“You can’t just leave. Where are you even going to go?”
I didn’t answer, mostly because I didn’t know.
My parents were halfway around the world on their retirement cruise. My sister was in Texas with a new baby of her own.
I pushed past him, heading for the door. He grabbed my arm, and I whirled on him with such anger that he stepped back.
“Touch me again and I swear to God, Jack, I will make you regret it.”
He raised his hands in surrender, but his expression was shifting from shock to anger to something different. Did I really know this man?
“Fine. Leave me for all you care! But don’t come crying back when you realize you have nowhere to go. You need me, Paige. Who will look after Lily?”
The words hit like a slap, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
“Anyone but you,” I snapped, walking out of the apartment with nothing but my daughter in my arms and her bag without looking back.
The tears didn’t start until I was in my car.
I sat in the parking garage, Lily’s carrier secured in the back seat, and let myself fall apart for exactly two minutes.
Yes, I put the timer on.
I silently sobbed until the anger and sadness melted away into the disappointment of reality. I couldn’t cry forever. I had to provide shelter and food for my baby.
So I wiped my face with the back of my hand, started the engine, and drove.
I had no destination in mind. Just away. Away from Jack and his lies and the wreckage of everything I had thought my life would be. The city lights blurred past my windshield, and I blinked hard to clear my vision.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder. Jack, probably, with more excuses or accusations or whatever toxic thing he had decided to throw at me next. I ignored it.
I had only five percent battery left, and I hadn’t brought my phone charger with me from the office. The one at home was on the nightstand—home?
Is it even my home now?
It wasn’t until I pulled up to the familiar high-rise that I realized where my subconscious had been steering me all along.
Derek’s building. His place.
Instead of a hotel.
I stared up at the sleek glass tower, my hands still gripping the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.
This is insane.
Derek was my boss.
Yes, we had been friends back when we were kids running wild through the neighborhood, but that was a lifetime ago. Now he was Mr. Peterson. A successful attorney, bachelor, and I was his assistant who organized his dry cleaning and scheduled his revolving door of dates.
Speaking of which, he had a date that night. I had put it on his calendar myself that morning, teasing him about which Michelin-star restaurant I should book.
I remembered his smug smile when he leaned over to flick my forehead. “Don’t be jealous, Paige-bear. I’d take you to dinner instead, if you ask me.”
I had stuck my tongue out at him in response. I had hated the word Paige-bear ever since we were kids, so he never stopped calling me that.
But he had dinner at eight with a woman named Alessandra. A supermodel.
I should leave. Maybe call Sean—no, he was traveling with his girlfriend Chelsea.
