Page 114 of The Pocket Pair

Want to read about Val & Chevy’s time in Costa Rica? Grab a bonus scene (with lots of kissing and also monkeys) HERE.

But also keep reading for a bonus epilogue featuring Collin!!!

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BONUS EPILOGUE

Collin

When my office door slams behind Liza, I stay seated behind my desk, head in my hands. I should feel upset. Sad. Maybe I should chase after the woman who is now, officially, my ex-girlfriend and ex-employee. I bet Liza expects me to follow.

In fact, her footsteps clanging down the metal steps to the main gym floor are slow. Hesitant, like she’s waiting for me to yank open the door and beg her to reconsider. But there is no way I’m going after her, and by the time she reaches halfway, she’s stomping quickly.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Probably every person in the gym is looking. Drama—Liza’s favorite thing. And my least.

Despite the ugly conversation we just had and her current dramatic exit, I am relieved. No matter how much I defended Liza to my brothers and sister, she was unpleasant. At best. I can admit that now. She was not a great girlfriend, overly possessive and self-centered. Maybe she’s not a great person, period.

But I wanted her to be. Is it wrong to believe in people? To give them plenty of chances? Isn’t that what relationships are about: working hard, trusting the other person, giving it your all?

Maybe I know as little about relationships as I did back in junior high, when I asked Jordan Luckey to go out with me, then immediately tried to kiss her. For the record—that didn’t end well either. Though it did teach me an important lesson about consent.

My phone buzzes, and I pick it up. Even if it’s my most annoying brother. “Hey, Patty.”

“Ding, dong—the witch is dead! You finally did it!” he cries, loud enough I pull the phone away from my ear.

“Did what? And stop yelling.”

“Broke up with your terrible girlfriend!” he says at only a slightly softer volume.

I’m mid-eye roll when his words hit me. “Wait—how do you know we broke up?”

“She posted on her Instagram stories,” Pat says, his voice turning hard. “And believe me, it is not good stuff. Did you fire her too?”

“Fire her? No! She broke up with me and then quit when I didn’t beg her to take me back. How is she already posting? She literally walked out of my office not two minutes ago.”

“Dude,” Pat says. “She broke up with you? That’s … wow. Her video looked like she was in her car. Maybe she’s still in the parking lot. Check the security cameras.”

I open my laptop and click to the app, scanning until I find a camera pointed right toward her pink VW Beetle. And yep—she’s apparently still filming, gesturing wildly and holding her phone a few inches from her face. She pauses for a few moments to reapply lip gloss and practice smiling at herself.

I scoff. “Yep. She’s in the parking lot, still going.”

“You might want to do something,” Pat says. “She stopped just short of claiming sexual harassment.”

That has me freezing in place. False claims of harassment or assault make me madder than most things in the world. Because I know legitimate claims are underreported, and any time there is a proven false claim, it undermines the real victims.

“I can send security out, but that might make it worse,” I tell Pat.

“Make sure you save any video footage you might have. Just in case she actually tries something legal.”

Worry replaces the relief I felt moments ago. I move to the window overlooking the gym that is pretty much my life. A large portion of my savings went into this business, and every member of my family has a little something invested. My sister Harper and her husband both work here as trainers. The last thing I want is to see our good reputation ruined because Liza didn’t get her way. Thank goodness I do have cameras everywhere, including my office.

It will be fine. It’ll blow over. Won’t it?

“I should go,” I say.

“Let me know when you want me to set you up with someone,” Pat says.

I make a face, even though he can’t see it. “Pass. The last thing I need is to hop into another relationship doomed to fail.”

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