“I didn’t sleep much.”
I lean back in my chair, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. The stubble rasps against my palm. I should have shaved. I should have had more coffee before this meeting. I should’ve done a hundred things differently, starting with the moment I made Avery feel like her feelings don’t matter.
This ismyworld. I know how it works. You don’t.
Jesus, I deserve to feel like shit today.
Beck is still watching me, his eyes steady with the true concern of a friend. “You want to tell me what happened between you and Avery last night?”
Normally, I’d brush it off and change the subject. I’m not accustomed to baring my soul to anyone. Other than Avery, that is. But next to her, Beck is my closest friend. Even if I try to dodge the question, he already knows I’ve fucked up with her.
"I made things worse." The admission scrapes out of me. "After you left last night, Avery and I argued again."
“About the Rennick thing?”
I nod, then shrug. "Not just about the article. About me, about the way I like to control things.”
“Ah.” Beck lifts his chin in understanding.
“I raised my voice at her." Even now, hours later, the memory turns my stomach. "I shouted at her and she flinched, Beck. She stepped back from me like—"
Like I was someone to fear. Like the safety she's always found in my arms had cracked, just for a moment, and she glimpsed something underneath that frightened her.
I don't have to finish the sentence. Beck has already followed my train of thought and can guess how things went from where I left off.
"I slept in the guest room."
His expression shifts, goes solemn now. He understands the weight of what I've just said. He’s aware of how my relationship with Avery evolved, and how it eventually imploded in Paris. He knows the hell for me that followed, a year of separation from her that nearly destroyed me.
He knows how hard I fought to win her back. How I vowed I’d never let anything come between us ever again.
I see all of that knowledge in the sympathetic look he’s giving me. "Then fix it, Nick. It’s not too late. We can call off the dogs on Rennick. Do what she asked."
"And invite every bottom-feeder in the city to take their shot?" I shake my head. He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’ve been considering that same solution since last night,but I keep coming to the same conclusion. "If I back down now, it signals weakness. Every competitor with a grudge will know that Dominic Baine can be pressured through the people he loves."
“All right, say that happens. We’ve got the resources and the influence to take anyone on who tries to come at you or Avery again.”
Ugly memories surface as I imagine the headlines that could eviscerate me. This is one area Andrew Beckham is not privy to about my life. No, those scars are too hard to show to anyone except Avery.
“I’m doing what I need to do,” I mutter. “Don’t take your foot off the gas with Rennick.”
Beck’s mouth purses as he considers my order, but he doesn’t say anything.
I pull the agreement toward me and flip through the pages. “Where’d we leave off with this?”
He goes back to reviewing the terms, and I go back to acting like any of it matters. A few minutes later, my assistant knocks on the door. At my response, Lily peeks her head in.
“Sorry to interrupt. Nick, the St. Regis needs your final authorization on a few things for the fundraiser gala. They’re holding everything open, of course, but they say they were expecting your sign-off yesterday.”
Ah, shit. With everything that happened yesterday with the article and the fallout afterward, the last thing on my mind was the Chelsea recreation center event. Avery and I have been personally involved in the planning of the gala for months. Now it’s a week out.
Even this feels inconvenient and hollow today.
“Sorry, Lily. Will you send me that electronic signature link again?”
“Already did.” She gives me a soft smile. “It should be waiting in your in-box.”
“Great. Tell them it’ll be on the way in a few minutes.”
