“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”
“I know I’d rather live poor than do what he did.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“It may not be, but this is my life.”
“You’ve always planned to take over Redmond Enterprises. You’ve planned everything around it.”
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy.”
“So that’s why you’re in St. Louis.”
“I’m coming home.” Tears sting my eyes, and I do my best not to cry. I’ve cried enough the last couple of days. It’s hard realizing that your future is changing, that you put too much hope in things and people that had the power to destroy your plans. It’s heartbreaking. My throat threatens to close, and I stop in the middle of the room, looking up to the low ceiling, willing myself to be strong, but the tears refuse to stay back, falling in rivulets down my cheeks.
Saying home doesn’t even have the same feel to it any longer now that I have no real place to land. New York City has always been home; Redmond Enterprises always my future but Dad managed to destroy that. More than a hundred times I’ve wished I could’ve just remained blissfully ignorant to the whole affair, blind to what was going on.
I pull my suitcase from the closet before heading into the bathroom to pack the toiletries. The job with Blackbridge was going to be the one thing I was hoping to have on my resume, the one thing I could do on my own to help start a new foundation for my future. One night of bad decisions managed to set that on fire, but I refuse to go home with my tail tucked between my legs. I’m resilient. I’ll go back to my apartment, regroup, and think of the next couple of steps.
“Are you still there?”
I clear my throat, praying she won’t be able to hear the emotions clogging my throat. I’ll have time to sob later after I end the call. “I’m here, just getting my stuff together.”
“I think you should call Mom.”
I stare at the phone like Chelsea can see me, the tears now steady rivers down my face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Anger is good. Anger is a sure way to dry the tears.
“I’m not. I think you’ll be surprised. I bet Mom already knows. I bet she doesn’t even care.”
“I am not going to be the one to tell the woman her husband has been having an affair for fifteen years, Chels. It’s not my place.”
“Maybe not.”
“It’s not. Dad said he loved her. That’s ten times worse. It’s not just loneliness or sex.” I shudder at the thought. No child should have to even have notions of parents and sex in their heads. “Love. I’ve never even heard that word and them in the same sentence.”
“Maybe it’ll blow over.”
“Blow over? Are you listening to yourself? There’s nothing to blow over. It’s been going on for years. It’ll continue. Dad and Margaret seem quite content to just go on living this alternate life right under Mom’s nose, and you know what, let them, but I’m not going to be a part of it. I told him I quit. I won’t be going back.”
“Then Mom’s going to know. What are you going to tell her when she finds out?”
“How is she going to find out? It’s not like she’s going to come to the office or check the financials.”
I shove my toiletry bag into my suitcase with so much force it moves one of the heels I was wearing last night out. I bend to pick it up from the floor just as a knock hits the door.
“Not now!” I say.
“If not now, then when?” Chelsea asks. “She’s going to be upset even more if—”
“Not you. Housekeeping is knocking.”
“Oh. But seriously with Mom, you know how she gets. If you don’t—”
More knocking.
“Come back later!”
“Insistent, aren’t they?”
I huff, turning to drop the shoe back into the suitcase.
“I’ll deal with Mom when the time comes. She has no control over my life.”
I spin around to give housekeeping hell when I hear the electronic whir of a keycard in the door.
“Leighton?”
“Chelsea, I have to go.”
“What’s—”
I press the button on my phone to end the call because housekeeping isn’t standing in my damn room. It’s the man who was in here less than twelve hours ago.
Chapter 5
Gaige
The sultry woman from last night is gone, and so is the scent of sex from her room. The bed however is still rumpled, the red dress discarded in the exact spot on the floor when she shoved it down her hips. My eyes dart to it. Instead of running to it in shame, she stiffens her spine, nose raising a little higher in the air, and good for her.
Honestly, she looks a little bored with me standing in front of her. She doesn’t look agitated or irate for me using a key I have no business using, but then I really look at her, noticing the redness around her eyes, the small imperfection in her makeup.