Perfect Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  As she rattles off a few happy details about their new life in an undisclosed (and hopefully temporary) location, I head into the kitchen for bread and peanut butter. I shove a piece of bread in my mouth and start chewing so it soaks up all of the damn acid this baby gave me overnight while making a proper peanut butter sandwich.

  Sandwich in hand, I walk into the living room and collapse on the couch.

  “I called Paige last night. I’m going back to work today,” I tell her, taking a bite.

  “Work? Are you sure that’s a good idea? They gave you a whole week off you said...”

  “They’re not going to pay me to stay home barfing forever—”

  “They should. The senior partner whose name is on the building is kinda why you’re barfing, Reese.”

  I roll my eyes. “That isn’t Ward’s fault, and the guy responsible doesn’t know about it.”

  She pauses. I can feel her disapproval over the line.

  “Are you ever going to tell him?” Abby asks.

  “Ward? Yeah, I’ll talk to him today, but I’m sure Paige told him since they’re married and all. I’ll have to take maternity leave soon enough, and they’ve been so nice about everything else...I don’t want to take advantage. If he asks me to resign, I will.”

  “What will you do?”

  I shrug. “Uber. Lyft. Maybe both. That might not be a bad option for a while, even if the pay can’t hold a candle to my job.”

  “So, when are you telling Nick?” she asks point-blank.

  I shudder, folding my arms around my sides.

  “Whenever. He broke up with me. He hasn’t called or texted once. I’m not rushing to contact him. Sure, he’ll find out eventually, and we’ll deal with it then like responsible adults. I might be a lot of things like a slut who sleeps with her boss, but I’m not desperate, Abby.”

  “What’s a slut?” Millie asks in the background.

  Oh, God. I bury my face in my hands.

  “You’re on speaker, aren’t you?” I whine while Abby laughs. “Bad word, Millie! Sorry. Guess I get a time-out.”

  “Auntie Reese can’t be a bad word!” I hear her say.

  There goes the last piece of my heart today.

  I sigh. “Does she still ask about Quick Nick? I hate that too. She got so attached to him, Abby...”

  “She does, and I tell her he’s fine. I dunno, he seems like an okay guy. He took care of you and Millie—”

  “Until he didn’t,” I snap.

  “I bet he thinks he was still taking care of you, Reese. But there’s one thing I need to say...”

  “What’s that?”

  “What happened isn’t something you should ever be ashamed of. You didn’t just randomly hook up with your boss. He moved you in. That’s a relationship, sis.” I can hear her fighting back a smile. “After all the hell Will put me through, I still don’t actually regret anything.”

  “What?” I do a double take. “He’s a colossal jackass.”

  “He is. But he’s also my daughter’s father. Without enduring his bullshit, I wouldn’t have Millie, and she’s worth every second. I also learned a lot from our relationship.”

  My lips twist. Abby has never been stupid. What the hell could Will Frisk teach her?

  “Like what?” I whisper.

  “Growing up in the foster system and moving around made me feel like I wasn’t worth having a home and a family...and if I wasn’t worth those simple, normal things, then something must’ve been wrong with me.”

  I nod, pressing the phone closer to my head. She’s preaching to the choir.

  “But when I left the system...there was no one there to help. I had to stand on my own, to help look after you, and it was hard doing that with no self-esteem. I stumbled into bad habits as a coping mechanism. You remember how it was...”

  “I do,” I tell her.

  “I could work sixty hours a week and live on ramen, but I couldn’t live without my next fix,” she continues, drawing a shaky breath. “I had to grow a backbone when I knew Millie was coming. Addicts’ kids end up in the system. I wouldn’t let that happen. I had to be able to function without my cope. I had to learn that I’m worthy of love, sober and clean, because I love Millie. And if I could learn all of that from my crappy stupid drug dealer ex, then there has to be something positive you’re walking away with. Nick Brandt crossed your path for a reason.”

  I flop back, dumbstruck by how on-point she is today.

