by Snow, Nicole
“Your face. It looks like you just came back from a funeral. Are you okay?”
I nod vigorously, hoping if I shake my head hard enough, maybe I can cover up the obvious damage inflicted by one heartless man. I should’ve known there’d be no fooling her.
“You’re sure?” Mom asks, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.
“I just need some coffee. Long night,” I tell her, rubbing my eyes.
“Come sit down at the table. I just made a fresh pot,” she says, pulling me into the kitchen by the hand.
I flump down in a wooden chair, folding my arms over the table, and lay my head down.
She brings a cup of coffee and puts it down beside me. “What happened, baby?”
“Nothing,” I say, hating how she uses her mom-ray vision to see right through me.
“You haven’t just randomly shown up here in a while,” she whispers, her expression flat.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been really busy and—”
“What did Magnus do?”
I look up as her question cuts me off. With me, she’s practically psychic.
“Nothing,” I try again, shaking my head.
“You’re not ready to talk about it. That’s okay.” She sits down in the chair next to me and I hear her pen scratching on a thick notepad.
Even with my head down and my eyes closed, I know she’s writing. My mom’s old-school and she outlines her notes by hand before diving into her books on the laptop.
I lift my head. “What are you working on now?”
“A sequel to Farm Love, because it sold so well.”
I give her a wry smile and take a heavenly sip of my coffee. It’s so sweet and cinnamon-y I almost pucker. Apparently she knew I needed the sugar and spice rush today.
“You write romance. They were together by the end of the first book. What’s left?” I ask.
She laughs. “Farm Love was a romantic comedy with a twist of suspense, not romance. Don’t you remember? You read it.”
Um...not really, but okay.
“It seems like ages ago. There’s a difference?”
She shrugs. “There doesn’t have to be. Rom-com can go the women’s fiction route instead of conventional romance.”
“Uh—again, there’s a difference?”
“Women’s fiction focuses on the journey, the ups and downs, and the heroine’s growth is central to the story. The man can grow, or he can be replaced. If I went the romance route with that book, I’d be looking for a friend to write a story about. But I went the women’s fiction route and straddled the line so well no one will ever know.” Her voice goes up into a singsong pitch on the last few words.
“So what does that mean for the sequel?”
She looks at me without breaking eye contact. “It means life keeps happening after the happily ever after. The characters have to continue working on themselves and their relationships. Life is chock-full of new struggles.”
“I’ll take the bait. What’s your sequel about?”
She smiles and holds her hands out like she’s framing something.
“I’m calling it Hog Fights Under City Lights. Our lady got her life back and returns to the big city after a fight. The ex-Marine farmer man follows her and tries to win her back, but she’s not going to make it easy. He isn’t a city slicker. They’re too different.”
“How does he win her back?” I ask.
“Well, all the fighting leads to really good makeup sex, and then Sir Oinkswell—”
“Stop. Words I could have gone my whole life without hearing from my mother,” I grumble.
“You mean Sir Oinkswell?” She winks at me. “Our hero has to make some grand, heartwarming gesture, of course. Oh, and groveling. It ain’t a real knock-down love fight without plenty of that.”
“Grand gesture?”
“Hearts and flowers and tears. A life or death risk. I’m still working it out, but they’re going to have to learn to compromise. If only I knew what a certain assistant and her boss were squabbling over, I could probably help them compromise too. I just hope good makeup sex is part of the bargain—”
“Mom! You’re terrible, and I’m pretty sure that’s no longer an option,” I hiss, surprising myself. Like I ever wanted to let my romance writer mom in on my sex life.
“Aha—busted! Now do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No. I just came for cinnamon coffee.” My whole face warms.
“How much did it cost you to get here for coffee?” She laughs. “You should’ve just bought a cup of coffee. Don’t worry, baby, you guys will work it out.”
I sigh.
It’s not worth saying I don’t want to work anything out. Mom believes everybody deserves a happy ending, even in real life, and there’ll be no convincing her otherwise.
When I leave my parents’ house, I still have zero messages, no missed calls, and no response to my email. Magnus has already built up three hundred unopened emails.
I know because I check. He’s going to be buried alive.
When I get back to my apartment, I’m greeted with the scent of pepperoni, melted cheese, and...chocolate?
“Chocolate pizza?” I ask, turning my nose up into the air for a better whiff.
“I ordered pizza and made cookies. Netflix?” Paige asks from her perch on the couch.
“Sounds good to me. What are we watching?”
“No idea. You pick,” she says, sliding the remote over.
Great. Now I’m on the heartbreak outreach pizza party program.
“Okay. Just let me grab some food first.”
I make a plate and sit down on the floor. I’ve had enough self-pity for one day. But there’s also this sense that without HeronComm and the despicable Mr. Heron, my whole life grinds to a halt. I’m frozen in time with nowhere to turn but pizza and bad TV.
She grins and pats my shoulder. “Congrats. You just survived day one without the asshat.”
“The asshat is dead to me,” I lie, forcing a triumphant smile.
“It gets easier,” she whispers.
God, how I wish she were right.
