I say, walking in and taking a seat at my desk. “And I’m guessing you’re Luce?”

“Don’t you Luce and Monica us,” Monica says with her arms crossed over her chest.

If I thought facing the board was going to be bad, nothing could have prepared me for Kennedy’s friends. Narrow eyes size me up, making me feel five inches tall, urging me to explain myself, go on the defense, admit I was wrong.

It all dies on my tongue in a single breath.

“How is she?” I ask.

“No.” Luce holds up a finger. “You don’t get to ask us that. If you want to know how she’s doing, you call her yourself.”

Her abruptness kind of pisses me off, even if I appreciate her protectiveness. Kennedy wasn’t mincing words when she described Luce as cutthroat. Her posture gives nothing away, cold and stern, and she’s stripping me with her look.

“What can I help you with, then?” I ask, resting my elbows on my desk.

“You messed up,” Monica says bluntly.

I lean back and rake my fingers through my hair. “I’m aware.”

“Are you?” Luce asks. “Because you didn’t text, you didn’t call, you didn’t explain.”

“What do you expect? I’m not the good guy here, never claimed to be. Kennedy knew that walking in. Why the fuck do you think I needed her help in the first place?” I say, feeling out of breath. “I know I’m a fucking mess. You want to hear that I should have worked it out, apologized, stayed? I was just going to drag her down sooner or later.”

Luce chuckles under her breath. “She wasn’t looking for a knight in shining fucking armor, Zac. She doesn’t need you to protect her from the big bad world. The least you could have done was not make that decision for her.”

I’m taken aback by Luce’s harsh words coupled with Monica’s frown. People are often nervous around me, careful. They aim to stay on my good side and reap the benefits. But Kennedy’s friends couldn’t care less. They’re loyal, nails sharp for battle. It reminds me how Kennedy once said you can tell a lot about a person by the people they surround themselves with.

Twin glares across the table prove what I already know. Kennedy is worth every ounce of their protection and friendship.

“And what would I have said?” My fingers dig into the arms of my chair, like the room is spinning and it’s all I have left to hold me in place. “That she was the one who kept shutting me out in the first place? That I never cared because she was worth every second of it? That I’m sorry and I hate myself for what I did? And if I could do it all over again, I’d stop her in that fucking doorway and tell her that I love her, even if it would give her the power to ruin me?”

Both of them freeze.

“Do you?” Monica says. “Love her?”

“Yes.” I swallow hard, because saying it out loud isn’t the same as thinking it, and it feels like the words are clogging my throat. “Of course I love her.” It’s almost a whisper this time. “But I love her enough to know she’s better off without me.”

Monica leans forward, her curls falling over her shoulders and her face softening.

“You asked how she’s doing. Well, she’s doing okay. It’s Kennedy, after all; she’s good at hiding it.” Monica shrugs. “But thinking you’re saving her from pain by keeping your distance is selfish, and you know it. It’s not for her, it’s for you.”

“You broke her heart, big guy,” Luce says, tapping her nails on her arm.

“Broke her heart? She didn’t want a relationship,” I say.

“How you’ve managed to successfully run a company and still be so blind is kind of mind-blowing,” Luce says, laughing under her breath. “I thought Kennedy was dense, but you, sir, are giving her a run for her money.”

Monica slaps Luce on the arm.

“What? She’s still convinced she doesn’t love him.” Luce tips her head toward me.

---