Page 116 of The Billionaire Is Back

“What?”

She mumbles something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“Lobster food,” she says sheepishly.

“Lobster food. For Damien’s lobsters?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. He usually feeds them pellets, but he wanted to give them shrimp leading up to the race. He asked me to bring it to him at the beach afterwork. He’s the worst—I just hate that he’s been wasting his talent lately when I know how amazing he can be. It drives me nuts!” She sighs. “I will go back to pretending he doesn’t exist as soon as the Shellibration is over, but enough about me. I’m ordering the ingredients right now, and you will have them in two days. Right? That’s enough time. Do I order double what you need for the actual event? Did you text me the list? Never mind—I’ll find it. Hang on. I got this.”

And now I’m sobbing uncontrollably.

Because I really am going to die alone.

I’ve pushed away my boyfriend, and now I’m going to have to fire my BFF because she’s the worst assistant in the history of bakeries and any other industry, probably.

I cover my face. Everything was going so well, and now my whole entire life is falling apart! I’m a monster! I’m a monster who breaks up with billionaires just because they care more about building empires than being with me and fires besties simply because they don’t do what I need them to do even though I’m paying them and can barely afford it.

I feel Vera climbing into the booth next to me, enveloping me in a comforting hug. “Oh, honey, come on. It’ll all be okay, I promise. We can pay extra for a rush order. It’ll be fine.”

I squeeze her tight. “No! It won’t!”

She smooths down my hair at the back of my head. “Shhh, shhh, shhhh. I’ll take care of it.”

“No!” I wail into her neck. “You won’t. You’refiiiiiiiired!” I somehow manage to turnfiredinto an epically tragic six-syllable word. “I have tofiiiiiiiiireyou!”

“What?” She doesn’t pull away when she asks, “Did you just say I’m fired?”

After a few attempts at catching my breath through snot-filled weepy hiccups, I continue. “Yeeeeeesssss.I’msooooosorryyyyyyy. But you’reawwwwfullll! You’re a terrible, horrible assistant, and I have to hire someone who can actually helpmeeeeeee!”

She holds me closer. “Oh my God. Claire!”

“I’msooorrrrryyyyyy!!! Please don’t hatemeeee.”

“Honey, I don’t hate you. I am so proud of you for finally firing me. I’m the worst assistant ever!”

“You are! I love you so much, but you’re so bad!”

“Oh, I know! I’m so bad, but I love you so much, I just wanted to help you! I’ve been waiting for you to nut up and can me for, like, two years!”

I finally pull away from her, wiping my nose with my sleeve. “Huh?”

Vera grabs another napkin and hands it to me. “Here. Blow.”

I do. I empty about five gallons of snot into the napkin and then ask again, “What are you saying? You don’t want to work for me?”

“Oh, God, no! I mean, I love hanging out with you because you’re my Claire Bear and I want you to be successful. But it’s not exactly a great fit for me.”

“But-but-but-but what’ll you do now?”

She waves her hand dismissively. We both face forward, sitting side by side. “I’ll figure something out. It’s not something you need to worry about. I don’t need the money.”

“What?”

“Remember when my grandma died?”

I sniffle. “A couple of years ago?”

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