“Chelsea’s a fucking piece of work. How could anyone do that?”
“She has no regard for anyone and she doesn’t give a shit about Isabella. I threatened to take her, and Chelsea kindly reminded me why I can’t. I’m powerless, Bridget. Isabella’s a bargaining chip to bring me to heel. I’m the only one who truly loves her, yet I can’t save her.”
“She’s disgusting, Grant. She doesn’t deserve either of you.”
“I don’t know what to do.” His head falls into his hands. “I feel like my whole world is falling apart. Fuck. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
I lift his head from his hands. “I’m glad you called me. I want to help.”
“I know, but it’s not fair. I don’t need to bring you into my crazy.”
I pull him in and embrace him. For a long time, the two of us just sit like that, holding each other and looking out onto the pond in front of us. We don’t say a word, but instead, hold each other as though we never want to let go.
When my phone rings on Sunday morning, I’m instantly on edge. Even more so when I see it’s Grant calling.
“Grant, what’s wrong?” I ask in a panic.
“Everything at home is fine. I’m not calling about that,” he says quickly. “It’s actually about work. I’m sorry to call you at home on a Sunday, but things aren’t going well with the new property.”
“Which property?”
“St. Barts.”
“I thought they were supposed to start construction.” As far as I’m aware, there have been no issues at all and everything is set to go. What the hell could have possibly happened to change things?
“So did I. There was some sort of mess up and the whole thing seems to have taken a downward spiral.”
“What kind of a mess up are we talking?”
“I don’t know. I’m not getting a ton of answers that make sense. I think there’s more going on that they aren’t telling me. I have no choice but to go there and fix things. It’s impossible for me to know what’s going on without actually being there.”
“You totally have to go, but why are you calling me, Grant? I don’t work in your department anymore.”
“I called HR and told them about the issues and requested backup in case things go south. Since you’ve been in on a couple of meetings with me, it makes sense it would be you.”
“What?” I ask in dismay. “You can’t be serious.”
“I know it’s last minute, but I need your help. We’ll be gone a day or two at most.”
“Grant, this is insane. I can’t go to St. Barts with you.”
“Please, Bridget. Everything is paid for. I just need backup.”
“Why me?”
“I told you. You’ve sat in on meetings.”
“One. I came to one meeting with you, Grant. That hardly makes me qualified to help you clean up a mess.”
“I know it’s asking a lot, but I really need you. Nobody else makes sense.”
I don’t buy it at all. Jared, Paige, hell, even one of the other temps would be a better choice than me, but the desperation in his voice has me seriously considering it.
“When do you leave?”
“In two and a half hours.”
“Two and a half hours!”
“The sooner I get there the better. I chartered a private plane.”
It’s a bad idea. A very bad idea, but how can I abandon him in his time of need? Despite our end, I still care about him deeply. The idea of leaving him to deal with things on his own when he’s already fragile doesn’t sit well with me.
“Fine,” I acquiescence. “I just need to throw a few things in a bag and I’ll be good to go.”
“Thank you,” he says, sounding relieved.
I hang up and pack a small suitcase. My hands shake and perspiration builds on my brow. I hate flying, and the idea of having to do it today while also dealing with Grant being close has my anxiety at an all-time high.
It’s not long before the car service Grant sent is buzzing up. Sitting in the car considering what I’m doing, I contemplate asking the driver to pull over and let me out. Is helping Grant really healthy for me? No. This is a bad idea. My phone vibrates in my hand, and I see it’s my mother. I almost send her to voicemail but at the last second, I think better of it.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day.”
“I’m sorry. I’m on my way to the airport.”
“The airport? Where are you off to?”
“I’m heading to St. Barts on a work trip. I was packing when you called earlier. I was going to text you when I got there. I was in a bit of a rush.”
“What’s in St. Barts?”
“I have to help Grant with some problems at the location of the new hotel. It’s very last minute.”
“Grant? Your boss?”
“Yeah. Um, Mr. Lancaster is having some issues with the new project, so I said I’d go and help. It will be great work experience.” I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to stop. “So far everything has been going right. It’s good for me to be there when something is wrong, too.”
“I see.”
“You seem strange, Mom. What’s going on?”
“So, is it just you and your boss going?” she asks accusingly. She’s worried something is going on between me and Grant. I can hear it in her tone.
“No,” I lie. “There will be a few of us going. Anyway, it’s only for one day.”
“Well, that’s good then.”
I roll my eyes at her blatant disapproval. She might say it’s good, but what she really means is she’s not buying what I’m selling her.
“Look, Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m finished, okay?”
“Sure. No problem. Good luck.”
I put the phone down and groan. Why did I just lie to my mom? What’s so wrong about going with Grant for something work related? I should’ve stood my ground and pointed out that I’m an adult capable of making adult decisions.
“Well, this is it,” the driver says as we arrive.
I look up, frowning. My foot begins to tap nervously. I’m not ready for this. “Thank you. Oh, no. I just realized I don’t have any cash on me. Would you mind waiting while I run inside to grab some money? I’m so sorry.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead. This day can’t get any worse. I’m a hot mess.
“No, it’s fine. The fare has been paid.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mr. Lancaster has it all taken care of.”
I’m sure he does. The driver grabs my bag and hands it to me, and then I hurry inside to meet Grant.
“Thank you for coming,” Grant says when he sees me.
I’m slightly taken aback when I see him. He looks as if he hasn’t slept in days. He has dark rings under his eyes, his clothes look like they could do with an iron, and overall, he looks worn-out. I feel sad for him as I remember how he fell apart on the park bench. His home life is a complete mess. No wonder he looks this way. I force myself to smile so he doesn’t see I’m so worried.
“Am I late?”
“Nope. Not at all. In fact, we still have another half hour before we board. Come sit,” he orders.
The woman next to us shoots Grant a look and scurries away.
“You’re very intimidating sometimes.”
“I am?”
“Not to me, but to others. I think people are scared of you.” I chuckle at the image of the woman still in my mind.