“Sure.” I don’t remember shit.
“It’s gonna be more of a work-and-pleasure thing, and it’s coming up in two weeks!” Her eyes flick up suggestively. “Such a fun opportunity. Prettiest water on the planet. You can post stuff from there without any people and still get ten thousand likes on Insta.”
“Yeah. I get why you’re pumped,” I lie.
“It’s agorgeoushotel, all expenses paid. You know the five-star resorts where they pamper you all day long?”
“Yep.” Been there, done that. Luxury overload gets old fast.
“But there’s one little problem.” She pushes out her lip in an exaggerated pout. “It’s lonely. Wouldn’t it be so nice to have someone with?”
Obviously, I know what she’s trying to do—I’d have to be blind to miss it—but no.
No fucking way.
There isno wayI’m flying out there willingly for some kind of pre-proposal BS trip where she’ll probably be expecting a ring. Even if all expenses are paid.
I can afford to pay for my own luxury travel, and when I do, it won’t be some sparkling hotel rising from Pacific paradise like a fairy-tale castle.
I open an email from the lab I’m working with and say bluntly, “Maybe you should ask one of your friends.”
“They’re busy,” she rushes out. “Don’t you think it would better if—”
“That’s a shame,” I cut her off. “Hopefully you’ll have a fun time solo.”
“Brady! It would beso muchbetter with my boyfriend.”
My face hurts from the effort it takes not to wince.
Goddamn, she’s relentless.
Silence is my answer. I hope it pisses her off enough to take the hint and walk away, but that feels too easy.
“I washoping,” she says, layering so much emphasis on the word I almost cringe, “thatyou’dcome with me.”
There it is.
Shot between the eyes.
I hoped she wouldn’t outright ask, when I’m clearly not interested, but now that she has, this won’t end well.
“You know I have work, Nance. Critical phase with the lab working on the formula.” I gesture at my screen. “They’re almost ready with some new test samples. I have to be around to see how that goes.”
Almost immediately, her eyes glaze over. The second I mention details, she switches off.
“You always have work,” she says bitterly.
“All part of the process. Nobody ever said start-ups are easy.” I stare at her, wondering why I bother to take the edge off. “It won’t always be like this. Once we’re in the pilot phase, I might be able to take my foot off the gas a little before the full launch. But that’s a year out at least.”
“A whole year,” she echoes miserably. “All for fucking dog food.”
“Scientifically formulated, ethically sourced, organic, and affordable for the masses, thank you.” I flash her an exaggerated smile, beaming it through the knives etched on her face.
Work is an excuse to get out of a trip to hell, but it’s alsotrue.
“What did I do to you?” she asks sharply.
“What?”