  “Your choices now are this: talk to him and see if there’s something worth fixing, or move on. Either option is only bad if you let it be,” Abby says.

  I bring my knees up to my chest and hug them.

  “I guess it’s option B. You know I won’t go crawling back. I’m not another one of his love it and leave it supermodels.”

  “If that’s what you want. Choose wisely, sis.”

  “I’m not sure it’s what I want, Abby, but it’s what I get. It’s what’ll keep me sane.”

  “Just don’t work too hard before you’re ready. You can’t throw up driving down the street again. Your work car’s way too nice,” she says with a laugh.

  I snicker at the story I told her earlier.

  “Yeah. Ward was pretty terrified when it happened. He was all, ‘Dammit, Reese, you’re going to get us both killed. Why didn’t you just say you were sick?’” I imitate his worn-leather voice.

  We laugh and make small talk for an hour until I feel human enough to drag myself into work.

  Nick is a major-league jackass who left me pregnant and alone, but like Abby said...it wasn’t all bad.

  He saved my sister’s butt and mine. Millie can even sound out whole words while reading now, thanks to Tiffany. I glance in the passenger seat at the large manila envelope.

  I still can’t believe I’m doing this.

  Pulling into a gated parking lot, I kill the engine and pop a prenatal lollipop in my mouth. Thank God for this weird anti-nausea vitamin candy.

  I’m so nervous I’d have to worry about vomiting on a normal day. I walk into a dark Gothic skyscraper I would have cowered away from once. But after working at Brandt Ideas and staying in Nick’s penthouse...this is just a normal high-end office.

  That’s what I tell myself.

  I take the elevator up, find the suite, and ring the bell for the receptionist.

  A woman in jeans and white heels walks up to the desk. “Can I help you?”

  Clutching the envelope with one hand, I pull the lollipop out with the other. “I have an appointment with Mr. Osprey.”

  “About?” She cocks her head.

  Does it matter? Why does he make appointments if he’s still going to give people the third degree?

  “The tantalizing truth about Nicholas Brandt,” I say, deadpan.

  She picks up a clipboard and glances at it. “Reese Halle?”

  I nod.

  “You lasted longer than they usually do,” she says blankly.

  “Huh?”

  “Most of Nick’s exes come through here once it’s over.” She laughs. “I’ve never met anyone as talented at pissing women off. If it’s taken you this long, then you’ve lasted longer than most.”

  I have no idea how to respond to that.

  I’m sad and angry for him that every person he’s ever cared about can’t wait to sell his secrets. But he went through girls like tissues for a while, so maybe it was fair.

  Besides, if I mention how sick it is people do that to him, she’ll think I’m a hypocrite. But I had to play it up as bait.

  If Roland Osprey knew why I’m really here, I wouldn’t have gotten the appointment.

  I also wish people would leave Nick the hell alone. I don’t want to be followed like this once the baby comes, and if anyone photographs and harasses my kid for being related to the notorious Brandt Boys, I’ll go to jail for assault.

  But I can’t say that either. It’ll just invite more prying.

  “Lucky me,” I say.

  Her fac
e goes blank like she knows I didn’t find it funny.

  “You can sit over there.” She points to a chair in the waiting room.

  I suck on my lollipop and take a seat.

  The assistant comes out before too long, and I follow her into an office that could put everyone named Brandt to shame.

  Roland Osprey is...not what I expected.

  He’s a tall, built whip of a man with blue lightning bolts for eyes and he has the handsome evil villain thing down pat. He sits in a high pitch-black leather throne on one side of a sprawling desk, and I take a shorter chair on the other side.

  “So, you’ve brought me the tantalizing truth about Nicholas Brandt, Miss Halle?”

  I swallow. “You publish so much negative crap about Nick. I wanted to give you another story.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m his driver.”

  “I know. Miss Literally Who. That’s what my content team named you,” he says, his voice like charred bourbon.

  He’s just as intimidating as Nick and Ward.

  This is already not going as expected.

