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For making it this far.
For having a present.
A future.
Yet Brynley is the one to thank for teaching me to live in the present.
And being able to envision a future.
Penny took that away from me.
She also took Lauren away.
For those choices she has to be punished.
She will be punished.
“I cannot let Penny get away with all the damage she’s caused to this estate. To my company. To me.” Tossing my cell on the nearby end table precedes a heavy, dark exhale. “I. Won’t.”
“I understand,” Clark rushes to agree, fear flickering unarguably in his complexion, “but I am begging you to show her mercy, Weston.” Tears touch the rims of his lids. “I don’t want to have to bury my daughter because I failed her…again.”
“You didn’t fail her,” Lauren sweetly insists, summoning his attention. “You did what you could. And even now, you’re still doing what you can.” Their eyes lock and I have to stomp down the knot of sadness in my throat. “That’s what real parents do.”
“You don’t hate her for what she did to you?” Bewilderment waltzes through my tone, “For what she believed she was doing on Clark’s behalf?”
“No. I hate her for what she’s done to you.” There’s a sympathetic smile. “And Bryn.”
I can’t stop myself from flying to the end of my seat when I hear her name. “Is she okay?” Anxiousness has my gaze desperately searching hers for extra answers. “Is she gonna be okay?” Pain pierces my mixed colored glare. “Is she gonna hate me forever? For the things I said? The pain I caused you both?”
“She hates Seinfeld and bubble gum flavored ice cream.” Lauren’s smirk is sweeter than I deserve. “Not you.”
Longing to believe her…to believe I haven’t lost the only person I can see myself spending my life with leads me to whisper, “Does she still love me?”
Her head tilts affectionally to one side at the same time she states, “I think that’s something you’re going to have to ask her yourself.”
Chapter 26
Brynley
My first week of training?
Obnoxiously easy.
Made even more obnoxious by the delivery of a red rose and wordsearch booklet – with the phrase “I miss you” circled in it – around my lunch break each day.
Both items met the breakroom garbage.
And both items helped get me recognized as well as branded pretty quickly as the chick from the billionaire photo which made week two of training obnoxiously uncomfortable.
Because now instead of just being the new girl with great tits, I’m the new girl with a billionaire boyfriend – despite being broken up – who probably paid for her tits.
And he didn’t!
They’re a hundred percent real!
Which is not something I can just yell at the top of my lungs due to sexual harassment clauses in the handbook.
The handbook I actually read.
