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I whirled on her. “Are you serious? Just like that?”
“As if I didn’t give you any warning? Yeah, I’d say just like that. And you’d be smart to do the same.”
I schooled my reaction with a long, slow breath. Nothing I said now could have changed her mind. If I said anything, it was just going to cement her resolve. Slowly, I turned back to María’s door. “So, when are you leaving?” I said coolly. She pursed her lips.
“I’m still waiting to hear back. Hell, I don’t even know if she’ll want to go forward with it. But if I get an offer? Two weeks from then. I’m not an asshole, I’m at least going to give notice.”
I sighed, sinking back against the wall. It was a cold feeling—wondering what it would be like without Ruth in the building, constantly coming into my office to complain about her latest clients, to ask advice. She’d been there for me when my last relationship had ended, too—had let me come over and stay at her place and sit on the couch disassociating and watching Netflix, and she’d given me space to talk about why I felt so empty instead of hurt or sad. She’d even fed Earl for me. When she’d gotten in a car accident, I’d driven her to and from work until her car was back from the shop, and I’d gotten her takeout until her sprained wrists were healed enough to cook again.
But that was just life, the world. People drifted in and out, crossing through each other’s spheres. The cool, distant sensation I got at people leaving, that was a strength, not a weakness. An acceptance of the impermanence of all things. At least, it had been with my ex-girlfriend—waking up single was like waking up to find my walls were tan instead of eggshell. Different, but not in a way that mattered. Background noise I was used to after a day or two. Ruth leaving would be the same.
“Good luck,” I said finally, my voice soft. “We’re still friends. You can still hit me up if you need anything. Even if it’s just to complain.”
The relieved smile on her face spoke volumes. “Thanks. Same goes to you, too, you know. Do you really not want me to find you something?”
I folded my hands. “I’ll be okay. Queen Pearl is going to be fine.”
She clapped a hand on my shoulder just as I heard movement from inside María’s office. “Well,” she said, “you let me know if you ever need someone to feed the little prince.”
“Thanks. Might take you up on that. Been out of the house more often lately.”
“Mm. Charming that client of yours?”
“Trying to, at least. She’s pretty intimidating.”
The door opened, and María shot me a look. “Well, look who’s come in today,” she said. “Enjoyed your day in the sun?”
“I wasn’t just sprawled out on the beach, you know,” I said, conveniently leaving out what I had been doing yesterday. It wasn’t like I could protest that I’d actually been working.
“Well, come in,” she said, stepping back from the doorway. Ruth nodded, turning away.
“Catch you later, London. Good luck with the prep.”
María gave me a loaded look as I came into the room and sat down, watching me quietly as she closed the door and walked over to her side of the desk, sitting slowly, tenting her hands on the old mahogany desk. Finally, she narrowed her eyes just a fraction. “Everything okay with Mercier?”
I had to fight back the blush. The memory of last night—I’d taken her out for dinner, and we’d walked side-by-side through the shopping center, just taking in the lights, the sounds, the action. And once it was dark, I found myself back in her North Beach apartment, my heart pounding as she took her own clothes off me, stripping me down to the set I’d seen her eyeing on me all day long.
She’d kissed every inch of me and taken pictures of me in every pose, and I was starting to feel like an honest-to-god lingerie model even before she switched me out for another set, and then another, and then another. The way she looked at me after each one like I was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen…
I’d been aching for it for hours by the time she took me to bed, but something about it—the slow, gentle, adoring way she took me, the caresses and the soft kisses and the touches—it felt different in a way that gave me anxious thrumming.
But for right now—that definitely did not happen.
“Going very well,” I said. “Surprisingly not too hard a client to work with. She’s been quite straightforward with what she wants.”
She gave me a skeptical look. “So… you think you can close her.”
“Well—of course. That’s why you put me on the job.”
She made a noncommittal noise, going back to the papers on her desk. I frowned, an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I sat forward in my chair.
“Do you not think I can do it?”
“I think… that if anyone can, then it’s you,” she said, avoiding looking at me. I swallowed.
“But you don’t think anyone can.”
She sighed, pushing away from her desk, turning to the window. “My insider contacts have told me she’s really not looking to buy. Just to browse.”
