Page 85 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

“Maybe we can play a game together in about an hour.”

Madison didn’t even acknowledge me. I swallowed down the hard lump in my throat. It dropped into my stomach like a weight.

After our fight last week where we’d ended our personal relationship, I’d wrestled with how I was going to hire another nanny in the middle of this crisis, assuming Madison would immediately leave. So I’d sucked it up and asked her to stick around. She’d grudgingly said yes. For Kenna. I was thankful, but it was damn painful having her so close yet so far.

The rational part of my brain appreciated that. The messy, confused, irrational part of me hated that we were no longer together. Sometimes it felt like handling childcare on my own would be easier than constantly fighting against my own instincts. I couldn’t simply reach for her in the mornings. I couldn’t wrap my arms around her, chin on the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

I couldn’t tease out a bubbly smile or fix her a cup of coffee—with way too much sugar, just the way she liked it—in the morning before Kenna woke up. I couldn’t look forward to evenings tucked away in the library, talking about the places she wanted to travel to or the companies I wanted to invest in. The bed next to me was always empty, always cold.

It was simply over, and a hollow ache throbbed every time I looked at her. Even though I knew it was for the best. My focus needed to be on protecting Kenna and myself. If Madison wasn’t willing to understand that, then there was no room for her in my life. I had to do what made sense in this situation—close the circle, walls up, trust no one. No more spilling my guts. No more vulnerabilities. No more pain points the media could exploit.

No more Madison.

I stepped into my office, closing the door to the playroom, desperate to sink into work and block out everything else. Was it horrible that I was literally praying for some even worse news to break out to redirect the nation’s attention? Hell, I’d pay good money for another scandal to come along right about now.

My laptop rang as a video call came through from Alfie. I answered it.

“Hey, boss,” he said. “All right?”

I knew he wasn’t really expecting me to answer that, so I simply grunted. If nothing else, at least business was going reasonably well. People still wanted my money. “What’s on the agenda this week?”

“Meetings and more meetings,” Alfie quipped. “You said you wanted to stay busy, so I’ve loaded you up. I’ll send the calendar through after this call. Also, Brian Marsh has reached back out to chat.”

I perked up in my chair. “The American with the travel app?” After we’d touched base in London at breakfast, we’d had an initial call. I’d told him what I could offer, and he’d gone away to consider things.

Alfie nodded. “He wants to proceed with your investment terms.”

“Okay, great,” I said, relieved to have a bit of positive news.

“You want me to do some more digging into the start-up before we proceed?” Alfie asked.

“Nah,” I said. “Let’s get the paperwork drawn up.”

“You’re sure, boss? You usually like to do your due diligence⁠—”

“What I’d like to do is watch the Voyages board start shaking in their boots when Destination comes online.” I leaned back in my chair, imagining it now. Wouldn’t it just be grand to watch Voyages topple under the weight of a bigger and better travel platform? If Destination succeeded, it would be a direct competitor. And now that I was coming on board as an investor, I was going to do everything in my power to make sure it did succeed. See them call me a liability then.

“I’m just saying,” Alfie cut in, “they’re asking for a pretty hefty investment, and we don’t even know if their developers are legit or⁠—”

I frowned. Alfie never second-guessed me. Yes, I was jumping over steps, but this was exactly the type of win I needed right now. If I couldn’t get rid of the damn paparazzi, I could at least show the Voyages board what they lost out on by getting rid of me. “I’ve made my decision.”

Alfie adjusted his glasses, regarding me with what looked like disappointment before he masked it. “…Okay, then. I’ll start pulling together the paperwork.”

I nodded. “Book me a call with Brian sometime tomorrow. I want to discuss the details.”

“Will do, boss.” Alfie nodded. “Talk later.”

Twenty minutes later, I was reading the Destination project overview again, refamiliarizing myself with the notes before my follow-up call with Brian tomorrow. A knock on my door broke my concentration. “Not now, sweetheart,” I called.

The door popped open. It wasn’t Kenna.

“You’ve never called me sweetheart before,” Locke quipped. “But I don’t hate it.”

I blinked in surprise as he and Weston walked into my office. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you sneak past the paps?”

“We needed a proof of life,” Locke said.

“We wanted to check on you in person,” Weston added. “And there was no sneaking. It’s not like they don’t know who we are. We simply didn’t engage.”