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I rubbed my forehead again. Fuck. No, I wasn’t, but as much as I loved my parents, I needed to grow up and acknowledge that they were the type of people who only valued what I could give them. I would never get the validation from them I so desperately wanted.
So, you’ll let your mother die of cancer, then?
No, of course, I wouldn’t, but I also couldn’t be solely responsible for paying their living expenses. My dad would find another job once Mom was out of the hospital. He had to. In the meantime, I would wear a stupid lobster hat and serve other people their food.
It’s a lot easier just to spread your legs for someone at the agency and be their good girl.
I shuddered. Just thinking of being with someone else repulsed me. I’d emailed the sisters on Saturday night and ended my contract with them, then ignored Celeste's texts and Catherine's phone calls.
Despite how much Deacon hated me now, I still saw myself as his good girl.
Even if he never would.
* * *
Deacon
I stopped in the hallway, staring furtively into the alcove that housed Riley’s desk. She sat at her desk, staring at her monitor as she typed rapidly. She stopped typing, frowned at her screen, and then sighed and sat back in her chair.
She took off her glasses and rubbed delicately at the skin below her eyes before rubbing her forehead. Her hair, usually straightened when at the office, was a curly mass on top of her head, and even from here, I could see how raw her bottom lip was. She looked exhausted. Hell, she looked worse than I did, and I looked like a fucking walking disaster.
I scrubbed a hand across my jaw. I hadn’t shaved this morning nor bothered with a suit jacket or a tie. What was the fucking point? It’s not like I’d be fired for not adhering to the dress code. At this point, I just wanted to finish the year end, tell Richard he was the new CFO, and get the fuck out of this office.
Riley and I had been walking on eggshells around each other for the last two weeks, which was unbelievably draining. I went home every night feeling like I’d been through a hurricane. I could hardly concentrate on my job, and it pissed me off. I’d made some stupid mistakes in the last few days, and if it hadn’t been for Richard catching them, we would have been seriously fucked.
I couldn’t get Riley out of my goddamn head, and seeing her every day certainly didn’t fucking help. It would have been easier if I hated her, but despite everything, I still loved her. Still wanted her. Still needed her to be my good girl.
That’s done. You need to move on.
Yeah, move on… no problem. Easy fucking peasy.
I cleared my throat as I walked toward her desk. She sat up straight and smiled hesitantly. “How was your lunch, Mr. Cross?”
“Fine,” I said. “Did Richard email you the spreadsheet?”
“He did,” she said. “I’m almost finished.”
“Email it when you’re done.”
“I will,” she said. “Mr. Wright was hoping to meet with you at three this afternoon. You have a meeting with Richard and Cara, but they could meet at two-thirty instead of three if that works for you.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
“Okay, I’ll change your calendar,” she said. She gave me another tentative smile, but it faded quickly when I stared coolly at her.
Stop being an asshole! She’s suffering just as much as you are.
Was she? She looked like she was, but I couldn’t trust my instincts regarding Riley.
Her voice hoarse, Riley said, “Deacon?”
I stared at her. “What is it?”
She chewed savagely on her bottom lip, and I had to clench my hands into fists to stop from tugging that sore bottom lip out from her teeth. “Stop biting your lip, Riley.”
She released it and swiped away the blood welling on her lip. “I just wanted to say that -”
“No,” I said. “If it isn’t work related, don’t bother.”
