Not great—nowhere near as amazing as this donut—but not bad.
I set it down, finish my donut, and grab another one while I open my phone.
An unsurprising number of text messages need to be answered, but I prioritize the one from my boss—yes, family emergency, I’ll be back next week, I tell her in response to her question about if I’m okay—and several from Bea that were clearly sent before I called her on Sunday afternoon.
Phone back, you should do donuts for your next secret menu item, I text her.
Oliver doesn’t attempt to look at my phone, but he does start to twitch in the face again.
I sniff my pits, decide I can go a day without a shower, and finish off the second donut. “Let me brush my teeth and I’ll be ready to go.”
And then—then we’ll see if his change in attitude is real or if it’s all a ploy.
15
SHE’S NOT WHO SHE USED TO BE
Oliver
Despite the havocwatching Daphne eat those donuts played on my hormones, it’s easier to breathe on the road today without the crushing weight of her pissed silence yesterday.
I’ve made a peace offering.
It’s been accepted.
Honestly, it was accepted easier than I expected it to be.
She could’ve—should’ve—held out for more than donuts and coffee and me fumbling through trying to apologize after four years of having it hammered into me that CEOs don’t apologize for anything.
And now I have to figure out how to convince her she wants to stay in the car with me for another few days without making her suspicious about my intentions or angry that I’m keeping her from her regularly scheduled life or provoking any other unpleasant reaction she might have.
That was another hard thing about being CEO of M2G.
How Ifeltabout letting someone down or making someone mad.
Those radio talk show hosts yesterday—they thought I had some master plan with the charities and initiatives I invested profits into.
I didn’t.
It was the only part of my plans that I didn’t fully consult with my executive assistant for, and the only part of my plans that she cautioned me could turn out to be a bad idea. Throwing profits away is one thing when you’re investing in expansion. It’s dicier when you’re not expecting a return on investment at all.
But I needed to do something worthwhile and meaningful at a time when all of the bad was crushing me. I needed to know there was a bigger purpose than making as much money as possible through gasoline and convenience store junk food and knickknacks.
Bonus that my father hated my methods.
Unfortunately, a lot of other people did too, and they had no qualms in telling me I was fucking up. Even when they didn’t tell me, I could sense it.
That they thought I was a dumbass nepo baby who was only in the role because my family has the majority share of the company’s stock.
I roll my shoulders and try to let it go. It doesn’t matter anymore.
I’m free.
In the middle of nowhere.
With an unexpected travel companion whom I’d like to have fun with today.
“You can change the station,” I tell Daphne after we’ve stopped at another ValuKart to get more essentials for both of us, including another pair of jeans and three more relaxed shirts for me, and for her, more underwear that I’m actively not thinking about, two pairs of shorts, a package of socks, three T-shirts with jokes I don’t fully understand, a hairbrush, shampoo,conditioner, a bag of Halloween candy—hell if I know why it’s in stores in August—and two gossip magazines from the checkout counter, plus a root beer from the fast-food restaurant inside the ValuKart.
