Page 126 of Chasing After You
Stacey leans back in her chair. “Okay. I’m listening.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Henry
I HAVE NO idea what the fuck I’m doing. I’m barely keeping my shit together, but I still have to sit in this fucking meeting with my agent, Calvin, and my marketing strategist, Taylor, while they discuss next moves now that my reputation is better than ever. Supposedly, I’m not at risk of being traded anymore.
They’re scheduling all of the commercials and sponsorship deals for the next six months, and I want to poke my eyes out with the stylus Calvin is using on his iPad.
I miss Mirabelle.
If I’m being honest, I don’t even remember the last conversation I had with her. That whole night after I started drinking is fuzzy. The only thing I’m certain of is that Mirabelle grabbed her suitcase and left.
She’s the fire in my life, and now that Mirabelle’s gone, everything seems dark.
I’m sleepwalking while I’m awake to get through the day before I drown my sorrows in liquor until I fall asleep at night.
Wilson asked where Mirabelle was when the team returned from New York, and I didn’t have an answer for him because I didn’t know. The only question Tom has answered about Mirabelle—despite me paying his salary—is that she’s staying at her family’s house. The police still haven’t fucking found who torched the house, but I know Bash and Thalia upped the security while it was being remodeled. He won’t tell me anything else about how she’s doing because I can “ask her myself”.
The problem with that is I don’t know what to say to Mirabelle when I’m with her.
I scowl at the table, tapping my fingers repeatedly on the surface, only half listening to the conversation until I hear her name.
“—matter with Mirabelle. I think we—” My head snaps up at the sound of her name, effectively cutting Calvin off at my quick movement.
“What about Mirabelle?” I ask, her name rolling off my tongue too easily.
He looks at me confused. “Henry, I called you last week and left you a voicemail about this.”
See, I wouldn’t know about any calls because Allison called me at the beginning of last week, and I threw my phone in the pool. It wouldn’t turn on after I fished it out, and I refuse to get a new one.
It’s somewhat helped my stress levels, knowing Allison can’t get a hold of me.
The only reason I remembered this meeting is because Calvin retrieved me from the training room, where I was working off my hangover from last night.I might be drunk every night, but I’m in the best shape of my life.
“I broke my phone. Haven’t had time to get a new one,” I answer, still waiting for his explanation.
“I’ll get a hold of your assistant to have her get one for you,” he says, making a note on the tablet. “Mirabelle put in her resignation last week. Her last day is this Friday. Since she’ll no longer be employed by the stadium, we have been coordinating with Stacey and have come to the conclusion that the best course of action is to issue a press release explaining the relationship has ended mutually to prevent any backlash against either of you,” Calvin explains, but my brain is still stuck on his first sentence.
Mirabelle resigned?
“I . . .” I trail off, at a loss for words.
She’s leaving, and didn’t even tell me.
“What do you want to do?”
My fingers increase the pace at which they’re tapping on the table.This is for the best. It was only ever supposed to be temporary.“Put out the press release that we ended on mutual terms,” I murmur, the words almost getting stuck in my throat.
Neither of them think anything of it because Mirabelle and I never confirmed to anyone who believed it was fake that we were together. We allowed everyone to think whatever they wanted. It shouldn’t have mattered to them whether we were together or not.
My head is throbbing, and I feel disgusting. They wouldn’t let me shower before the meeting started so I have no doubt I reek of the alcohol seeping from my pores.
She’s leaving.
“Do I need to be here?” I ask, cutting off Taylor.
She looks startled by my outburst. “I guess we’ve covered everything major.”
