Page 104 of Not You Again

“Why don’t you let her choose what she wants instead of rejecting yourself for her? Why? Because you think you’re not good enough for her?” Mom looks at the papers on the table too.

“I’m not.” I shake my head. I am definitely not good enough for Andie. Not after this.

“Her choice to make, Kit. You are so easy to love; I can’t imagine she doesn’t. Face it. Let her choose you.”

Our eyes meet, and I swallow as hope blossoms in my chest for the first time in weeks. If Mom is right about choosing to love someone, do I dare hope that Andie might still choose me? Even after I hurt her again?

I don’t want to spend my life hurting her. But I remember her falling apart at the dinner with her mom after she announced another marriage. Andie didn’t need another person to come in and out of her life. She needed someone who would stay, even when things got a little rocky. All I’ve done so far is leave.

Do I even deserve to ask for her forgiveness this time?

“You do.” Mom nods, because apparently, I said that last bit out loud. “You always deserve love and respect, and that includes forgiveness.”

I chew on my cheek while I mull it over. My big boss Hammersmith is in town this week. It might be time to have a difficult conversation about my future with the Colonnade. For once, what I need isn’t their security and giant paychecks.

“Don’t sit here and wallow, wishing you could have done it differently.” Mom insists. “Do it differently, and give her the choice to keep loving you, just like you’ve chosen to love her even now, after you’ve seen her signature on the divorce papers.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOURKIT

“Did you seriously think we wouldn’t find out you were on a reality show?” Hammersmith paces in the living room of my suite at the Colonnade. He called me in after I’d been dodging all responsibility at work for the last two weeks. His slicked-back dark hair shines under the recessed lighting, his mustache twitching with annoyance.

“I wasn’t hiding it.” I shrug. “Not really. I just didn’t think it would matter since I didn’t miss work at all.”

“You went on a whole-ass vacation.” He tosses a glare my way and keeps pacing. “You brought cameras on our property. They tried to get Clyde to sign a release form to be on TV.”

“He didn’t have to sign it,” I offer, refusing to let Hammersmith get under my skin. “And the trip wasn’t on the company’s dime.” I’ve worked for this company for five years, always at their beck and call, going to the literal ends of the earth whenever I was asked.

I’ve taken two weeks to be miserable and away from it all. I’m allowed to do that.

“He didn’t sign it!” Hammersmith pauses and shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down on me in my seat on the buttery leather couch. “And I hear you got married, too.”

“That point is moot.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw in an effort to keep myself from breaking down in front of Hammersmith. I’m still working out a plan to get Andie back, but it’s illegal for them to fire me just because I got married.

“Things didn’t work out with your reality TV wife?” Hammersmith barks out a laugh. “Who could have seen that coming?”

I frown, staring at the modern marble coffee table. Andie and I were so close to having it all, and I blew it up because I was … afraid. Not of her, not really. I was afraid that keeping her would mean giving up this life I’ve built. But what is the point of building all of it and working this damn hard if I can’t enjoy what I’ve earned?

“Regardless of the show”—I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees—“my mom is here, and she’s still going through treatment for breast cancer. I have friends here. A home.”

Hammersmith narrows his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m asking to work from Atlanta.” I shrug. “I can travel to different locations for check-ins, but I want to live here. Settle down.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Hammersmith examines me like a specimen under a microscope.

“Things change. I’ve changed.” I tug on the cuffs of my suit jacket. It suddenly feels too small, too structured. “And you owe me, Hammersmith. I got you the Paris property. And the one in Sydney.”

He takes a deep breath. “After all the bullshit you’ve put us through the last few months—forcing the transfer, the reality show, dodging all our efforts to reach you the last couple of weeks—wouldn’t you say you owe us?”

I run my hands through my hair. “What do you have in mind?”

“You, on a plane to Montalcino, tomorrow.” He holds his hands out, palms up, like he’s offering me the deal of a lifetime.

“And if I say no?” I raise my brows in question.

“Then you’re just not a good fit for our company.” He glowers from his spot above me.

It’s doing nothing but remind me of all the hoops I’ve jumped through for this company. All the late night phone calls I answered. All the flights I ran to catch and the problems I worked through the weekend to solve. All the holidays I missed with my mom. The fight with Andie in the hospital hallway, where she asked me to stay and I was too afraid to let go of the security this job provided me. So afraid to lose my financial safety net, I may have lost the best thing to ever walk into my life. Permanently.

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