by Liz Meldon
She decided she’d take that as a day one success story. Otherwise, she’d go home miserable. While issuing regular admissions was fairly straightforward, the computer system was convoluted, slow, and had ten steps to get from Point A to Point B when two would suffice. Illogical. Frustrating. Tedious. There were special days, special prices, special discounts—all of which she had to memorize as soon as possible. Skye was the first point of contact. She had to sell the museum confidently and speak knowledgeably.
Now, four hours into her first shift, she wanted to rip her hair out, cry in frustration, and celebrate the fact that she had a real grown-up job at last, with real grown-up possibilities in her future. It was a veritable clusterfuck of feelings, and she couldn’t wait to curl up on the couch with Oz and distract herself from her first day fumbles with a bottle of wine. Brynn had already asked if she wanted to hit up a bar after her shift, but Skye needed the solo time to decompress. Getting shit-faced surrounded by strangers just wouldn’t cut it today.
“Just play around,” her new boss had told her before he’d left her to her own devices. “No one expects you to know everything by the end of the day. Take your time. My extension number is written on the phone if you have questions.”
With the number literally taped to the top of the multi-line front desk phone, Skye could, in theory, ring up old Hans Timmons if she found herself struggling. But she hadn’t. Skye wanted to prove that she was better than that. She had spent so many years getting her degree. She was probably older than all the other applicants who had applied for this position. She could do this, damn it. First day jitters would not get her down.
Now, if only this stupid, terrible, time-consuming system would go back to the inventory page like she wanted… Why have a touchscreen system if you could only use it when ringing up an order?
Suddenly, the GUESTS ARRIVING box at the top of the screen flashed. Hooked up to the main doors, its purpose was to alert her, discreetly, that she had someone to pander to. Squaring her shoulders, she ran through a mental checklist of everything she should say, do, and prompt, then looked up with a bright smile.
One that vanished instantly when she realized who had just waltzed in like they owned the place.
Cole and Finn.
Together.
At her new job. On her first day.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and Skye could feel herself wilting as they approached. It had been about a week and a half since Finn had driven her home from her night of drinking, dancing, and belligerently gossiping with college friends. A week and a half since she’d kissed him and admitted to herself that she was in love with Cole—while also falling for Finn. A week and a half to realize that this wouldn’t work, for any of them, and it was time to be an adult and end this charade.
Only Skye was a coward. She’d simply stopped responding to messages from both men and buried herself in job prep, apartment hunting, and reconnecting with visiting friends. After all, if she was going to end this for the good of everyone’s heart involved, she needed to cut ties with her sugar daddy. Which meant no more gorgeous, expensive apartment. No more spending without thinking of her bank account. No more financial security.
And no more Cole and Finn. When she wasn’t staring blankly at apartment ads, halfheartedly reading her job contracts, and forcing a smile with her friends, she was mourning the loss to come. A brave person would have severed ties already. A brave person didn’t need days to build up the courage to do it. A brave person wouldn’t have forced these two men, these friends, to seek her out at work. Whatever was headed her way in the form of two perfect specimens in fitted suits, Skye only had herself to blame.
The thought of ending it…
Well, it broke her.
But that didn’t matter. In the long run, it made sense. Right now, it was devastating, and she could barely look at them as they sauntered up to her new front desk kingdom. A huge square with the middle cut out, Skye’s station was the only thing in the main entryway. A few tasteful nude portraits, steeped in shadow and intrigue, hung on the walls, but otherwise it was just her, the front desk cube, the tile, and the walls. Behind her, there was an entrance and an exit door, where patrons would start and finish their tour of the displays inside.
“Skye.” Finn tipped his head, sidling right up to her station and leaning against it. “Look at you. All delicious in your little outfit—”
“What are you guys doing here?” she demanded, smoothing a hand down the black collared shirt Hans had given her that morning. This wasn’t the time or the place for any of what she had in mind to go down. Her gaze flitted nervously to Cole, who wore an annoyingly unreadable expression. To his credit, his phone was nowhere to be seen.
