“Yeah.”
“And I’m trying to move on,” I added quietly, watching Hayden’s face.
“Move on?” His response was swift and harsh, and the way he looked at me had me pulling back and ducking for cover. It was like I was speaking a foreign language.
Feeling like I had to explain, I tried. “I have to find a new job. A new home. Something to do. As much as it sucks and as much as I loved her, I can’t sit here doing nothing all day. It’s not healthy and it’s not helping anyone.”
“Well, while you’re busy moving on, I’m going to go find the prick who did this and wring their fucking neck.”
What was I supposed to say to that? Hayden was still so angry. I had a really bad feeling that until he got past the anger and made sure the culprit was locked behind bars, he wasn’t going to be able to let it go. Then, I hoped he’d find peace. Cassidy loved him; I had no doubt in my mind how much she loved him. Hell, her and I had spent so many nights sitting in her hotel room talking about the future she wanted and the life she was planning on building with him, starting with this incredible house she wanted to fill with laughter and love, that I hoped one day soon, he’d be able to remember the good times rather than focus on the ending.
Sliding off the stool, I finished my coffee before rinsing my mug. “I’m going to finish packing up her wardrobe. Unless you don't want me to?”
“What are you going to do with it all?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t gotten that far.”
“Donate it.”
“Donate it?”
“Yeah. Give it away. Someone who needs it might as well get some use out of it.”
“You do know there’s designer dresses, handbags, and her shoe collection is to die for? People would pay good money for that stuff,” I reminded him, not sure he really understood the value of her closet.
“I don’t want the money.”
“I get that.”
“You take it.”
“What?” I screeched.
“Take it. Take whatever you want. Wear it. Sell it. I don't really care. None of it’s going to do me any good.”
I’d kill to take home some of those amazing shoes but no amount of wishing was going to squash my stupid big feet into Cass’s sparkly shoes. It was bullshit really. Here I was, being told to help myself to an amazing closet and my boobs weren’t big enough, my hips were too wide and my feet too long. Why couldn’t I just have my goldilocks moment for one second and find something stunning that would fit just right?
Instead of arguing, I thanked him for the coffee and went back to work.
Cleaning out a wardrobe should be easy, but this was anything but. I’d been working with Cassidy for years and with each gown I pulled out, a memory hit me like a ton of bricks. And it wasn’t from the flashy award shows or the charity galas—the memories photographers and camera crews captured. For me it was the moments before the shows. The moments spent laughing and running around looking for a missing earring or a forgotten purse. The one that hit me the hardest was when I pulled out a sparkling silver minidress. We’d fought over this dress for weeks, but on the last night of her tour, I somehow convinced her to give it a go. She was skeptical and I could understand why. There wasn’t a lot to it but the way it hugged her curves and made her already impossibly long legs look even more perfect, she had to try it.
“If I fall down on stage and flash the whole audience my hoo-haa, I’m coming after you, Skye. You hear me?”
“If you fall down on stage, the paparazzi will have a field day and you’ll guarantee you’ll skyrocket to number one on the charts overnight. Don't forget, everyone loves a wardrobe malfunction. Remember Janet’s nip slip?” I assured her, handing her the gorgeous, ridiculously expensive shoes to match.
Actually thinking about those shoes, where were they?
After hanging the dress on the door handle, I fossicked around the bottom of the cupboard looking for them. It wasn’t like I could miss them. The six-inch stiletto heels covered in sparkly silver with a band that wrapped around the ankle and buckled up. They were stunning and they would not be donated. I didn't care if they were one size too small or one hundred sizes too small. They were coming home with me. If only I could find them.
Five frustrated minutes later, I’d pulled all of her shoes out and scattered them around the room, but the sparkly stilettos were nowhere in sight.
“Hayden?” I called out.
A moment later he poked his head around the door, thankfully this time without the gun pointed at my head. “What’s wrong?”
“Did Cassidy keep her stuff anywhere else?”
“Her stuff?”
