When I opened the door to the suite, I found Connor in the living room, bending some blonde over the back of the couch. I groaned—he wasn’t supposed to hear me, but this wasn’t the first time I’d walked in on Connor fucking some random woman in our communal space, and we’d only been here two days.
“This is the reason I prefer to stay in my own room.”
“If you spent more time with me, I wouldn’t need to find company.”
I opened the door to my bedroom and slammed it behind me, unable to deal with him any longer. I was just happy this process was almost over, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about putting up with him ever again. I tossed my purse to the side and threw myself onto the bed, succumbing to the exhaustion I’d been living with since being kicked in the chest a week ago.
Even though I dreaded sleep—because I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing his face, without hearing his voice or feeling his touch—I couldn’t fight it. My body was spent, probably because I’d expended so much energy due to my broken heart.
As I gave in to the blackness, I released one final sob.
20
Holden
“You have got to be the biggest idiot in the world.” Ronnie stood in my office with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at me like I was a moron who’d just tried to tell her two plus two equaled seventeen. “It’s obvious you miss her, so why the hell are you here and she’s there?”
“Have you not heard a word I’ve said?”
“Yes, Captain Asshat, I’ve heard them all. You went through her phone—without permission, might I point out—read text messages that weren’t meant for you, and then spent almost the entire night sulking in your own rendition of what had happened. Because let’s be real, you didn’t ask her what he meant when he sent her those texts. You didn’t ask her why she said those things to him. You looked at the dates, assumed you knew when everything took place—regardless of the fact you’re a guy and guys are the most horrible timekeepers—and then you jumped to conclusions. Then you spent hours and hours drowning yourself in those assumptions, and not once did you bother to ask her about any of it.”
“That’s not true. I did ask her.”
“Yeah. The next morning as you ripped apart her furniture. After you packed all her clothes and belongings. You kicked her out of your house, Holden. Not just your room, not just your life…the house you arranged for her to live in until at least January. Where did you think she would go?”
“She has family here.” My words tasted like soured milk.
“Way to be a heartless asshole.” She rolled her head and groaned before looking at me once more. “Stop being mad. Stop living in this bubble where she’s the bad guy who did something wrong. You don’t know what she’s done because you never bothered to ask. Pack your sack and move to the land of benefit of the doubt, and we’ll talk more then.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Ronnie. It’s over. She didn’t even fight me on the way out. She took her stuff and left, and then went straight to New York. Why? Gee, maybe to follow through with the original deal and marry the loser for a check.”
She stalked toward me, grabbed the back of one of the chairs in front of my desk, and leaned forward. “What did you expect her to do?” Ronnie asked with sincerity. “Really, Holden…you kicked her out, months before she expected to be on her own, after taking back the office space you had just gifted to her. Aside from a new relationship with her family and your signature on the divorce papers, what more does she have now than she did two months ago when she first arrived?”
“Why are you making me out to be the bad guy?” She was right, she always was, and she wouldn’t stop until I recognized it, but that didn’t keep me from arguing. I’d deny her for as long as I could, because I wasn’t ready to accept that maybe I had jumped the gun.
“She’s been gone for a week, and you haven’t gone after her. You haven’t called, you haven’t chased her down. You just let her walk out, taking your future with her, and you haven’t done a damn thing to stop it. That makes you the bad guy. Not only for yourself, but for her, as well.”
“Again, Veronica…” I only ever used her full name when either introducing her to someone, or when I was angry with her. She knew that, too. “I’m not the only player in this game. She had a part in it, too, so why am I the only one who’s in the wrong?”
“You’re not. She should’ve been upfront with that guy about where it all stood. But not because of you. Because this guy has a right to the facts—if there’s a chance he won’t get any of that money. She was in the wrong for that, and I’d tell her the same thing if she were here. Except she’s not, because you pushed her away. So I can’t divvy up the blame between the two of you because you’re the only one here.”
I dropped my head into my hands and suppressed a growl, frustrated at her inability to take my side. She was supposed to be my friend, but whenever Janelle was brought up, she often chose to defend her. “You won’t get it. You weren’t there. I appreciate your help, but it’s useless because you don’t and won’t see my side of things.” I slid my hands down my jaw and raised my eyes to meet hers. “You’re ignoring the fact that I was hurt. That she hurt me, and instead, all you’re worried about is her.”
Ronnie moved around the chair she had used to hold her up and sat in it. “That’s not true. I am fully aware of how badly you’re hurting right now, which is why I’m saying all this to you. Your pain comes from an assumption you made when you read text messages on her phone and didn’t ask her about them. You didn’t give her a chance to explain or provide accurate information. Had you done that, and she still told you everything you assumed, then I would be right there with you helping you pack her shit. You know that. But when you put words in her mouth and then refuse to give her the chance to correct you, I can’t stand by that. And you wouldn’t either if this were happening to someone else. Ask yourself this, Holden. Are you going to give up every time you don’t see eye to eye?”
I took a deep breath and absorbed her words, as if I’d breathed them into my lungs and let them begin to pump life back into my veins. “So now what am I supposed to do? Call her up and ask for the answers? Isn’t it a little pointless now? She’s run off to claim the money with that douchecanoe. What good will her answers do now?”
“You really are a twit.” She picked up a pen and threw it at me.
“Seriously, I think we need an office meeting to inform everyone about the dangers of throwing writing utensils at people.”
She narrowed her gaze and bit back her smile when she said, “There are only three people who work in this office. What kind of meeting are you expecting to have, and how many people here throw pens?”
“You’d be surprised.”