Page 106 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

Growing up, any time I shared my fears or worries with my parents, they brushed them off. I learned young that it was far easier to keep it bottled up. All those habits led me here. In this room with Hamilton. A man I could have easily married to please my father and because I thought he was good enough.

Things could be different. I could open up a little more. The ship has sailed with Orion, I can begin to accept that. But maybe I should have had Alex sit with me yesterday and let everythingout. He’s navigating his own heartache. Maybe we could have become better friends.

I’m not letting my dad, or my mom, or fucking Hamilton dictate my future any longer.

“Whatever. I only want to talk about business with you today. Let’s get my dad on the line.” I open the video conference app on my computer.

“Jeffrey won’t make it today,” Hamilton explains. “He’s removing himself from your account. He wants me to take over. He thinks we’re a better fit as partners moving forward.”

My father had very little time for me growing up, so it’s not a surprise to me that he’s bored with the time he has for me now. I clench my teeth. My stomach queasiness turns to fire. I wish I was hurt. But I’m angry. I’ve used up all my hurt.

“Right.” I pull up the latest numbers on my screen, turning the monitor so he can see. “We’re doing fine. Customer surveys indicate they’re satisfied with the handling of the scandal. Most will buy from us in the future. A few indicate they appreciate the additional steps we’ve taken to educate the public on how clothing manufacturing works.”

“This looks good, but we need to revisit the change in marketing direction. We’ve discussed this on the phone. There are untapped avenues you can exploit.”

“What makes you think I’m ever trying to exploit something?” I ask.

“Carina, you’re being unnecessarily hostile today.”

“Oh fuck you, Hamilton.” I don’t think I’ve ever sworn in front of him. He wanted a pretty princess who designed her cute little yoga clothes and never made a fuss. I’m not that, and I won’t pretend anymore. “You don’t understand what I’m trying to do with Nebula Athletics. You never have. I don’t want you on my account if you are ignoring my vision.”

He sucks in a deep breath. “Jeffrey won’t like this.”

“Then he can take it up with me.” I don’t think my dad will cut my funding. But even if he does, we’ve been profitable for years. I don’t need him the way I used to. I can make it work. I won’t compromise on my values anymore. I won’t bend myself backward to get him to notice me. I stand. “Any additional discussion can be completed over email.”

“Carina, come on,” he protests.

“That’s your argument?” I step around the desk to open the door, but Hamilton grabs my elbow. “Don’t touch me!” I can’t stand him on my skin.

I spent years with him, thinking I would end up marrying him because I wouldn’t find anyone better, or because I had already given him so much of my time and I didn’t want to start over. But I’m done. I miss Orion, but even if I made a mistake, it’s not worth it to go back to this man who doesn’t see me.

Hamilton puts his hands up in defense, like I’m the one who’s done something inappropriate. “We can reschedule when you’ve calmed down. I’m here all week. You don’t have much planned, aside from anything with the wedding.”

I shake my head. I’m done engaging with him. I’ll accept the consequences, but I’m not letting him—or my father—make decisions for me or my business anymore.

forty-two

ORION

I seeher walking home from the grocery store on Wednesday. Her groceries are in the same oversized tote on one shoulder. It’s hot as hell out even though it’s November. Her usual perky ponytail is drooping and her skin is covered in a sheen of sweat.

I roll down my passenger-side window. “Carina, let me give you a ride.”

“No!” She doesn’t even look at me.

“Seriously, we’re going to the same place. It’s not a waste of gas.”

“That’s a slippery slope,” she says in a mocking tone.

That’s when I notice it. Her limp. She’s favoring her right leg and it’s not the bag. The grimace I thought was annoyance at me is really pain. “Why are you limping?”

“I’m not limping.”

She’s definitely limping. “No strings attached. Let me drive you home.”

She doesn’t answer. She keeps walking.

“Fucking hell.” I drive the remaining two blocks and park in my garage. I wait in front of hers.

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