Found in Us (Lost 2)

It takes all I have not to slap him. "Screw you, Parker."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jessica

I storm out of the office building a few seconds later. Parker has the good sense not to follow me. I wander block after block and don't stop until my feet sting like hell—an unmistakable sign of blisters in the making. I lean on the wall of a very old building and take off my shoes, letting my feet cool on the concrete, and then I start crying. Passersby watch me, some with fear, some with pity, and some with a mix of both. I couldn't care less. Let them watch. Let them see what someone who's been slapped in the face by life and hope looks like. When I've cried myself out, I take a cab and go home.

To my astonishment, Dani isn't asleep when I enter the apartment, though it must be past one o'clock. She sits on the couch, watching TV, with a large bucket of ice cream in her lap.

"You look awful," she says.

"Parker sucks," I offer as an explanation.

"I'm sorry," Dani says.

"Me too."

She holds up her bucket with both hands and a smile. "Ice cream?"

"Sorry, I've never been the kind of girl to stuff myself with ice cream and chocolate to forget about an asshole. Tequila shots have always been the poison of my choice. Fewer calories, more of a knock-out factor."

Dani chuckles, her dark brown eyes lighting. "Glad to see nothing can beat your sense of humor."

I grin, but then my lips falter into a grimace. "The realization that today is Wednesday just did. I can't knock myself out for another two days." I eye her bucket of ice cream. "I'm getting myself a spoon."

We eat ice cream and watch two episodes of—ironically—a detective series.

"This sucks," I announce when our bucket is empty. "I'm not feeling better at all. I feel like I'm going to have a sore throat tomorrow. Whoever invented the ice cream and chocolate rule clearly hasn't had tequila."

Something inside me tells me I'm wrong. Because not all girls are the same. Good girls find solace in chocolate and ice cream. Bad girls don't look for solace at all. They look for fun and excitement, and that can be found at the bottom of a tequila shot. But bad girls also create damage that can lead to getting an innocent man fired. Damage that ensures no matter how much I try, I can't just erase all the things I did.

I learned a new and painful lesson tonight. Bad girls don't make good girlfriends.

"Let's go to bed," Dani says, and I nod.

I slip under my covers, wondering how I'll function at work tomorrow. I'm tired, but I don't want to sleep. I toss in my bed for hours, angry at Parker and the world. But mostly at myself. If I had had an immaculate past, it would be so easy to label Parker as a stalking creep and move on. But given that I didn’t, how can I really blame him for wanting to know exactly how much damage anything from my past could do, if it fell in the wrong hands? His credibility is almost as important as his business skills. I rewind the conversation with him again and again until I come to the root of what really bothers me. I'm afraid he'll come to believe I'm not good enough for him.

In the darkness, I search for my phone and light up the screen. Nothing. No message or missed call from him. I try to calm my racing heart, telling myself it's normal that he hasn't. I did just walk out on him after all.

But what if it's more? What if he took that file, went through it again, and realized just how much trouble I am? He could have anyone with a squeaky clean past. He could have any woman he wants—more beautiful than me, smarter.

I curl into a fetal position, clutching my pillow in my arms. This empty feeling after being dumped is familiar. But I can’t lose Parker. I love him, damn it.

I drum my fingers nervously on my bed, the need for nicotine stronger than it's been in weeks. I sit up straight in my bed, thinking about searching for a cigarette pack. Why shouldn't I smoke? The thought of a distant future without Parker in it seems like a poor repayment for denying myself some relief right now. I start to stand but then make myself sit back on the bed. No, I won't do this. I feel a tear at the corner of my eye and quickly wipe it away. I refuse to let myself jump to any conclusions. I will wait for him to call. Maybe he still wants to make those years down the road worth it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Parker

Bad timing. This is what goes through my mind the entire day as I listen to Gordon and the rest of the team from N.P.T. Enterprises drag on and on. As far as negotiations go, I can already tell this is going to be the dodgiest deal I'll ever make. Partly because Blakesley Enterprises in itself is a bad deal, no matter how much I try to convince them of the opposite. And partly because my mind is somewhere else. I should be somewhere else, period.

The discussions are taking place in my office, and behind Gordon, I have a direct view to the shelf where her damn folder is. I can't believe I actually said the words gold digger last night. I'm surprised she didn't punch me. I would've punched me. I didn't want to follow or call her last night because we were both angry, and angry discussions never lead to anything good. I thought I'd better let her calm down. I see now that was a mistake. At the rate this is going, I'll be stuck with Gordon's

team until long after midnight, and tomorrow will be the same story. I can hardly send her a message. What can I say? Sorry I've been an arse, talk to you in two days? I can't get out of the meeting long enough to have a real conversation with her over the phone, either.

“The assets of Blakesley Enterprises are simply not worth that much," Gordon says.

"You are a smart man, Gordon. You know very well the brand name wipes out the competition."