  “I’m both, yeah,” I say.

  “Well then, let’s have it.” He nods but a sarcastic grin spreads across his face.

  “My sister was arrested on drug charges that made no sense. She’d been clean for years, and she has no hobbies outside of taking care of her daughter. Nick threw every resource he had behind it. He hired an attorney, a teacher for her daughter, tracked down the actual drug dealer, and uncovered a warehouse drug site. He helped save a lot of lives here in Chicago. I...I never even asked him for help.” I sigh, gathering my thoughts. “Nick was just with me the day it all fell on my head. I know it’s not the kind of thing you cover, but I thought you should know. The drugs he had that day with Carmen Seraphina—I think they’re related to the mess we were untangling. I would’ve been there with him, but he wouldn’t let me stay. I had my young niece and he didn’t want us mixed up in legal trouble—or bad gossip.”

  Roland studies me for a minute in a long silence that kind of scares me.

  “You’re in love with him,” the mogul whips out.

  “Wha—no!” I bark back. It’s just a lot harder to get over a bad breakup when you’re carrying around a constant reminder of your ex like—you know—his DNA.

  Roland smiles. I can’t decide if it’s friendly or dangerous.

  “Sweetheart, you’re entirely too red for me to be wrong. Don’t worry. I had no intention of chucking your hero to the lions—”

  “You didn’t?”

  Roland shakes his head. “Carmen Seraphina sent me an old, very brazen sexual encounter on a memory card. I can see why he didn’t want that published. I watched my driver run over the device and told Miss Seraphina the file was corrupted. I decided to go easy on Nicholas. My next exclusive is a bitter exposè on one broken woman’s obsession and the infamy of her falling star.”

  My heart beats in my throat. I don’t know if I want to relax.

  “Thank you?” It comes out like a question.

  I’m giving Roland what I can to save Nick’s reputation, but I’m kind of relieved he may not even need it. I may have to raise this baby alone now, but I’ll do it without owing Nicholas Brandt a damn thing.

  “What’s in the envelope?” Osprey asks, his eyes flicking to it.

  “Evidence. Anything I could find to back up my story.”

  “May I?” His hand falls on the envelope.

  “Sure. Keep it.” I push my chair back and stand, ready to get the hell out of here.

  “Miss Halle?” he calls, just as I’m heading for the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Between us, I’ve played my fair share of charity poker with Beatrice Brandt over the years. I don’t think I ever had the heart to ruin Nicholas Brandt unless he did something truly heinous.” Osprey winks at me. “However, now that he’s grown a conscience...there’s a chance you’ll see him lauded in The Tea rather than eviscerated. Thank you, again.”

  I nod and then exit the sleek, too shadowy office, feeling like I’ve just escaped a castle complete with vampire.

  While I met with Osprey, a storm rolled in.

  It’s the middle of the day, but it’s dark as night out. Perfect. It matches my mood.

  I trek through ankle-deep cold water, plop down in the driver’s seat, and turn the car on, hoping the heat works quickly.

  A text message pops up from Abby.

  Hey Reese, big news. They have the head honcho cartel dude in custody. He’ll have a trial soon. This is goodbye until he’s away. Millie & I love you. Hopefully we’ll be home before Christmas.

  Christmas? That’s almost six months away.

  God.

  So, I’m even more alone. I cross my arms on the steering wheel, lean into them, and battle back dry sobs.

  When my tear ducts dry, I drive to Brandt Ideas, praying it’s time for something like normalcy.

  * * *

  At the office, I pull up to the curb.

  Ward slides in as grump-faced as ever. “You’re late.”

  I am, and he’s been more than understanding about everything going on.

  I turn to face him. “I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again, boss.”

  “If it does, you know I won’t buy it when you tell me you’re okay. Are you?”

  I nod firmly.

  “We’re just going to pick up Paige, Reese.” His voice softens. “It’s no big deal.”

  “You should be upset with me. I haven’t been doing a good job of holding it together and it’s spilling over into my performance.”

