Chapter 37 Effing Pillow Talk
EFFING PILLOW TALK
A quality you value in a friend?
Cole: Loyalty.
brIDGET
Being available to pick up my niece from school was a new low.
Don’t get me wrong; I loved helping my sisters.
When Denise put out an emergency text on the sisters’ chat asking for help, I’d been the first to volunteer.
Not having a job at two-thirty on a Tuesday for the first time since I’d turned fifteen was demoralizing, to say the least.
I plastered on a smile as the school nurse walked Ashlyn from the clinic into the main office.
“How are you feeling, sweetie?” I asked her.
She swallowed hard and shook her head. Her wince reminded me of the evening I’d spent with Cole and Caitlyn when she’d been sick.
Maybe the same bug had worked its way down I-680 from Walnut Creek to San Ramon.
I swept thoughts of Cole and his daughter from my mind. He was history. Ashlyn was the present.
“Not good, huh?” I glanced at the nurse.
“She complained of a sore throat,” the nurse said. “And she has a slight fever. Rest and plenty of fluids should have her back at it in time for Christmas.”
I gathered Ashlyn to my side. “Does she have any assignments we need to finish at home?”
“It’s two days before holiday break,” the nurse huffed. “They’re watching movies and having classroom parties. I don’t know why they’re even here.” She grumbled something about germ factories and flashed a tired smile. “You can sign her out at the front desk. Happy holidays.”
I reached for my wallet before I remembered you didn’t tip school nurses. If anyone deserved extra cash at the holidays, this woman did.
After signing her out, I walked Ashlyn to my car and buckled her in. She didn’t even fight me about the booster seat, which was a sign of how bad she felt. Before I closed the door, I leaned in. “Would you rather go home or come to my place for a sleepover?”
“Your house,” she croaked. “Please.”
I patted her knee, feeling more confident than I had since lunch with that snake, Cole. Not only would Denise appreciate my reducing her workload by one sick kid, but I selfishly wanted a companion to help fill my now-vacant hours.
At my condo, Ashlyn snuggled into my squashy sofa under a cozy blanket, and I brought her a cup of ice water with a straw. “The nurse said you needed fluids. If you drink all that water, I think we can consider ice cream a fluid. What do you think?”
She grinned for the first time since I’d picked her up and nodded. Then she grabbed the cup and took a healthy slurp.
Chuckling, I returned to the kitchen. On my way home from being humiliated at the office, I’d put on sunglasses and a face mask to disguise my red, teary eyes and trembling lips.
I stopped at the grocery store for breakup supplies: three kinds of ice cream, hot fudge sauce, chocolate bars, and the saltiest potato chips I could find.
After all, being fired was like being dumped but worse because they’d not only broken my heart and shredded my pride but also yanked away my source of income.
I’d had time to scan the severance package they’d offered.
It was enough for me to take several months off, but I’d start my job search after Christmas, regardless.
I’d never get another CEO position, not when people found out I’d been fired after less than two months on the job, but a COO position was a strong possibility if one were available.
Who knew what support my family might need in the upcoming months? Trish needed prenatal care, baby supplies, and a divorce lawyer, not to mention help with her mortgage. If there was another crisis, I’d have to tap my retirement fund. I needed a new job, stat.
My belly clenched as I anticipated confessing to my family what had happened. I hated to disappoint them, especially Ashlyn, who looked at me like I hung the moon.
Well, I hadn’t, and I didn’t deserve her adoration.
But I could snuggle with her on the couch, fill her with all the fluids she’d drink, and let her watch Frozen until she fell asleep, dreaming of her own ice castle.
I’d hoped to build up the courage to confess my failure by stuffing myself with ice cream.
Fortunately, now, I didn’t have to do it alone.
When I brought in the bowls of ice cream covered in warm, gooey fudge sauce, she said in a soft voice, “Thanks, Aunt Bridget.”
“Your voice is back! That’s fabulous.” I handed her a bowl.
“The water helped.”
The cup was empty. “I’ll get you another glass.” I set down my bowl and reached for the cup.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, honey.”
“Do you need to go back to work? It’s okay if you do. I can stay here by myself. I promise not to touch the stove or answer the door.”
I stroked her hair. “No, honey, I wouldn’t leave you here alone, certainly not when you’re sick. I, um…I lost my job today.” I jammed a spoonful of mostly fudge into my mouth.
“You lost it?” She scrunched up her nose. “What does that mean?”
It meant a lot of things, mainly that our family’s financial stability teetered on a knife’s edge.
