Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“He might be grumpy for a while,” I said with a light laugh, “but he’ll get over it. I’m just glad I got him to the hospital when I did. He was so disoriented—he might have hurt himself worse at home.”
“Thank you so much, Raina. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.” Hazel paused. “I hope you weren’t too late for your meeting.”
“Well…”
“Uh-oh. What happened?”
I hesitated, then found myself telling the story again. Abbreviated this time, stripped down to the essential facts, but no less painful for the brevity.
“Oh, Raina,” Hazel breathed when I finished. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I kept my voice firm, even as my heart ached. “Simon overreacted, and that’s on him. No business meeting is more important than my brother.” I paused, thinking of Miles waking up confused and hurting, learning that his sister had lost her job because of him. “Speaking of which—don’t tell Miles about this, okay? He’d just feel guilty, and I don’t want that. I want him to focus on getting better.”
Hazel promised, and I ended the call.
Wren had selected a slasher film that boasted an impressive body count and truly abysmal acting, and she’d somehow produced a bowl of popcorn while I wasn’t looking. She patted the cushion beside her, and I sank back into the couch, letting the mindless gore wash over me.
As I sat there in my best friend’s living room, with her grumpy cat glaring at me from across the room and fake blood splashing across the screen, something in my chest loosened just slightly.
I didn’t have a job anymore. I might not have a boyfriend—though honestly, I wasn’t sure what Simon and I had been to begin with. But I had people who cared about me. People who would show up with wine and baseball bats and terrible movies when everything fell apart.
Whatever came next, I wouldn’t have to face it alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Simon
The following morning I walked toward my office, my gaze drawn immediately to Raina’s desk. Except it wasn’t Raina’s desk anymore. It was just a piece of furniture now, stripped of the small touches that had made it uniquely hers. The ceramic cat pencil holder was gone. The tiny succulent that she’d fussed over every morning had vanished. Even the faint scent of her perfume, that subtle sweetness I’d grown so accustomed to, had faded overnight.
I swallowed back the hard knot in my throat. I’d had assistants come and go since Liam and I founded this company. Some quit. Some I fired. I’d never lost sleep over any of them.
But this was different. This was Raina. My sunshine girl, with her bright smile and gentle warmth and the way she made even the most mundane workday feel lighter. The woman who’d slipped past every wall I’d built without me even realizing it was happening.
And I’d destroyed it. Destroyed us. With accusations rooted in fear and words designed to wound. What a fucking idiot I was.
I walked past her empty desk and into my office, closing the door behind me with a soft click that felt deafening in the silence. The morning light streamed through the windows, golden and warm, but it did nothing to touch the cold weight sitting in my chest.
I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face—the shock when I accused her of working with Chuck and the hurt that flickered across her features before hardening into something worse. The way her chin had lifted when she said I quit. She’d walked away, and she’d taken something vital with her. Something I hadn’t even known I possessed until it was gone.
You did this to yourself.
The thought was brutal and true. I’d spent the entire night replaying that conversation, cataloging every unfair accusation, every moment I’d cut her off before she could explain. I’d been so consumed by my own fear—so certain that history was repeating itself, that I was being betrayed again—that I hadn’t stopped to consider the obvious.
Raina wasn’t Chuck. She wasn’t Carla. She was the woman who brought me coffee without being asked, who remembered my schedule better than I did, who looked at me like I was worth something more than my bank account.
And instead of asking if she was okay, instead of wondering why someone so reliable would suddenly vanish without a word, I’d attacked her. What kind of man did that?
The answer sat heavy in my stomach: a scared one. A man so damaged by past betrayals that he couldn’t recognize loyalty when it was standing right in front of him.
I sank into my chair, but I couldn’t focus. Emails went unread. Reports sat untouched. The work that usually consumed me felt meaningless, overshadowed by the weight of what I’d lost.
How do I fix this?
The question circled my mind endlessly, but I had no answer. I’d never been in this situation before. I’d never cared enough about anyone to have to make amends on this scale. My previous relationships had been shallow by design, easily ended and quickly forgotten. Nothing that required groveling. Nothing that made me feel like I was drowning in my own regret.