“Then we’ll get some air together. Let me close out the tab.”
He waves at the bartender and signals for the check, but I don’t wait. Instead, I careen through the crowd, zigzagging my way to the door. The second I get outside, I realize it wasn’t just the motion of the bodies around me that had me so unsteady on my feet. The ground is tilting. I can barely stay upright.
Staggering a few paces away, I lean against the wood-paneled exterior of the building, giving the bouncer a nod. Beyond him, a red velvet rope holds back a massive line of people waiting to get inside, all of them talking or smoking or staring at their glowing phone screens. I’m about to turn away when I see her. A woman with long, sunny blond hair falling down her slender back, a red dress practically painted onto her perfect body. She’s standing in line with a handsome young guy who’s built like a linebacker, her arms looped around his thick neck.
My heart starts to pound, my adrenaline roaring. It’s her. It’s Blair. And she’s with another man.
He leans down to kiss her, his hands reaching down to cup her ass, and as she tilts her head to kiss him back my vision goes dark at the edges.
A roar escapes me, and I think I can hear Becker calling my name behind me, but I’m already racing toward her and this piece of shit. How dare he take what’s mine? My rage is an inferno.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m barreling into the velvet rope to rip her away from him, pushing the guy on the chest and driving him backward against the wall.
“The fuck?” he curses, pushing me back.
My fingers loop around Blair’s wrist, and as she looks up at me in surprise, I suddenly realize I’ve made a huge mistake.
“You’re not Blair,” I say just as something slams into me and drives me onto the sidewalk.
I’m too drunk to act quickly. My brain knows I screwed up, but my fists are already up, and the linebacker is on me in a blink. Before either of us gets an actual punch in, Becker shoves himself between us, yelling at us to be cool as he pushes us both apart.
The bouncer is involved now, walkie in his hand, asking Becker if he should call the cops.
I don’t know exactly what happens next. One minute we’re on the street, a crowd of onlookers surrounding the ugly scene I’ve caused, Becker pulling wads of cash out to bribe the bouncer into letting Linebacker and his girlfriend into the club, their first round of drinks courtesy of Beck as well. The next minute we’re in a cab that’s pulling to a stop outside my apartment building. Then, Becker’s got me by the arm as he half-drags me out of the car. I stumble up the front steps with my arm looped around his neck, and he helps me punch in the security code to get the entry doors open.
I try to apologize but he cuts me off.
“Forget it. Just go to bed and sleep it off,” he says. “I don’t want to see your face again until you’re sober.”
“Sure, Beck.”
“And I’ll have breakfast sent over in the morning to help with the hangover, so answer your goddamn door when the delivery guy arrives, yeah?”
I mumble something in response.
Lying in bed with no real memory of walking through the lobby, riding in the elevator, or even unlocking my front door, I look up at the ceiling in the darkness. I made a mistake tonight. Hell, I’ve made a lot of mistakes lately. I need to start making better decisions.
Maybe I can’t have Blair, but if she’ll listen, I can at least explain things to her. Explain why I did the things I did. She should at least understand what her parents are planning for her. She should be able to make her own choices. Live her own life. She deserves that, and so much more.
As soon as I’m sober, I’m going to call her and tell her everything.
26
BLAIR
I’ve been callingmy dad’s cell all morning, but he won’t pick up. I tried his office line, too, but his admin told me that he’s in meetings all day, which I’m not even sure is true. So now I have no choice but to show up in person and surprise him.
I’m waiting outside the apartment building where I’ve been living for the last three years—one of my parents’ properties, of course, although I’m anxious to find my own place soon and move out—and tapping my foot impatiently on the pavement as I wait for the valet to bring my Mercedes up from the underground garage. I’m so stressed out that my hands are shaking as I text Brooke for moral support. This isn’t at all how I wanted my first day at work to go.
My plan was to have a conversation with my dad today and finally talk about all the things he didn’t want to discuss while we were on vacation, like my position in the company and my official start date and when to meet up with HR to fill out my paperwork. But we just got back from the island yesterday, and he and my mom went straight home to unwind. I figured I’d be able to reach him at 6:30 this morning, when he’s usually drinking his coffee over theWall Street Journal, but my call went straight to voicemail, and I’ve had no luck since then.
But today is Monday, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s my first official day with the Tisdale Corp. Surely he should have expected me to want to hit the ground running. I am his daughter, after all.
Not only that, but diving into work is the best remedy I can think of for the broken heart I’ve been nursing. It’s obvious from the lack of communication that Sebastian has walked out of my life for good. Which hurts like hell, but maybe it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Because now I can fully focus on myself, just like I’d intended.
My career is waiting. My future is waiting. And I can’t wait to get started.
Even if my father isn’t cooperating.