But I decided to answer her literally, which was probably what she meant.
I swallowed the ice cream and tasted only bitterness.
“I got fired. I’m not CEO anymore. I’m not anything anymore.
” I sniffed back tears. I couldn’t cry in front of my niece.
She set her bowl on the side table and took my hand between her two cold ones. “Yes, you are. You’re my aunt, and you’re the smartest person I know. That’s two things.”
Being the smartest person an eight-year-old knew wasn’t a high bar. Still, the heaviness in my stomach lightened a bit. “Thank you.”
She released my hands and picked up her ice cream again.
“You’ll find a new job. Remember in Toy Story, when Buzz Lightyear stops being an astronaut?
He’s sad at first, until he discovers he likes being a toy.
It’s like a new job.” She stuck her spoon in her mouth, leaving a glob of chocolate at the corner.
“Being an astronaut is pretty amazing.” I scooped up a more reasonably sized spoonful of ice cream. “Do you think he misses it?”
“No. Space is lonely. In Andy’s room, Buzz has friends.”
Being co-CEO with Cole had been anything but lonely. But that path was closed to me. “I have friends. And family. Like you.” I squeezed her shoulder.
Through a mouthful of ice cream, she said, “You should text your friends later. I bet they’ll help you. Or at least make you feel better.”
“You’re already making me feel better. You know, you’re pretty smart too.”
“I know. I’m gonna be a CEO someday too.”
“I thought you wanted to be a doctor and an astronaut.”
“Yeah.” She took another bite of ice cream. “And a CEO.”
My cheeks felt creaky when I smiled. “I know you’ll achieve whatever you set your mind to.”
Tessa had never been a touchy-feely person, so I was surprised and warmed when she slung her arm around me and walked me from her front door into her living room the next night.
She was tall, though not as tall as Cole, and her arm wasn’t nearly as thick, but her embrace was much more comforting than that Judas’s had been yesterday.
Tessa would never betray me like he’d done.
Why was I even thinking about him? He was dead to me.
“Bridget.” They said my name in that mournful tone I hated, especially from my friends. It was the same one people used when they’d come over with their casseroles and shopping bags of hand-me-down clothes after Dad lost his job.
“You assembled the Goddess Gang for this?” I asked. I regretted texting Tessa on my way out of the building today. As comforting as commiserating with my friends would be, allowing them to see my humiliation made me itch. I scratched my wrist.
“This is what the Goddess Gang is for,” Tessa said. “Solace and problem-solving.”
“And snacks!” Savannah sang out, pointing to the coffee table, where there was sufficient chocolate for me to eat my feelings.
“And wine.” Carly lifted a glass to me. I seized it and took a gulp that burned down my throat.
“What are they here for?” I pointed at the guys in Tessa’s kitchen: her boyfriend, Oliver; Carly’s fiancé, Andrew; and Lucie’s man, Danny.
“They’re trying to figure themselves out,” Tessa said.
“Andrew thinks they should be the Guys’ Gang, but Danny wants them to be the Compagni, and Oliver thinks they should be the Fellowship.
He’s such a nerd.” But her eyes went all soft when she said it.
“Regardless of what they call themselves, they want to help. Specifically, they want to help you. It’s kind of sweet. ”
I scratched the inside of my elbow. “Does everyone need to know about my humiliating problems?”
She shrugged. “They’re sleeping with us. They already know.”
Fucking pillow talk. “Fine.” I flopped into an armchair. “Fix my problems. First, I need a reputation rehab. Then, I need a new job. Is anyone hiring a CEO? Or a COO? Even a director? I can’t afford to be picky at this point.”
“Okay, folks.” Tessa raised her voice. “We need ideas, and we need resources. Bridget was fired. First order of business: finances.”
“I want to see a copy of your employment separation agreement,” Justine said. “I’m not an employment lawyer, but I’ve brokered a ton of marriage separation agreements. I can take a first pass and then ask a colleague to find more holes in it.”
I pulled the folder out of my tote and handed it to her. “Thank you.”
“Are you okay for cash?” Tessa asked. “Because I can give you whatever you need.”
“I should be all right,” I said, “for a little while, anyway.” My family’s gifts were already wrapped under my parents’ Christmas tree.
“I could analyze your portfolio,” Andrew said. “Ensure you’ve got it set at a risk level you’re comfortable with under your current circumstances.”
“I—thank you,” I said. I hadn’t thought about protecting what I had. “That’d be helpful.”