Page 102 of Extended Bridge

“I’ve been handling my business all by myself for years now. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sure you can, Sweetheart, but wouldn’t you prefer to pass all the work over to someone else? That way, we can enjoy our time together.”

His mansplaining rubs me the wrong way. I stab him with my evil eye. “I am perfectly capable of running my business.”

“I wasn’t saying you’re not. Only that you should let the professionals do their job.”

“Professionals?” My voice rises. “Like how you defer to Luke’s every suggestion?”Low blow, but I’m mad.

Anger suffuses his body. “You do you.” He storms out of the room, muttering “Lissa,” and “Curtiss,” and “mother” as he makes his way to the bathroom. Before he slams the door, I hear my own name added to the list.

The cocky lead singer of Untamed Coaster can shove it. I’m the reason At Your Service PT exists, and I’ll keep it afloat, dammit. I punch the button for Court.

“Hey, you,” she answers. “I got the sidewalks repainted.”

Of course she could troubleshoot this, but it’s my mess to clean up. “I appreciate it. Guess my press release didn’t work as well as we hoped it would. I think it’s time for me to stop gallivanting with a rock band and come home to deal with all of this.”

“I have it handled from here. What more could you have done? Repainting makes it go away.”

“For what? A day? I’m thinking about installing security cameras. Even though Michelle’s been good at avoiding being caught on video from the street, I’m sure to catch her red-handed with more strategically-placed cameras.”

“Well, that’s not a bad idea. But you can contact companies online and I can oversee the installation.”

“At both locations? What about the new one that’s just getting renovated?”

“Right now, there are only two places. Felipe and I got this.”

“What if?—”

“Jenna. What is this call really about? Did you get into a fight with Bennett?”

I shout, “No!” A second later, I take a deep breath. “No, we’re not in a fight. Not a big one, anyway. He’s just being...a privileged rock star.”

“Well, he sort of is one, right?”

“Totally.” I plop onto the sofa. “It’s my responsibility to make this issue at the clinics go away.”

“I hear you.” A pen taps on a desk. “There is something I’ve been keeping from you. Cancellations are on the rise again. I triple checked, and patient numbers are definitely lower.”

My stomach knots. “You shouldn’t have to take on all of this. The business is my responsibility.”

“You deserve this time away. With a super-hot, talented singer who makes your world shatter.”

My knees knock together. “I never said that.”

“Didn’t have to. How about this? I promise to keep you in the loop about numbers and graffiti outside if you send me a picture of Coop that I can’t find on the internet.”

The object of her interest catches me off guard. “Coop?”

“Come to think of it, a photo of Río would be fine, too. Both of them are not bad on the eyes.”

“None of the band is,” I agree. “You know all this is rubbing me the wrong way. I really should be home.”

“How about this. If cancellations increase by ten percent, I’ll give you a shout.”

“Ten percent?” I tuck my hair behind my ear, and it immediately pops out. “Five.” I shove it back again. “If anymore graffiti appears, I’m there.”

“Seven and I’ll handle the paint.”

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