Page 100 of The Boyfriend Experience

She ends the call and I spy a remote on Jordan’s desk, so I grab it and turn the TV on, navigate to Channel Five, and see Hanna Harlow’s face on the screen.

The little banner at the bottom says, Buffalo Brews releases special-edition beer for festival this weekend.

And then I hear the name of her beer.

Which is the name of my beer.

And that’s it. I can’t help it. I give up. I can’t win.

She stole my secret Assassin Sour Saison and this time she didn’t even bother changing the label or the name.

She just stole my beer and announced it to the world as hers.

I look around the room, unable to focus on anything. And just say, “I gotta go,” as I turn and walk out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - LAWTON

Oaklee walks out. She’s like March—came in like a lion and went out like a lamb.

I look over at Jordan, who’s frowning. “Follow her,” he says. And then his phone buzzes and Eileen says, “Oliver Shrike is on line three for you, Jordan.”

“Thanks, Eileen.” Then he looks at me, surprised I’m still in his office, and says, “Go fucking follow her!”

I nod, turn, and leave.

She’s waiting at the elevator when I get out in the reception lobby. Her arms crossed at her chest. Her head tilted up as she stares at the electronic sign above the door, waiting for it to ding.

“Oaklee—”

“Just… not now, OK?” She doesn’t look at me.

Jordan’s father walks up between us. Leans forward to push the button, even though it’s already lit. And then he and I meet eyes.

The elevator dings, the doors open, and Oaklee walks in. Wells Senior and I follow, each standing on either side of her. Oaklee pushes the button for the lobby, Wells pushes floor seven. Then the doors close and the three of us stand there in awkward silence.

Wells clears his throat. “You know, my wife and I went through a rough patch when Jordan was a teenager. He…” Wells laughs. Like he’s reliving a memory of his son and it makes him happy. “He was a handful, that kid. Still is. But he’s turned into a good man.”

Oaklee and I both turn our heads to look at the tall, well-dressed older man. Our eyes meet and then we turn away.

“But if you love someone, sometimes the fight is worth it.”

The elevator dings floor seven and the doors open. Wells steps out, then turns back to us, his hand pressed against the door, holding it open. “Only the two of you know if the fight is worth it. But in my experience, more often than not, people are worth fighting for.”

Then he smiles at us, turns away, and walks off.

The doors close and both Oaklee and I sigh as we descend to the lobby.

When we get out of the elevator and start walking for the door, I take her arm, gently, and make her stop. “Look, I’m sorry, OK? Can I come back to your place so we and figure this out?”

She’s still upset. Her eyes are glistening with tears. But she nods and says, “Your house. I don’t know how Hanna got all this information, but I can only assume she’s bugged my apartment. And there’s no way I’ve giving her another private moment of my life. So I’m not going home. Ever again until I can call in a specialist to search it.”

She walks off to wherever she parked her car. I watch her until she slips around a corner. And then I walk off in the opposite direction.

When I pull into my garage, Oaklee is waiting for me, her car probably parked in her own lot down the alley. She leans up against a thick concrete pillar looking defeated and sad.

I get out, walk over to her, and take her hand. She starts crying again. So I pull her close, hug her tight, and say, “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

Oaklee shakes her head no. Because she doesn’t believe me. I’ve fucked this whole thing up and now… her trust is gone. Maybe not her trust in me. I’m not sure about that yet. But her trust in my ability to make things right is definitely on hold right now.