“Whatever that means…” I grip the counter, shaking my head, then push off and head for another lap around the living room.
“I’ve got something for you. You can thank me later.”
Dom ends the call before I can ask what the hell he’s talking about. A text comes in a second later.
Dom
Fallon Mae
22 Bay Breeze Dr
Don’t ask me how I got it
While I’m staring at the address, trying to decide what the hell I’m supposed to do with that information, one last text comes in.
Dom
Take her down, brother.
THIRTY-NINE
Mina
Monday morning hits like a freight train. Between the emotional roller coaster of the weekend, about four pounds of ice cream mixed with a Friends marathon, and crappy, broken sleep, I’m feeling like a character in a post-apocalyptic movie the day after the world ends. Not even a super sweet, super creamy coffee hand-delivered by my too hot to be real assistant gets me moving. If anything, it makes me sicker to my stomach than I already was.
I never did hear from Nathan and I’m trying to be okay with that. We all process things at our own pace. His pace might be a tad slower than I’d like, but that’s okay.
To a point, adds the snarky voice eager for a resolution, and I agree. After a while, he becomes the asshole for avoiding the situation.
But we aren’t there yet.
“Coffee not doing it for you?” asks Tad from my doorway. The man’s a genius when it comes to reading my moods, but I think even a stranger off the street could figure out I’m not doing great. My hair is brushed but not styled. My outfit is a basic black pant paired with a white blouse and flats. And no matter how much attention I paid to my makeup, it couldn’t hide the circles under my eyes.
“The fact I’m here at all is a miracle.” I slide the coffee out of reach and Tad gives me that sad smile reserved for people who look as bad as they feel.
“How can I be the best help to you today?” he asks. “Do you need to bury yourself in work? Or do you want me to tell everyone who calls that you’re in a meeting and buffer you from the world so you can take a catnap in that armchair over there?” Tad jerks his head toward the chair with a look that says he’ll hunt down a blanket and pillow if I so much as yawn.
And that right there is why I hired him. As much as I love to joke about it being because he’s so pretty, it really comes down to his kindness and his innate ability to read the room, not to mention he’s damn good at his job.
I sigh and shake my head. “Any chance you could go back in time a few months and give me some advice?”
“If only I had that power.” Tad holds up his hand in a silent hallelujah. “I’d make the world a better place one time jump at a time and wouldn’t even charge for the service. The good vibes would be payment enough.”
I nod knowingly, imagining the bliss of a world without regret. Why are we all so intent on making things harder than they need to be?
“I wouldn’t worry about that article, you know,” Tad says from his place in the doorway. “Nathan comes off worse than you do. He paid you to fake a relationship? That’s freakin’ dodgy, if you ask me, and fits a profile. The rich never miss a chance to take advantage of us little folks.”
Dear God. I’m willing to forget all previous unanswered prayers—this time is serious. Send in SEAL Team Six. Best, Mina Blake.
I reach for my coffee and stare balefully at the contents. “The only thing fake was that article. Nathan’s a good man and he wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wish everyone could know him like I do.”
“As long as he didn’t pay you to say that too.” Tad dips his chin as I fire up my rebuttal. “I’m sure he didn’t, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t put that out there. You know where to find me,” he finishes, then quietly closes the door.
I immediately consider calling Nathan. It’s been two days since we spoke. How much space can he possibly need? But one look at my calendar reminds me that life didn’t grind to a halt because I had a fight with my boyfriend. I have a meeting with a potential client in an hour, with Benjamin coming in after to hammer out the details on our business venture. I can’t control how Nathan handles his shit, but I can control how I handle mine.
Right now, I need to show up for me.
With a deep cleansing breath, I brush my hair back, chug my coffee and ask Tad to help me bury my feelings with work.
FORTY
Mina
Benjamin arrives just as the coffee wears off. My previous meeting went well, but this is the one that matters and I’m in a fatigue spiral.
Go figure.
His smile is bright, and his messenger bag bounces off a pair of beige pants that fit like they were designed for him. A dark blue button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows completes the outfit, reminding me of one of the reasons I had a crush on the man in the first place. He’s very, very pretty.
I force a smile and shake his hand, then do my best to focus as we discuss LLCs versus LLPs, contracts, payment structure, and marketing. Everything seems fair. Generous even, considering it’ll be his name that draws clients at first. I say as much, and Benjamin waves the statement away.
“What kind of partner would I be if I lock you into a contract that favors me just because in this moment, I’m farther along the career path?” Benjamin sits back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re every bit as talented, if not more so.”
I swallow a yawn and fight the urge to slap my cheeks. “Some might call you business savvy if you went that direction.”
“We need less people thinking that way, not more. I have my eyes on the future, Mina. If I leverage my name for bigger gains in the short term, I risk you resenting me in the long term. That’s not a great foundation for what I hope is a lasting relationship.”
Given how well the conversation is going, I should be giddy, but I can barely muster a hell yeah.
Benjamin frowns, studying me for a long moment before cocking his head and drawing his brows together. “Do you have reservations about us working together?”
“What? No! I’m incredibly excited.”
Damn this fatigue spiral! Surely, I can muster enough energy from somewhere to appear enthusiastic about one of the most important conversations in my life. I blink rapidly, hoping that might shake some liveliness loose.
“Excited is not the word I’d use to describe the person sitting across from me.” Benjamin sits back and crosses his ankle over his knee just as the sun dips behind a cloud, dimming the energy in my office even further. I can’t catch a break.
Dear God. Throw a girl a bone here! Yours, Mina Blake.
“I’m sorry. I had a difficult weekend and tried to caffeinate my way through the day and that clearly didn’t work as planned.”
Benjamin studies me for a long moment, then nods like he’s come to an understanding. “Your difficult weekend wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain article about a mutual friend, would it?”
I blink in surprise. How the hell have so many people read Fallon’s blog? I was furious when I thought she was small potatoes, but if her reach extends far enough for Benjamin and Tad to be reading, I’m more than furious.
I’m…
I’m…
