Page 301 of Manhattan Bossholes

“But that’s what it became anyway,” Vincent said. “And you’ve got real feelings for the girl. I’ve been there, too, man. My relationship with Piper wasn’t supposed to be real, either. So take it from me. The biggest mistake would be turning your back on the best relationship we’ve ever seen you in.”

I looked over at Dominic. He’d been unusually quiet. I’d expected him of all people to be on my side. He’d had a relationship fall apart disastrously, complete with a messy divorce and a protracted custody battle with a toxic ex. He should understand that sometimes the person you loved, the one you envisioned spending the rest of your life with, could let you down in the most horrible of ways. “Well?” I said. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Dominic cleared his throat. “I think they’re right, Trent. You need to hear her out, get her side of things.”

I scoffed. I couldn’t believe it. “You can’t be serious.”

“If you don’t get her side of the story, you’ll always wonder what really happened,” Dominic said. “And not knowing is worse. Trust me. Maybe it won’t work out for you two in the end, but this argument will hang over you forever unless you get closure. Do that, and then you can move on.”

I fought off a shiver at the thought of moving on. I’d never cared for any woman the way I cared for Natasha. Even knowing what I did and feeling the way I felt, my heart still beat for her, and it was rebelling at the thought of letting her go. But that was what I needed to do. She’d proven today that I couldn’t trust her and that what I had to offer her—myself—wasn’t enough to earn her loyalty in return. Love was transactional, and in this transaction, I’d lost.

“Seriously, dude,” Aiden started up again as my phone rang. “Take our advice.”

I ignored him, pulling my phone out, some traitorous part of my heart skipping at the thought that it might be Natasha. Instead, Sofia’s name flashed across the screen. “Hello?”

My pulse throbbed in my ears hearing her panicked voice on the other end of the line.

“What is it?” Vincent hissed.

I looked at the guys, the blood draining from my face. “Dee’s collapsed!”

23

NATASHA

There was something about loud music and power tools that really helped with the whole being-dumped-and-fired-all-in-one-go thing. The combination drowned Trent’s accusations from my thoughts as my focus narrowed to the jigsaw cutting through wood. The workshop was my happy place. Besides, who needed feelings when you held that kind of power in your hands?

Sold him out, my ass!

God! I worked hard for every single thing I had, even when that meant juggling three part-time jobs. As if I’d accept money from his mother of all people to stab him in the back! As if I’d ever do that to anyone, much less someone I—well, someone I cared for as much as I’d cared for him.

My hand tightened around the jigsaw, the vibrations shooting up my arm as my teeth clenched. I couldn’t believe him! I couldn’t believe this was my life. I stopped the jigsaw, staring down at the work-in-progress bookcase that was destined for Nana Dee. Or, at least, it had been. I had no idea if Trent even still wanted me to complete this furniture order, despite how much Dee might want it. Frankly, there was a big part of me that wanted to abandon the project altogether. But I didn’t want to be accused of taking more money or materials or handouts from this family, so it was probably best I finished the order. I could arrange for an outside company to transport it to Dee’s, and then I’d never have to have anything to do with the Saunders family again.

My heart beat uncomfortably in my chest, echoing the thump of the bass. The thought of letting them go—Trent and Dee and this future I’d started to envision for myself—sucked more than I wanted to admit. I’d set myself up to get hurt, and there was no one to blame except myself. But I’d been through this kind of heartbreak before and had managed to pick myself up. I could do it again. I didn’t need Trent. I was fine on my own.

Right?

Something cut through the sound of the bass, and I realized my phone was ringing. My first thought was that it might be Trent, and my heart lurched with a sliver of hope before I could remind myself that he’d told me he never wanted to see me again.

I turned the volume down on the music and crossed through my workshop to grab my phone, frowning at the caller ID.

“Hi, Jimmy?” I said, confusion bleeding through me. Why the hell would Trent’s little brother be calling me? Unless he wanted to curse me out like Trent had. I winced, half expecting him to launch into a tirade. I really wasn’t in the mood to be berated by another Saunders today.

“Natasha?” a trembling voice replied. “Hey, uh…hi. Do you think you can come get me?”

Okay, what? That sounded like a horrible idea. And get him from where? What was going on? “I don’t know if that’s⁠—”

“P-please,” he stammered, sounding incredibly upset.

I started getting worried. Why was Jimmy crying in the middle of a weekday afternoon? “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Please come get me,” he straight-up begged.

I rubbed at my forehead. “Jimmy, what’s going on?”

“I was trying to get into the city,” he said, talking a mile a minute, “and I hitched a ride as far as…Fuck, where am I? I don’t even know…Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” He took a ragged breath. “Natasha⁠—”

“Okay,” I said, deciding this wasn’t the time to get answers. He wasn’t making any sense and obviously getting more upset by the second. I still wasn’t sure what had him so worked up, but it was clear that trying to get information from him right now was only making things worse. “Just breathe.”