“A while, I’d expect.”
“Yes, and do you know what my job was before?”
“What?”
“Handling complaint calls from angry grocery store owners who didn’t get their shipments of hot dogs on time.”
“Not your dream job, I guess?”
“Not by a long shot. I don’t even eat that crap. I quit my corporate hellhole of a job and sank most of my funds into this venture. I want to do this show, Ineedto do this show, and I’m thrilled the producers chose me. I would never walk off the set like some sort of backlot diva. Or Trent.”
“What happens with him now?”
“I was sort of hoping he might fall off the nearest cliff.”
“Emily, can I be brutally honest with you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“You dodged a bullet.”
“Thank you, but did I really dodge it? It doesn’t feel that way. So many things make sense now. His moods. His ambivalence. I saw the signs but I thought he might be depressed. I thought it was my job to help him through it and he treated me like dirt. I should have walked away long ago.”
“You loved him. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help others through bad times. Unfortunately, some of them don’t deserve our help.”
She quietly searched his eyes. “I hope you don’t think I’m a fool.”
“No. Trent’s the fool.” If anything, the only thing Emily had been guilty of was forgiving too easily, but Michael didn’t necessarily consider it a fault.
Michael, however, didn’t forgive and forget quite so easily. There might be a lot of good people in the world, but he knew for a fact there were just as many bad ones.
The dull throb at the back of his head flared into a pain that sliced through his temple. He cursed under his breath as he was struck by a flashback.
Jane Ashton, collapsed in the corner of her living room, a gunshot wound in her chest.
Her ex, wielding a gun, his hand shaky.
The children from her daycare, rounded up in a corner, screaming.
The blood…
“Michael, are you okay? You just went white.”
He looked up, and for a second didn’t recognize the blonde woman sitting next to him. Michael took a deep breath and his pulse resumed its beat. Emily Daniels.Handymen. Dickweed fiancé.
Right. He was okay.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just…I get headaches here and there.”
“Is it because you haven’t been sleeping well?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to get you something?”
“No, thanks.” He grabbed his jacket from the side of the loveseat and produced the bottle of Tylenol. “I came prepared. Do you mind if I grab some water?”
She jumped off the loveseat and headed into the kitchen to fill a glass. She returned and gave it to him and he popped a couple of pills, downing them with some water.