All night long, I fight the urge to pack up my stuff, jump in my new car, and ride off into the moonlight where I’ll never have to think about Magnus again.
24
Smart Stick (Magnus)
I’m stuck in office hell, trying to claw through four thousand emails, when my desk phone rings. Gavin Stuart and Associates flashes across the caller ID.
I groan. This guy never has good news.
“Heron,” I snap.
“I’ve got an update on the situation for you. They’re still in Saint Thomas. As far as my PI can tell, the kid is being cared for,” Gavin tells me.
I shove the tip of my pencil against my desk so hard the end breaks off.
“Considering what I pay you and your investigators, I still don’t understand how you failed to stop the jet before it left the fucking country,” I snarl, pain crawling up my throat.
Rage is my permanent state of being since that night.
I still can’t fathom what lies the bastard told Jordan to get him on a plane when Marissa would’ve woken up again soon.
“Mr. Heron, we’ve been through this,” Gavin stammers. “There was no stopping the plane. You’re not even a legal guardian, but I’m reviewing all options to force him back.”
“Options. Right. Something I don’t need to pay an attorney fourteen hundred dollars an hour for. I want action,” I growl.
If there’s one thing I despise, it’s feeling rudderless.
“I understand your frustration, sir. The good news is, the Virgin Islands are likely to extradite him easily under territorial law. If he were on the British side, we’d be looking at a harder situation. Our best case is for the kid’s mom to get involved ASAP. If she’s the complainant, she can bring them back rather quickly,” he says.
“I told you, she’s barely out of a coma. She drifts in and out of consciousness. As soon as she’s i
n a position to help, she will. God only knows when that will be. The next time I talk to you, you’d better have a solution for me, Stuart, or I’ll be finding a new law firm.”
I leave it there because this bullshit isn’t his fault.
I’m the dumbass who let Jordan leave with Baxter Heron. I should’ve kept them at the hospital, even if it meant beating that jackass to a pulp and letting Sabrina take the kid home.
Fuck.
Brina. I’m not even ready to think of her name.
“With all due respect, Mr. Heron, most attorneys wouldn’t put up with you as a client,” he fires back. “I’ll call when there’s more information.”
Then the prick hangs up on me before I can do what I was planning—slamming the receiver down in dramatic fashion.
No fun today, apparently.
I scroll through my emails, looking for the coordinates the investigator sent, so I can plug them into maps and see where my little brother is. Sabrina quit sorting my email the night I sent her home from the hospital.
My inbox is swamped, and I can’t find a goddamned thing, even with search.
My door swings open a second later and Ruby bursts in. Her expression tells me she’s bringing more bad news. She doesn’t linger inside my door like she usually does, though, but walks around behind my desk and stops a foot from my chair.
A furious sting like a pissed-off murder hornet bathes my jaw in fire before I can even figure out what the hell is going on.
I just got fucking slapped by my own HR Director.
It’s official. I’ve lost control of this ship and my life.
“Have you lost your damned mind?” I snarl.
“Nope. That was me hitting you with a smart stick. We’ll see if I can undo the hundred stupid sticks you’ve already been whacked with. Someone has to knock some sense into you, and since Brina’s gone, guess who gets the job. What the hell did you do to her, Mag?”
She folds her arms in front of her chest with a pout.
“Nothing!” I spit, her slap resonating through me.
Ruby shakes her head. “Bull. She always got here between five and six most days and usually left around midnight. She hung on your every word. Now she’s asking for time off. So spill it.”
“Give her the vacation time.”
I at least owe her that.
“Oh, I will, but that’s not the real issue.” Ruby puts a hand on her hip. “Is she coming back?”
I hesitate because I don’t fucking know.
And the thought that I’m the colossal asshole who drove her away, who made her quit, who chased her away hits worse than a thousand face-shearing slaps from Miss Hunting.
“What am I, her keeper? You’ll have to ask her.”
I know I certainly can’t. Not after that last blistering text.
Lose my fucking number.
I’ll be damned if I send her a message and make this worse than the nuclear dumpster fire it already is.
“I’ll send an email soon. If she doesn’t answer, should I put an ad out for a new EA?” Ruby asks tightly.
I look down at my desk. “If she comes back, the job’s still hers.”
The thought of replacing her, even just as my EA, makes me fucking sick.
Filled with pure, throbbing loathing for myself.
“I’m going to ask one more time, Mag, and if you won’t answer, that’s fine. But I hope you think about it and figure your shit out. What did you do to that woman?”
I don’t answer.
Ruby’s gaze bores into me like a blade. Her hands fall to my desk, and she leans over me.
“Listen, idiot. She’s the best EA you’ve ever had. I don’t have to tell you that even if I manage to find someone who doesn’t quit on you in two weeks, your life will be harder. Much harder. Because no one else will ever do what Brina does.”
“I hear you,” I grind out. “If you’re done with your rant, please—”
“No.” She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed like an angry cat. “No, Magnus. You think I’m just talking about business? She...she loved you. It’s been obvious to everyone in this office the last few weeks. It’s why she put up with your never-ending fuckery. Not only have you lost our best employee—you fucked things up with the only woman who could ever love you.”
