I wiped at my face, smearing my makeup.
“I was just the assistant to the assistant to the secretary. I picked up my boss’s dry cleaning and cleared out his fridge and ordered food for meetings. I never so much as coughed on a marketing campaign, and I wasn’t making any money, and I wasn’t up for a promotion, and that fancy penthouse didn’t belong to the company. It belonged to Grayson. Who was my boss. Because I was sleeping with my boss. And then he fired me.”
My mother’s nostrils flared.
“I am appalled, Lexi. I cannot believe that.”
My dad looked furious.
“I know! I’m sorry I wasted your money. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I’m a failure.” I doubled over, sobbing.
“Oh, Lexi.” My mom gathered me into her arms. “I’m not mad at you. That Grayson—”
“I’m glad I didn’t take him fishing.” My dad clenched his fist.
“It’s not his fault.” I wiped my nose with my sleeve.
“Of course it is,” my dad declared.
“Hey!” he yelled to the pilot. “When is the next flight? I’m going to Manhattan to give that man a piece of my mind.”
“Dad, don’t,” I begged.
“He can’t treat you like that.”
“I think he and I were both toxic.”
“You’re not toxic,” my mother scoffed. “You’re always nice to everyone. You bake people muffins, leave thoughtful notes, you’re helpful, and you give compliments.”
“I think I overstepped with Grayson,” I admitted.
“Hogwash. I don’t believe it.”
“I convinced him it was a good idea to go visit his father in prison.”
“Yikes,” my dad said after a moment. “You mean the one who kidnapped all those girls?”
“I thought I was being helpful, but he was so angry, and then …” I gestured helplessly. “Things just imploded.”
“You were trying to do the right thing,” my mom said gently. “That didn’t give him the right to fire you.”
My dad handed me a Kleenex.
“I might have told him in the heat of the moment that he was just like his dad and it was no wonder his mom never loved him,” I said with a wince, hating myself for taking Grayson’s biggest insecurity, information he’d entrusted me with, told me in confidence, and used it as a weapon against him. It was the very definition of a low blow.
“Double yikes,” Dad said with a grimace.
“That wasn’t very nice,” my mom chastised.
“I didn’t mean it! I really loved him,” I admitted sadly. “And I screwed it up. I should have just left his past alone. Because now he hates me.”
64
GRAYSON
It was Tuesday again. I stared up at the plaster ceiling in Marius’s prewar co-op. A weight rested heavy on my chest.
The face of a cat appeared in my vision.
