“You stupid, awful—” I let out a yell of anger.
Of all the well-meaning but useless things people said to me the years after I escaped my father, “everything happens for a reason” was the one I hated above all else. Everything did not happen for a reason. Sometimes horrible things happened to people who didn’t deserve it, for no reason at all. The terrible experience didn’t make them stronger, and it didn’t make them happier. It just made them miserable.
“Fuck her,” I snarled.
I should just throw the cupcake away, but I hated the thought of wasting food after never having enough of it.
If people actually lived in my building on a regular basis, I’d see if a neighbor wanted it, but Lexi was right. I was alone.
And that’s how I liked it.
15
LEXI
When I came into the office, there was a note wedged between the cushion of the stool and the frame:
This is a toxic positivity free workplace. That means you, Lexi Collins.
“Oh my god,” McKenna said slowly as she peered over my shoulder and saw Grayson Richmond’s name at the top of the creamy-white stationery. “Oh my freaking—”
“Shhh!” I hissed at her.
“He’s writing you notes. Are you having an affair?”
“Of course not! I have standards,” I said primly.
“You sleep on a cot in my grandmother’s studio apartment. The place smells like a terrarium.”
“I’m going to take Gizzy for his steam shower today,” I said, feeling bad.
Three people and a five-foot-long iguana was a lot to have in a small studio apartment. I was glad to have found McKenna on Facebook Marketplace looking for a roommate. Most people did not take pets, especially not exotic ones. I didn’t want to make her regret letting me live there.
“I can’t believe Mr. Richmond hasn’t found out.”
“He’s not as smart as people say he is. God doesn’t give with both hands, you know. He can’t be handsome and smart. Shoot, I could probably start living there and he wouldn’t even notice.”
There wasno note on the door to his penthouse that afternoon.
Gizzy draped over my shoulder, I hurried upstairs to the spa room, pausing to let the iguana gaze out over the city to get a glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean.
“See? It’s almost like Florida.”
In case you missed it, yes, this penthouse had its own spa, sauna, and Japanese-styleonsencomplete with real rock on the walls and floor. It also had a steam shower that I knew Mr. I-Have-More-Money-Than-Brain-Cells never used.
Or at least I was pretty sure he didn’t. He hadn’t removed any of the notes I’d placed there over the past few months, so I figured Gizzy and I were safe.
I set out a small plastic beach umbrella and some palm fronds I’d swiped from the dumpster outside of a hotel that had hosted a 1930s-themed wedding.
“Think Florida thoughts,” I told Gizzy as I set the temperature for the steam shower.
The iguana paused, flicked his tongue out, then happily stretched out in the warm, humid air.
I left him to bask in the humidity then wandered through the penthouse to look for Mr. Pessimism’s responses to my notes.
“Pfft! You will watch a Disney movie one of these days,” I said, responding to his note above the fireplace.
In the kitchen, the cupcake still sat on its plate on the counter. Propped up on it was a note with three words.