“We’ve been discussing our situation,” Finn told her, “and, since you’ve been rather pointedly avoiding us, we figured it was time to come to you.”
“Congratulations,” Cole offered as he scanned the room, his voice soft and familiar, “on the job. I… I should have said something sooner.”
Skye exhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two men before her. One whom she had been falling hopelessly in love with and pining after for years. The other who had reignited her spirit, who challenged her—who was both shamelessly uncomplicated and drenched in potential heartache.
“Today really isn’t a good day to do this,” she protested, crossing her arms when Finn stared pointedly around the empty room.
“We can wait until the crowd dies down.”
Cole shot his friend a narrowed look, and Skye braced herself when his lips parted, but, as usual, he had nothing to say. Fine. If they were determined to do this right this second, Skye could get onboard. Never mind that this was her first day. Never mind that her nerves were frayed and her head was full of fog. If they wanted to show up and demand to talk, then she would let them have it.
“Fine.” On wobbly legs, she stalked to the back of her little cube, struggled with the tricky door latch, and then motioned for them to follow her outside. No way was she recording the shattering of her heart on the security camera.
She stopped at the curb just outside the main doors, her arms crossed, if only to hide the way her hands shook. All Skye really wanted to do in that moment was hug Cole and kiss Finn—but that was part of the problem. She couldn’t have her cake and eat it too. That wasn’t the way the world worked. As desperate as she was to lose herself in Cole’s arms, to forget the spat they’d had and sweep it under the rug like always, she couldn’t. And as much as she wanted to kiss Finn’s smirking mouth, run her hand over his rock-hard body and feel alive again, she definitely couldn’t.
“Cole and I have been talking,” Finn started with a quick glance to Cole, who nodded, “and we’re all on the same page here about what’s been happening since my soiree last month.”
“Okay.” Skye could already hear what they were going to say. If they were angry that she had slept with both of them, they had every right to be. If they were hurt that she loved one while still managing to save a piece of her heart for the other, she couldn’t blame them. So, she figured she might as well save them some time. “But let me go first.”
“Skye—”
“No,” she said firmly, holding up a hand to stop Cole, “I need to say this.”
The pair exchanged looks, Cole seeming more hesitant than Finn, but he eventually gestured for her to proceed. Skye sucked in a soft breath, briefly entertaining the idea of zipping across the street to the loitering cab in front of the hotel. No. She had been running and hiding from this for long enough.
“First of all, I never wanted to come between two friends,” she told them, the rehearsed words flying out with more speed than intended. “I’d never want to ruin something, or put pressure or tension between you guys, and I’m really sorry if I did. It wasn’t my intention.”
Cole shook his head and stepped toward her. “No, you didn’t… Skye—”
“But,” she said firmly, “it’s helped me realize what I ne
ed to do. We need to end things. We have to cut ties, because I c-can’t keep doing this.” Difficult as it was, Skye ignored the panicked expression on Cole’s face, followed by the swift frown on Finn’s. “Now that I’m working and done with school, I think it’ll be best that we end our, uhm, contract as well. It’s too hard for me to keep on doing what we’ve been doing.” Her eyes darted to Finn. “Every time we talk, it’s just a reminder that I’m putting a wedge between two people I care a lot about. And… I… Both of you…”
Damn it. She blinked back her tears. She had practiced this, although she had never intended to say it in front of both of them—but maybe that was for the best. Just rip the band-aid off. Get it over with.
“Skye, you don’t have to do this,” Cole insisted, his tone gentle as he moved in, perhaps to take her hand, but she stepped back and shook her head.
“I do. I do have to do this. I refuse to put you two in a situation where you or I have to choose.”
Finn cleared his throat. “That’s not what we’re—”
“This hurts me too much,” she blurted, her eyes watery and her words tight. She swallowed hard and looked away. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, and I… I should pay the price for it.”
