Understatement of the century. Her palms itched at just the thought of the day before. Of Betsy and the things she’d written.
“It won’t happen again. That’s why I’m here.” He sat forward, obviously calculating something about her, moving to just outside her personal-space bubble. Not invasive or anything. Actually, the proximity was nice. Professional, yet she could still catch the scent of his cologne—tea leaves, cedar, and vanilla.
Why couldn’t he smell like bologna sandwiches or something? He had everything else going for him. Did he have to smell amazing, too?
She toyed with her fingers before pressing them against her knees.Do it, April. Rip off the bandage. Follow the footwear slogan and “Just do it.”
“How do you want to do this?” she asked, squaring her shoulders. “Void my contract. What are the steps?”
The question seemed to surprise him. For the barest of moments, he broke his facade. The one she’d bought into of him being totally in control.
“Why would I void your contract?” he asked, slowly.
“Because I screwed up everything with the video and then it went…” She let out a long stream of air. “Well, we both know what happened then.”
He paused. Shifted. Paused again.
She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the way his lips parted and closed.
“Do you understand just how much money our firm has put into your launch?” he asked.
She didn’t. Not really. She had a hunch, of course, because she paid attention. It wasn’t a little amount of money.
“I convinced Ben and the board to go all in on you.” He shifted, holding her hostage with his eyes again. “And do you know why I did that?”
She shook her head because, to be honest, she really didn’t.
“Because I believe in you.” He enunciated the words.
Then he was a liar. She wasn’t sure why he would lie about this, but she didn’t believe him. He had no reason to believe in her.
“You barely know me,” she said, picking at another dog hair. This fabric was like a freaking magnet.
“I believe in what you can be.” He seemed serious. How could he be serious about this?
Because even she didn’t have any idea what she could be. Not really. Not anymore. She brushed off his words as a line he was using to pacify her to get whatever it was he wanted. He had to have an angle here.
“You don’t believe me,” he said with as much confidence as before. “We’ll have to work on that.”
“Work on me believing you?” Because she didn’t. Other than her closest friends, she didn’t believe most people these days. Her post-divorce trust issues were definitely still raging.
He nodded. “You’ll get there.” He sat up straight, his button-down white dress shirt stretching over his pectorals. “First, we’re going to get you to believe in yourself.”
April would not acknowledge what that declaration did to her insides. Spoiler: it felt nice.
“In the meantime,” Jack said, “I’ve got some thoughts on things we can do to help bring back that calm confidence I know you still have.”
“My confidence is shot.” So very shot.
“I’ve got a statement I worked up with the team. You’ll read it on your blog and on an Instagram video. Then they’ll handle the replies.”
Er… “What kind of a statement?”
“Accept responsibility that things went wrong and deflect right into neutral territory. Then get going on that confidence boost. It’s still there, and we’re going to find it. But we’re going to need to work closely together while we do.”
Uh…
“We have been working together.” They had. She’d talked to his staff daily. She’d communicated with him weekly—sometimes by phone, sometimes by email.
