Page 62 of Six Month Wife
She sits across from me without asking.
“So,” Bets says, leaning back in her chair. “What’s new with you?”
That’s a weird question. She knows about Parker, so that’s not new. She and I had two meetings about Citrine, so there’s nothing there.
Is this about Thatcher? Did word get out that I met with her? I hesitate, my cappuccino suddenly less appetizing.
“Oh, you know, the usual. Busy with Citrine, working on the product line. Nothing too exciting.”
Her smile tightens. “Busy, huh?”
I nod, a little too vigorously. “You could say that. Lots going on.”
Bets tilts her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s interesting, because I ran into Caitlyn yesterday.”
Caitlyn is my ex-wellness café manager. The name drops into my gut like a stone.
She’s nice, I suppose, and not much of a gossip. I didn’task her to keep me letting her go a secret, so I can see where this conversation is heading.
“Oh?” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
“She’s been telling people she was let go as your manager because of cash flow issues. Adair?”
“Wow. Caitlyn’s got a real future in fiction, then. Should I get her a BookTok handle?”
My heart races, my mind scrambling for a real answer, not some sarcastic knee-jerk defense mechanism.
“That’s all you’ve got?”
“Well, Caitlyn’s never been privy to Citrine’s finances. That's the first thing I'll say. Secondly, I'm not sure why she would be out there peddling that.”
Bets doesn’t blink. “So, you’re saying she’s lying?”
“I’m saying she’s exaggerating without ever seeing any of the numbers,” I hedge. “It’s a slow season. Things will pick up.”
Her sharp gaze feels like it’s cutting straight through me, peeling back every excuse and half-truth. Bets’s a shark in the real estate business world, and she can smell blood in the water.
“Adair,” she says, her tone calm but firm, “I’ve invested a significant amount of money into Citrine. If there’s a problem, I need to know about it.”
“There’s no problem,” I insist, my voice higher than I’d like. “Just a few bumps in the road. It’s normal, nothing I can’t handle.”
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Let me make this clear. If your business fails, it reflects on me. My name, my reputation. I can’t afford to let that happen.”
She pauses, and I know whatever comes next isn’t going to be pretty.
“So here’s the deal. You’ve got one month to figure this out. If things don’t improve by then, I’ll step in and takeover, and I'll make the decisions on the direction. I won’t let this fail.”
My stomach bottoms out like I got shoved off a ledge. One month? That’s not a grace period, that’s a countdown to detonation.
Heat rises as a mix of anger and humiliation bubbles up inside me. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“I think you’re passionate and talented,” she says, her tone maddeningly even. “But passion doesn’t pay the bills, and talent doesn’t keep the lights on. Sometimes you need someone with experience to run the business. At least for a while until you have more experience under your belt.”
I grit my teeth, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Adair,” she says, her voice softening slightly, “this isn’t personal. It’s business. You know that.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
