I take her hand in mine. “What job is that?” Brows knitted, I glance between the two of them. I only just got her and now I’m losing her. It’s like Leoni all over again. My chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe.
“It’s her dream job, working at Chambre Rose Publishing House in London.” He faces Joy, pointing a finger in her direction. “I pulled a lot of strings to get you this position. You won’t get another chance.”
“Dad, I didn’t ask you to do that. I already told you, I like it here. I have friends here and…” She gulps as she glances at me. “And I have Nick. I don’t want to move.”
Her dad speaks through gritted teeth. “The salary is double what he pays you.”
Guilt claws at my neck. She’s turning down her dream job for me. I can’t offer her anything but a pile of debt. She won’t even have a job come January.
I squeeze her hand. “Maybe you should think about it, sweetheart.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you.” Her dad points a finger at me. “You were at the bank.”
The pulse in my neck races. “You work at the bank?” I glance at Joy. “You didn’t tell me your dad works at the bank.”
“Dad’s an investment banker. He doesn’t work at just one branch.”
“I recognise you now, Mr Twist.” If he knows my name and saw me at the bank, he must know my situation. “Tell her she needs to take this job.”
I grit my teeth. He’s right, but it hurts like a motherfucker. I should be able to provide for her. I can’t even provide for myself. With a heavy heart, I release Joy’s hand.
“Dad. I love you, but I’ve made my mind up. There’s no need to bring Nick into this. Can we talk about this another time?” Joy takes two steps towards her dad and pecks him on the cheek.
“He can’t offer you anything, pudding.” He straightens his jacket. “Tell her, Twist.”
Joy’s blue eyes lose their lustre as she looks between us. “Tell me what?”
My throat closes up. I can’t tell her I’m selling the business. She loves that shop as much as I do. “Your dad has a point.” I glare at her dad. He’s right, but I hate how he’s forcing me to break her heart like this.
He puffs out his chest with a swell of pride. “Of course I do.” He leans over, giving Joy a kiss on the forehead. “I have to get going, pudding, I have a meeting lined up at the local branch.” He strides to the door, giving me a final glare or warning.
Joy bites her lip, waving him off. When he’s closed the door, her nose wrinkles. “I’m so sorry about that.” She lifts on her tiptoes to peck my lips. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not leaving.”
My hand runs through my damp hair as I step away from her. “I think you should consider the job offer.”
“Ugh. Not you as well.” She folds her arms over her chest.
I pace the small space. “There’s nothing here for you, Joy. You’ve seen my accounts. I can’t offer you anywhere near what this publishing house can.”
Her eyes water. A wrinkle forms between her brows. “What about us?”
My already fractured heart breaks in two. I dip my head, not able to look her in the eye. If she has any hope of us working, she’ll never take the job. She’ll come to resent me. Her dad already hates me. “There’s nous, Joy.”
She chokes on a sob, gasping for breath. When I look up, tears stream down her plump cheeks. “But last night? I thought—”
With my hands tucked in my pockets, balled into fists, I shrug a shoulder, trying to act casual. “Last night was fun.”
She wipes her face with her dressing gown. “Why are you doing this? I thought you were different.”
I step farther away from her, keeping my hands in my trousers. I don’t trust myself not to reach for her. “You can take some time off. No need to work your notice. Use the time to move house and do whatever you need.”
“You’re firing me as well?” More tears drip onto her rosy cheeks.
I grab my hoodie from the back of the sofa. “I’m letting you go.” With lead weights in my shoes, I force my feet towards the door before my aching heart overrules my head. I have to do what’s best for her and as much as I hate it, her dad’s right.
I open the front door and turn my head back to her. My little star has never looked so lacklustre. Seeing her light dim has me gasping in the chilled air, but before I close her door, I manage to choke out the words, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
24