“No, Skye—”
“You don’t have to—”
“But that’s the decision I’ve made,” she told them. “It’s what I deserve.”
“Oh Skye, don’t be so dramatic,” Finn said with a slight eye roll. “We can talk about this.”
Mercifully, Hans took that moment to poke his head out the main doors, eyebrows up.
“Is everything okay out here?” he asked, ignoring Finn and Cole, his gaze fixed on Skye. She offered a frantic nod, mortified that all this had played out at her new job, potentially in front of the man who could make or break her fledging museum career.
“Fine,” she told him, clearing her throat as she beelined for the door. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back inside. This… This can count as my break.”
“Hardly,” her new boss remarked, finally looking Finn and Cole over. “This doesn’t seem all that relaxing. Gentlemen, are you here for a tour?”
“No, they were just leaving,” Skye insisted, her hand on the door. “Again, I’m so sorry. For everything.”
Hans shot her one of those looks that said they’d discuss this later, but it didn’t contain the same kind of malice she’d seen with former employers. More like mild curiosity. When he disappeared inside, she lingered in the doorway for a moment.
“That’s my solution to our problem,” she muttered, unable to look at them—the ultimate coward. “If you want to talk more, we can, but I’m not going to change my mind.”
Knowing her resolve would shatter if either one of them tried to stop her, she forced herself back into the lobby, legs like stilts as she shuffled over to her new kingdom. After assuring Hans that everything was fine and apologizing a few more times, she plopped herself down in front of that troublesome computer system, determined to figure it out before the end of the day.
Briefly, her eyes darted up to the main doors. Through the tinted glass, she thought she would see Finn and Cole standing there—but they were gone.
And rightly so.
Skye wouldn’t have stuck around either after that disaster.
Her lips quivered and the screen blurred, and there, alone in the lobby, Skye Summers finally let her tears fall.
“Well, that was an absolute trainwreck.”
Finn ordered two coffees before the waitress could even reach their table, knowing full well that no one deserved the dejected wrath of Cole so shortly after, well, what had happened. She nodded and skirted back to the hotel bar. Sighing, Finn unbuttoned his suit jacket, then settled on the rather hard wooden bench on the opposite side of their booth. Through the window beside them, they had a perfect view of Gallery Sens, and in it, the woman they had made cry.
“It did not go according to plan, no,” Finn agreed stiffly, grabbing a packet of sugar and fiddling with it as Cole scowled down at the table, seeming to be forcing himself to take deep, even breaths. “I didn’t want to appear presumptuous and, well, pushy by speaking over her, but perhaps I could have done something to steer the conversation.”
“She’d already made up her mind before we got there,” his friend noted. “I don’t think anything we said today could have changed that, and I seriously doubt our proposal would have gone over well.”
“Perhaps ambushing her on her first day at a new job wasn’t ideal either.”
Cole’s jaw clenched briefly before he glanced out the window. “Well. No. I suppose we could have used more tact.” He huffed. “I need a cigarette.”
“Like I’d let you spiral into that filthy habit.” Finn smiled at the waitress as she dropped off two mugs and a bowl of creamers. Seconds later, she set a pot of cold milk down, but was then out of their hair. All around them, the Seashell View Hotel and Suites buzzed with activity, as it was around the standard check-in time and tourists flocked to Coral Bay’s charming downtown and relatively open, uncluttered public beaches. Finn and Cole, meanwhile, sat in that damn booth with a veritable storm cloud hanging overhead, one that threatened to burst at any moment.
“Well,” Finn muttered as he layered up his coffee with cream and sugar, “we’ll just have to get her back.”
“How?” Cole shook his head. “Skye can be very stubborn when she wants to, and I have no interest in steamrolling over her like her voice doesn’t matter.”