Loved me?
Fuck it.
Another complication I don’t need.
“Admit it,” Ruby whispers. “You know how right I am, and it’s not too late to pull your head out of your—”
“Ass? Yes, you are, Ruby, and I’m done with it.” I tent my hands over my chest and lean back in my chair. “I won’t admit to anything. I’ve also got over a billion reasons in the bank that say I won’t have any trouble hiring cupid whenever I need his services.”
Her whole face sours, bright-red lips twisting like an expired cherry. Then she heads back to the door.
“You’re making it really, really hard not to slap you again. No fortune in the world is worth your attitude. You’re so ridiculous you can’t be honest with yourself. I get it. The crap with Jordan, you’re hurt, and you’re lashing out.” She throws her hands up. “Honestly? I never thought I’d say this, but, Magnus Heron, you need to grow the fuck up. You’re acting like your father. A man women literally hid from when they knew he was in the building.”
“You watch your tongue or Miss Bristol won’t be the only one handing in her resignation,” I bite off, and immediately regret it.
That went too far, but so did she.
Frustrated, I stand, chucking the legal pad on my desk across the room. Ruby doesn’t flinch as it smacks the wall next to her.
I never aimed to hit her. I’m not that insane. I’m just fucking reeling.
“Really?” Ruby glares, folding her arms.
“You don’t get it. I broke things off with Brina specifically because I’m not my shitbag father. It wasn’t any easier for me than it was for her. I can’t be him. I won’t. The incident at the hospital made me realize...” I trail off, the words stuck in my throat. My eyes land on the legal pad on the floor behind her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to throw it.”
She nods slowly.
“Yeah, yeah, you were protecting her. I wish you would’ve just come to me. We could’ve figured something out.” She looks over her shoulder at the paper pad on the floor and back at me. “I’ve never seen you lose it like that before. She really did a number on you, huh?”
My jaw pinches tighter than a drum.
“For what it’s worth, we planned on talking to you about it before Marissa woke up. I didn’t want anyone in the office finding out. I needed Brina free to take care of things here without juvenile rumors.” I suck in a deep, harsh breath. “Becoming a fourteen-year-old’s caretaker is harder than you’d think. I had to look after Jordan first, and I tried, but...”
But fuck-nothing.
“None of it matters now,” I whisper, turning my back, my shoulders dragging me down. “None of this matters.”
Outside, the city looks extra dreary, half the Chicago skyline obscured by thick grey fog choking out the sun.
“We all knew,” Ruby says in a tiny voice. “We knew that dried out lump of coal you call a heart grew several sizes thanks to her. The question is, what do you want to do about it?”
“Nothing. Getting Jordan home remains my top priority. As for me and Miss Bristol, I’ll take the amicable route. Move on with my life, let her move on with hers. If she comes back to work, the job is hers. If she quits, give her a generous severance package.”
But if she comes back to work, will I be able to keep my distance? Will I be my dad?
I don’t have an answer and it makes me want to fling my desk over the second Ruby leaves.
“That’s not a good idea.” Ruby shakes her head. “Severance packages are for when people are forced out due to circumstances beyond their control. I don’t recommend it. It opens you up to liability. It’s like an admission of guilt.”
And? I am f
ucking guilty.
“I’ll deal with it when the time comes,” I say.
She doesn’t say anything but makes no effort to exit my office.
“Yes?” I ask, glaring at her.
“Can I say something, Mag?” She hesitates.
“It’s not like you’ve ever asked permission before.”
“If you ended it ugly and then you give her severance for quitting, she’s going to be justifiably pissed. If you’re after an olive branch, this isn’t it.”
“Why would she be upset that I gave her something?” I ask, scowling.
Ruby laughs. “You’re such a guy. A severance package isn’t flowers or jewelry or an apology. It’s a kiss-off, and not a very nice one.”
“Bull. She can’t pay her rent with trinkets or words.”
Ruby looks at me.
“You know, I’m starting to see how a billionaire with abs stays single.”
“What the hell would you do then?” I roll my eyes right out of my head.
“If you’re asking your HR Director...you apologize. Then if anyone asks for a reference, keep it honest and glowing, but leave out the part where she abruptly quit. If you’re asking your friend, you still apologize for being a raging asshole. Next, you swallow your pride and make things right with your girl.”
Damn her to infinity.
She’s so right it hurts worse than another scorch-mark slap to the face.
“Ruby, I need to let it go,” I whisper, hating how fucking frayed I sound.
She shrugs. “It’s not my call. I’m just mad I have to replace an amazing EA.”
* * *
That evening, I storm into the car and throw my briefcase down. We’re already moving before I realize Armstrong’s usually warm greeting isn’t there.
“How’s it going?” I ask, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror.
“Fine, sir.”
He’s not fine.
The drive home passes in grim silence. I get the feeling that he, too, would love to smack me upside the head with Ruby’s damnable smart stick.
I don’t care.
By the time he pulls up to my building, he still hasn’t said more than two words.
I put my hand on the door handle, ready to get out of the car, when Brina’s face pops into my head.
