Page 620 of Manhattan Bossholes

The door slammed behind him. I went in search of Tyler, finding him perched on the edge of his couch, like he was ready to jump up and run out of the room if I pushed him too hard.

I was furious, but also gutted because I’d wanted so badly to believe Tyler was past all of this. But apparently, getting caught up in Felicity wasn’t the only way I’d been fooling myself.

“Why?” It was all I could muster up, because if I said anything else I might regret it.

“It’s stupid.” Tyler dropped his head into his hands. “He’s my last connection to her.”

I sighed when I figured out what he meant. “You’re hanging around that loser because he reminds you of being with Roxanne?”

“Yeah,” Tyler yelled back at me, his body going tense. “I am! All I have left of that time is memories, and being with Jerry brings it back. We can laugh about the good times, how much fun we had. For a little while I can forget about what a pile of shit my life is now. No career, no Roxanne…yeah, I need help to feel good these days, and Jerry makes that happen for me.”

“Jerry’s drugs make that happen,” I corrected angrily.

“And?”

My jaw clenched as we stared at each other.

“Just leave,” Tyler said in a defeated voice as he sank back against the couch. “I know you’re disgusted with me, so get out of here. I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures.”

I shook my head angrily. “Fuck that. I’m staying to clean up, and to force you to take a break. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Whatever.”

I got up and started cleaning the trash from around the place, keeping an eye on Tyler. He seemed exhausted, and I watched the tension slowly leave his body. Before long, he’d collapsed on his side, fast asleep.

It didn’t matter that I was wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit. I took off my blazer, rolled up my sleeves, and got down on my hands and knees to clean up the grime from his floor. I stacked up his mail, scrubbed down his counters, and tossed out the spoiled food in his refrigerator. It felt like therapy for me because staying busy kept me from thinking about the state of my own life. I had a job to do with an identifiable endpoint: when Tyler’s trashed apartment started to look presentable again. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to clean anything, and I was surprised to discover the hands-on work felt good. I could only hope that when he woke up maybe he’d see his tidy place and decide his world could use an overhaul as well.

After about an hour, I admitted to myself that I was procrastinating. The place looked better than it had in ages, Tyler was sleeping off his high, and there was nothing more I could do for him in the moment. I set up a food delivery of chicken soup and crusty bread from Jean-Georges for a few hours later and left, reluctantly.

On the way back to my place, I stupidly checked the Veritique alerts and felt my blood pressure rise. Just when things were on a good track, I had to go and blow up. It was going to take a while before things evened out again.

I assumed we’d take care of the PR crisis somehow, but the Felicity aspect? There was no coming back from that. The way she looked at me as I ended things nearly made me change my mind. But, of course, I didn’t, because there was no way we could’ve made our relationship work out long term. Between my history and Tyler’s, I had more than enough proof that relationships were doomed to end in disaster.

I stalked into my building with frustration and anger swirling inside of me once again. I wouldn’t admit to the other sensation, deep in my gut.

I didn’t do sadness.

“Hey Cameron,” Carl said with a quick salute.

“Carl,” I nodded back at him.

Carl was good at many things, and reading the room was a big one, so instead of trying to start our usual sports and weather chat, he opted to busy himself on the computer behind his desk. I smashed the elevator button and waited with my head down because my phone wasn’t the sort of distraction I wanted. I heard heels clicking across the lobby toward me and hoped that whoever it was would divert to the mailroom, because I was in no mood to make pleasant small talk on the ride up to my penthouse.

“Well, hey there, Cameron!”

Damn it.

Nina.

I scanned her quickly to determine how much she knew about what had gone down earlier in the day. Based on her cheerful expression and friendly smile, she didn’t know a thing.

“Hello,” I answered with a tight smile.

“Hey folks?” Carl called from across the lobby. “One elevator is out of service and the other is running slow, so the wait might be longer than usual.”

Great.

“So, what’s new in your world?” Nina bubbled at me. “How’s CamLicity doing today?”