“So, you’re done? You’re giving up on her?” He couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice. While Cole had more to lose with Skye’s decision, Finn, too, wanted to pout and sulk and throw a tantrum. This wasn’t what he wanted. He and Cole had spent time devising the perfect strategy to make everyone happy. Their relationships with Skye would be separate entities, yet one wouldn’t stand above the other. Equal. A partnership in love. They had agreed not to let their friendship suffer. Logistics had been discussed at length. The only thing they hadn’t accounted for was Skye bolting before they could even put the offer on the table.
He should have realized she was so distraught over all this. He should have pushed harder when she stopped answering his calls and texts. He shouldn’t have been so damn cocky in his belief that by the end of the day, it would be all sunshine and roses and naked Skye as far as the eye could see.
“Of course I’m not giving up on her,” Cole snapped. “She’s… I can’t imagine my life without her. But what can we do?”
“We’ll show her that this can work,” Finn said, more determined than ever. “We’ll show her that she doesn’t need to choose, that we can all be happy together. We’ll give her time to collect herself after today, and then…”
Cole’s eyebrows shot up. “And then?”
“And then…” He cleared his throat, mind blank. Finn had no idea. He had been so certain before, with all his ideas and plans, and then, just like that, he had lost her. “I don’t know.”
Slowly, Cole’s expression softened, as though just realizing that he wasn’t the only one hurting here. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I’m not done fighting for her. I feel like I haven’t even started, honestly.”
Finn cocked his head to the side, pleased that his friend had finally seen the light. “What an astute assessment.”
“Fuck off, Finn.”
They grinned at one another, then shifted gears into work mode, armed with an unlimited supply of caffeine and an unfettered view of the woman they both adored.
Operation Win Back Skye was officially a go.
Skye
Skye Summers: A sugar baby no more.
14
Regrets Abound
“Is that the last of them?” Skye Summers watched the herd of former high schoolers—according to their IDs—push through the main doors of Gallery Sens, chatting just as animatedly as they had when they first arrived. However, when they had strolled into the sex museum two hours earlier, full of
giggles and whispers, they’d been much more intolerable. Now that they’d had a chance to see what was inside, their tune had changed for the better.
In her first month as the front desk and museum admissions attendant, Skye had realized that was the case with most. Sex was still such a taboo topic, even in the age of free porn and celebrity sex tapes. Most visitors under the age of forty arrived all aquiver, like they were doing something naughty by visiting Coral Bay’s infamous sex show.
However, once they went through the exhibits and realized this was a place to learn and appreciate the history of human sexuality, they usually left with the same energy as those high schoolers: subdued but interested.
Hans Timmons, museum/gallery owner and boss extraordinaire, nodded at her question without looking up. He was rather particular about how the brochures were arranged at the back of the front desk cube, and even though Skye had a month of experience under her belt, apparently she still couldn’t get them right.
“They were quite loud, weren’t they?” he muttered as he shuffled a few stacks of brochures around, then straightened up with a smile. “But we’re done for the day. Why don’t you count down? I’m sure you have somewhere more exciting to be.”
“One can dare to dream,” she said with a chuckle. Skye had nothing waiting for her after her eight-hour shift but a certain fluffy white cat and leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. Oh, and Fear Factor. The TV gods had revived the program, which she had watched religiously as a kid, and lately Skye had a thing for reality shows featuring people who were more of a mess than she was.
After balancing her cash till, chatting amicably with Hans as she worked, Skye stepped aside and let him confirm her numbers. When he finished, the pair tidied up the front desk area, and she ended her day by sweeping the lobby. There weren’t many big bosses out there who would take the time to help their lowliest employees clean their station, but Hans did. Every day, without fail, he usually hung around for the last ten minutes of her shift. At first Skye had thought he was micromanaging—until she learned he did it with every employee, and used the time to find out how their day had gone. It was why the fifteen employees who staffed the museum had staggered clock-out times—and any work problems were addressed almost immediately.
