Chapter Thirty

Miranda blinked hereyes, gritty from salt and lack of sleep. Since she had resigned a week ago, she had sequestered herself in her condo, barely eating and not answering the phone or door. She mostly stared at the television, not really seeing anything but not able to sleep and escape her reality. But last night, somewhere around two in the morning, she had finally slept until something woke her up.

She wrapped her blanket around her and stumbled down the hall just as the door opened. Her mother walked, holding a large brown bag with wonderful smells emitting from them. Miranda’s stomach rumbled in response, the first time she’d been hungry since everything had turned to shit. Gwen faced her and shook her head.

“Well, you certainly look nothing like Ms. Georgia, Miranda. Didn’t I teach you better than this?”

“Mom, forgive me if I’m just not in the mood right now. I’m tired and really don’t want a lecture.” Miranda wandered into the living room and curled up on the couch.

“You’re a mess. I brought your favorite– fried chicken. Now get in here and eat something. And don’t tell me you’re not hungry because I can hear your stomach from here.”

Miranda dragged herself up from the couch and into the dining area where her mother set the table. She didn’t expect to eat but as soon as the first bite of crispy chicken hit her tongue, she was ravenous and she devoured the meal in short order. Meanwhile, her mother watched her, sipping iced tea.

“You look like hell. A good, Southern woman wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that.”

“Since you invaded my space, and I had no plans of being seen, I’ll risk it.” Miranda smiled sweetly.

“You missed dinner the other night.” Her mother switched tactics.

Miranda shot her a sharp glance. “You’re kidding right?”

Gwen folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips. “I know your father can be difficult.”

“Difficult?” Miranda burst out laughing. “He fired his daughter.”

“You resigned.”

“He didn’t stop me.” Miranda sighed. “We’ll get past it. Just not right now. I need some space from him, the team.”

“And Lucas?” The question was spoken softly.

Miranda waited for the familiar sharp stab of pain, but it was only a dull ache. Maybe she was getting better, getting over Lucas.

“Mom, what do you want?”

“Your father wants to speak to you. He needs you to do one more thing. Can you please help him, considering quitting was not exactly helpful to his health?” The words had a sharp edge to them.

Miranda narrowed her gaze. “What about me? He wasn’t nice to anyone at the office, especially his daughter.”

“I’ll go out to the car and get him. You may want to wash your face and comb your hair at least.” She cast a sour look around the messy living room. “You don’t have enough time to pick up, unfortunately.”

*

“I have nointerest in going back to the stadium, not for anything.” Miranda’s hands twisted in her lap.

Seamus sat on the chair, right next to her sweater tossed over the back of it. She glared at him but he gave her an innocent look. “I just need this one last thing from you. Only the president can do it.”

“Former president.”

“Fine. Former president. But I still need one. Then I’ll leave you alone.” He absently rubbed his chest and gave her a pathetic sigh.

Damn him. “I don’t have time for this.”

“What? No time for your dear old dad, who almost died a few months ago? I won’t be around forever you know. Besides you don’t have a job yet so why bother packing?”

“My condo is on the market and I already had several offers. I’ll probably need to be out in thirty days.”

“I hope you didn’t accept any offers. You might end up staying here.”