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Her head snaps up and her eyes meet mine.
“So we’re done then? This is it?” The anger is back and I’m thoroughly confused.
“Brontë, what the hell is this? I can’t keep up with it anymore. You either want me because I’m your dad’s best friend, I’m too old for you, I’m forbidden, or a dirty secret you can tell your friends about.”
“Is this about Venus?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I saw the headline.”
“What are you talking about?” My stomach tightens.
“My friends sent me an article that showed you two having dinner the other night. Apparently, she threw a drink in your face?”
Fuck.
I nod. “She did but no, this has nothing to do with her. She’s just a friend now, someone I’m helping out with something.”
She laughs, clearly not believing me.
“A friend? You must be doing one helluva job helping her if she threw water in your face.”
“Well, clearly, I’m being a really bad friend to a lot of people right now because I can’t seem to keep from pissing everyone off.”
Her anger subsides a little and I reach for her. “Brontë, I’m sorry about the desk thing. I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t mean to treat you like you meant nothing.”
“It’s fine,” she says, clearly not fine, “but why didn’t you tell him that I should be involved in that meeting with you, him, and the guys from Pierce? I’ve been the one doing all the heavy lifting with this acquisition. I found the fraud and it’s like you guys are acting like it’s a big boys’ club, like because I’m young and new, I can’t have any input in a meeting or conversation with them about it.”
I hang my head. Yup, I screwed up again.
“I just—I just wanted to get him out of the office, Brontë. I feel like I’m trying to juggle all this shit and it’s not working.”
“You know what’s really shitty about all this?” Her expression tells me I’m not going to like what she’s about to say. “You have no problem whipping out your dick for me to suck in your office, but you won’t stick your neck out for me for one single meeting where I can present what I found.”
She stares at me, then without another word she opens my office door and leaves.
Chapter 17
Brontë
I get that Beckham is confused because I am too.
I thought I wanted a fling, something totally out of my good girl comfort zone that would just be a summer fling or even a one-night stand. But here I am, crying on my couch over a man I have no business having feelings for while I scrape the bottom of a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
I toss the empty container on the coffee table and reach for my phone for what feels like the hundredth time. Still no texts or missed calls from him.
I contemplate calling Sylvia and having her come over so I can vent, but as a mom to a young child, she can’t just drop everything every time I get my heart broken or make bad life choices.
I could call Taylor. I know she’d be more than happy to listen to this hot mess of a situation I’ve gotten myself into but I decide against it. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed or just not ready to hear I told you so from my friends a bunch of times… not that they would shove it in my face but they’d tell me that I need to put my big girl panties on and move on. Something I’m not sure I’m ready to hear or do.
Instead, I send a text to Chantelle, the one person who actually knows what I’m going through and will offer me legitimate advice.
Me: Hey, any chance you’re free for lunch tomorrow? Could seriously use some advice.
She responds almost immediately.
Chantelle: Of course. I’ll meet you outside your office at noon.
