Page 79 of Billion-Dollar Attitudes

Amber

I crutched my way through my office, carrying an armload of papers. As I walked toward the filing cabinet, I hit my cast on the leg of the chair, sending shocking pain up through my knee and up to my hip. The papers slipped from my arm and cascaded onto the floor.

"Fucking hell," I growled.

The door to my office opened, and my secretary poked her head in. "You okay? Oh no. Let me help you."

I tried to bend over and pick up the papers, but instead, I found myself wobbling back and forth, falling into the chair. "I'm sorry. This stupid cast. They said I might have this thing on up to ten weeks. And then a damn boot. I'm going to go crazy."

Pam stacked the papers and opened the filing cabinet, putting them where they belonged. She sat down next to me and smiled. "This is where I can help you. I'm here to do these silly little things. Besides, you have more important things to focus on."

I glanced up at her. "Did I forget something?"

She shook her head. "Your father just sent you a message."

I pursed my lips and groaned. "He probably wants to insist on me keeping the bodyguards for another month. Between the cameras and the security system, I am fine. Besides, I could kick em in the crotch with my cast, and they won't be able to walk for years."

Pam chuckled. "Come on. Back to your desk."

"Can't I just live here now, in this chair?"

She chuckled. "No. Besides, those chairs are incredibly uncomfortable."

I nodded, hoisting myself up. "True. They are terrible. Keeps people from hanging out in my office."

Pam snickered, heading back to her desk. I sat down and sighed, dreading the messages from my father. I knew by that point they were probably interviewing for my father's replacement. I declined to be a part of that, knowing I would be far too hard on the candidates. I dreaded the day my father told me they had chosen someone.

The board didn't know that I had concocted a fake relationship. My father knew, but he lied and felt like he was partially to blame and knowing that if the board knew, it would make it impossible for me to get anything done in the future. He told them that the attack had been far too much for me. That I had decided to postpone the wedding and possibly not even get married. That would take their eyes off of me, and I wouldn't have to worry about making it a public spectacle. As for the media, we just let them come up with whatever stories they dreamed up. They all were careful, though, knowing I had been attacked. It wasn't like the media to go easy on us, but my father's influence played a part in that. I knew it.

I sucked up my pride and hit the message my father sent me. Immediately I was relieved to see it had nothing to do with the position being filled. "Amber, I am requesting your presence at dinner tonight. We know you've been through a lot, but we need to see you, and your mother is worried. There will be a car waiting for you when you are done with your day. It'll bring you over. Try to be there by six. Love, Dad."

The last thing I wanted was to sit in a room with them. I knew that my father wasn't angry at me. I knew he loved me, but lying to my father was a big deal. And I felt terrible for what I had done. Not to mention that my mother had zero filter, and I was not sure I could trust she wouldn't make a snide remark about it. Nonetheless, I had been avoiding it for weeks and knew I had no choice. My father knew by forcing me to leave right from work, I had little to argue over.

I went through the rest of my day, slightly bored since they had forced me onto light duty for another week before returning all my responsibilities. I knew they were caring and trying to make things easier on me, but I needed my mind to be busy. When it wasn't busy, it fell right back to Ryder. I didn't know how often I had to stop myself from calling him or texting. I didn't know how many times I had looked at my phone, hoping for a message from him. Every time I did and found nothing, my heart sank all over again.

When was it going to get easier?

Maybe it never would. Maybe I had the closest thing I would ever have to a normal relationship or love, and I had lost it.

Pam stuck her head in the door. "Are you about ready? The car is downstairs waiting for you."

"I was hoping if I ignored it, it wouldn't actually be there," I said with a smirk.

"I try that with my bills, but that never works either," she replied, smiling.

I turned my computer off and grabbed my things, hobbling from the office. Pam went down with me, carrying my bag, so I didn't stumble when dealing with my crutches. I wasn't sure what I would do without her. She had kept me literally on my feet instead of on my ass daily.

"How is Ryder?" she asked on the elevator down.

I cleared my throat. "Um, good, I think. I haven't spoken to Ryder recently."

In the reflection of the elevator doors, I could see her give me a double take and then nod. "Love is tough."

That's all she said, but she had no idea how right she was. In fact, it was an understatement. I tried my best to ignore my feelings for Ryder daily, but I cried myself to sleep almost every night, even a month later. I was starting to think that he had permanently ruined my heart. Or I had permanently ruined my own heart. In reality, he hadn't done anything wrong. I had put myself in that horrible predicament. And I had let myself fall for him even though I knew I shouldn't have.

The doors to the elevator slid open, and I hobbled out, heading for the exits. The driver met us there, taking my bag. I thanked Pam and climbed into the car, sighing in relief as I propped my foot up on the seat across from me. I reached around in my bag, found my Tylenol, and took two with a bottle of water in the small mini bar in the car. As I reached my hand back in my bag, knowing I had a brush somewhere, I paused, slowly pulling a partial hand full of sand back out. I had completely forgotten that I had taken that bag in the satchel on the bike to meet Ryder's family. I had thrown my flip-flops in my bag when we got back from the walk, putting my boots on for the ride home.

I shook my head and quickly dropped the sand back in, wiping my hands off. Tears threatened to overflow, and I closed my eyes, breathing deeply like my therapist had taught me to do in case of a panic attack. But this was no panic attack. This was sheer heartbreak, and I had yet to let myself entirely give into it despite all the tears. I didn't know if I was just torturing myself in limbo, knowing I would eventually heal once I let go and gave in to it. Or if I was holding out hope that my phone would ring or the doorbell would sound and it would be Ryder on the other end.

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