  “Reese, you’ve been through hell. I can deal with that,” he says.

  “Thanks.” I pull onto the street and head for the art gallery.

  The ride passes in silence. Ward is basically the opposite of Nick. Friendlier than he used to be, but aloof. Ward works from his phone the whole time he’s in the car. The only person he puts work aside for is Paige, and that’s okay, even if it reminds me of what I’ve lost.

  The ride passes in peaceful silence.

  But driving Nick’s brother around all day is hard.

  I’m so tempted to ask, “Have you heard from him?” But that would be an admission of sorts and also pathetic.

  Later, I pull up next to the front door of Paige’s studio.

  She comes out wearing a sleek blue dress. Ward steps out and opens the door for her like her personal knight.

  Once they’re inside, Paige pokes Ward in the chest with her finger. “You’re late. Were you too busy to put work down again—”

  “Paige,” he says softly.

  She laughs. “I’m just joking, grumpypants. But I’ve always said Brandt Ideas is your mistress. Timeliness, sir.”

  “Paige—”

  I turn around. “It was my fault, Paige. I’m sorry.”

  Her mouth forms an O. “Have you been crying, Reese?”

  “No,” I lie.

  “Holy crap. Hold on.”

  She climbs out the back door, walks around the car, and sits in the passenger seat. She leans over. “Have you heard from him?”

  Isn’t that the million-dollar question? But does that mean they haven’t heard from him either?

  Absolute panic consumes me. God, just let him be okay.

  I back out of the parking lot and let out a painful breath.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Idiot! I’m going to kick him in the balls, and...and I might even bring a pie into it!”

  “You’re never gonna let that thing with Heron go, huh?” Ward chuckles from the back, referencing the time she slapped billionaire mogul Magnus Heron with a pie for grinding her bestie’s heart into dust.

  That’s the Paige we all know and love.

  “Also, you abandoned me,” Ward says.

  “I’m sorry! Tell your brother he’s going to need a new pair of family jewels,” Paige says with a hostile grin.

  I dart my eyes at Paige and stare at her before looking back
at the road.

  “You two are so funny,” I say with a laugh.

  Even though I’m smiling, Nick’s stupid, arrogant face flashes through my brain.

  We could’ve been cute like them.

  We could’ve been a lot of things.

  But now, we’re only heartbreak, and I don’t think we’re ever meant to be anything more.

  30

  Big Decision (Nick)

  I wake up just before landing with a lance of sunlight blinding me.

  Good morning to you, too, Destiny, you twisted fuck.

  I grab my luggage the second I’m off the plane, moving through the airport’s thick morning crowd to ground transportation. A gift shop with huge bouquets in bright colors halts me midstep.

  Damn. Flowers alone can’t make up for the crap I pulled, but a side of flowers with an eviscerating apology and a whole mess of groveling might.

  I walk up to the counter. “Can I get the orange and yellow roses in the display case?”

  “One dozen or three?”

  “Three.”

  “Someone’s a lucky lady!” The florist smiles and shuffles over to the glass case with her key.

  “I doubt it makes up for the hell I’ve put her through,” I mutter.

  Her smile disappears as she returns with my flowers.

  “In that case, at least you tried. Good luck.”

  I swipe my credit card as spools of cotton-sugar catch my eye. I think of Reese and smile.

  “A bundle of cotton candy, too, please.” I grab a blue and pink cloud from the rack and throw it on the counter.

  “In case she throws the flowers at you?” the florist says with a grin.

  “Something like that.”

  I leave with my loot.

  By the time I’m home, showered, and changed—I can’t go begging for forgiveness looking like total shit—it’s almost ten a.m. Probably too late to catch her before work. The next few hours promise agony.

  What if she slaps me and slams the door in my face?

  Fuck.

  What if I get pied like Magnus Heron? She has been hanging out with Paige a lot.

  All I can do is suck it up and find out.

  Later that evening, I’m knocking at her door with my sorry-I-fucking-wrecked-your-life presents.