Page 10 of Vow

That was a fucking joke.

Haven didn’t expect that her girls were going to be happy about the things she had to say, but she was prepared for their anger. That was something. Something was better than nothing at all.

Taking a seat on one of the barstools, Haven turned to face the waiting girls who had scattered themselves in various seats around the club. She didn’t even bother to wait for anyone to ask her questions, she simply started talking.

Better to get it all out, then to try and explain while people asked questions, she supposed.

“As you may have noticed—or heard, if you weren’t working that night—there was a realtor who came in to take pictures of the club, and I am sure many of you have noticed the sign out front. The club was put on the market the day after the realtor came here.”

One of the girls opened her mouth to speak, but Haven lifted a hand to quiet her, saying, “Let me finish, please. Selling Safe Haven is the very last thing I ever wanted to do—this club is where I grew up, even if it did look a little bit different then than how it does now. Point is, I love this place, and it’s as much my home as it is yours in ways. But that’s the thing about life, right. We don’t always get what we want, and sometimes, things are just out of our control.”

Haven glanced down at her hands, but kept speaking. “I am not selling the club because it’s failing. I am not selling it because I’m tired, or because I don’t want it anymore. I am selling it because I have other important responsibilities to take care of, and I won’t be here anymore to handle this business. And I don’t want to manage it from afar—I don’t want to hope that whoever I let manage the club doesn’t run it to the ground with me still attached to it, regardless of how far away I am while it happens.

“My mother is sick,” Haven said, refusing to go into more details in that regard, “and so, I need to be where I am needed. I know you may feel like I am leaving you all hanging, or that I don’t care about what happens to you after I leave, but that’s not the case. The details of the sale will be clear to the buyer—the club is to remain as it is, with the same name, and the same business. You will all still have employment as long as you continue to act like the employees I hired. Jackson will remain here, too, because this is what he loves doing. But beyond that, there is nothing more I can do. And I am sorry. Any questions?”

Haven waited a minute, and then two. The girls were quiet, but she expected that. She figured they were trying to absorb the information she gave them, and how they wanted to deal with it, or respond.

They were all adults.

Sure, this felt like a little family at times. She looked out for the girls, just like the security, and even Jackson. They looked out for her, too. This club was her happy place, in a way. And she hated to give it up … but what choice did she have?

For her mom, she needed to go.

For herself, she needed time.

“I hope your mom gets well soon,” one of the girls finally said.

Haven found the one in question, and smiled. “Yeah, me, too.”

Slowly, the same sort of condolences trickled in. A few of the ladies had questions, and Haven tried to answer them all as best she could. The meeting lasted maybe an hour or so, and then once everyone was satisfied, she said her goodbyes.

Today was her day off.

One of the very few.

Every single time she left the club now, she got the strangest feeling in her chest. It was as though a heavy weight came to sit there, and make itself at home. Like her mind and body’s way of reminding her over and over again that she was saying goodbye.

And soon, that goodbye would be permanent.

Unlike her house, she didn’t expect Safe Haven to stay on the market long. Already, with only a few days being listed, she’d gotten three offers. All were lower than her sale price, but she knew what that meant. Someone else might bite at a quick sale, but if she chose to wait for the right one, her sale price was going to be well worth the effort and time.

She’d just stepped out of the club, and felt the cold air bite against her skin, when an ambulance blew down her street. Sirens raging, and lights blazing. Two cop cars followed right after.

Haven tightened her coat, and watched them go.

Her first thought was Andino, even though she had no reason to assume that. Yet, every time she saw one now … she thought of him. She did watch the news in her office, after all, and it seemed that organized crime in New York was getting a hell of a lot of attention.

Apparently, the streets were dangerous.

So yeah, she thought of him.

And right then, she just felt cold.

• • •

Haven dropped her bag to the floor beside the kitchen island, and kicked off her shoes right at the same spot. She didn’t see the point in taking them off at the door anymore—even the fucking welcome mat was gone, now. Her gaze drifted between the bottle of whiskey she’d left on the counter from the night before, or the instant coffee jar tucked into the corner beside the electric kettle and the fridge.

A good shot of whiskey was needed after an evening like the one she just had. Not that the employees at her club had been bad, or even awful about the sale. They hadn’t. Far from it, really. Although sad with the fact she would no longer be their boss, they were understanding of her position and why she chose to do what she did.