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“Oh. My. God.”
“I know, right?”
“That is the sappiest thing I have ever heard.”
She giggles and nods. “And I love it. He’s a big romantic.”
Wonder what that’s like. Last night was not exactly the stuff fairytale romances were made of. What am I thinking? I do not want a fairytale romance. Especially not with Anderson. Never him.
Love is a minefield as it is, and fairytale romances never appealed to me, even as a girl. The reason they always ended once the prince, and the girl got married was because, “Happily Ever After,” was easier to write than, “Over the years, he grew to hate how loudly she chewed, and she loathed that he left his socks on the floor.” Fairytales are not real life.
But the googly eyes Callie has when she speaks about Daniel are real enough. I’m worried her fairytale romance will end in tears.
So, I give a simple, “I’m happy for you, hon.”
Chapter 16
JUNE
Wednesday came and went without a payday, and by Thursday, I am freaking out to Callie at lunch. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. This always happens.”
“You knew what?”
“No money from the weekend.”
Her eyes widen. “Well, maybe it’s?—"
“No. This is some cosmic punishment for doing what I did. I never do anything wrong. I am a rule follower. When I was a kid and I saw a friend cheating on a test, do you know what I did?”
“What?”
“I turned them in and lost a friend. And do you know why?”
She sighs. “Why?”
“Because the rules are in place for a reason. Or well … that’s what I was raised to believe. I don’t cheat. I don’t lie. Most of the time, anyway. And I don’t, under any circumstances,” I lean over the table and whisper, “have sex for money. I am being punished for what I did. I know I am. It always happens like this. I do the slightest thing out of line, and boom. Instant punishment.”
Callie smiles her “You’re being silly” smile, and I want to growl at her for it. “There are a million reasons the money might not be there just yet. You are overreacting.”
“I am not overreacting. That money is earmarked for my future, Cal. A beautiful future, where I’m happy and fulfilled and relaxed. Right now, it is the only reason I haven’t lost my mind at work. Can you honestly tell me you plan to sit in the office for the next twenty-eight years pushing papers?”
“Well, no, but?—"
“And that’s because you have the money to do something else. Money is freedom, and without it, you’re stuck suffocating on the boot heel of bitches like Madi for decades. I can’t. I won’t. That cannot happen. I will lose my mind. I?—"
“Breathe. You’re turning colors.”
I close my eyes and try to force a deep breath, but it hurts. My chest is so tight that I can’t do it. It’s been like that all week, though a part of that is probably from how sore I was over the weekend. Who knew hours and hours of sex were such a workout? “I’m trying to breathe.”
“Good. This isn’t over, June. You can contact the auction house for information.”
“Okay, yeah, but it’s not like I can take them to court over this, since what I did is not legal.”
“Right, but like Cesar said, there are other ways to enforce a contract.”
My brows bunch together in confusion. “How could I do anything socially to hurt the Chamberlain mansion?”
“Old buildings are highly flammable.”
