33. Sloane #2
"Parents trust us with their children, Sloane. That trust is everything in this field." She leans forward. “Three families have already requested reassignment."
My stomach drops. "Because I dated someone?"
"Because you're now attached to a high-profile custody battle and tabloid headlines about sleeping with your employer." Her expression softens. "It's not fair. But our hands are tied."
The room spins, the walls press in.
"What about my patients?" My voice cracks. "Eliza was just starting to use her communication board consistently."
Dr. Marken's eyes fill with sympathy that makes me want to scream. "Marissa will take over your caseload. I can assure you that your patients will be taken care of. We'll provide six weeks' severance."
I nod mechanically, my hands clutching my knees under the desk so she can't see them shaking. The anger comes in waves. I'm mad at Pope for not telling me everything, at Chris for weaponizing private moments, and at myself for being so stupid.
Maris warned me, and I shut her out instead of taking her advice. Now look where that has gotten me.
"I understand if you want to consult with an attorney." She pushes another paper forward. "Though I will tell you that this is a lawful termination under Florida's at-will employment statutes."
Of course it is. They've covered their bases while I've lost everything.
"When's my last day?" I manage to ask.
"Today. We'll tell families you left for personal reasons."
I stand before my legs give out, pride forcing my spine straight. "May I collect my things?"
One Week Later
I tape shut another cardboard box, the rip of packing tape echoing in the hollow apartment. Angela sits cross-legged on the floor, wrapping my coffee mugs in yesterday’s paper.
“You don’t have to leave Palm Beach.” She secures the last mug with a neat strip of tape, setting the bundle carefully in a box. “The clinic’s decision was bullshit. We can find you something here, so you don’t have to give up your lease.”
I shake my head, pressing down hard on the seam of tape. “It’s not like Elite will give me a job. I should have taken my losses the first time things didn’t work for my start date. This town has been one bad omen after another.” My lips twitch into a small smile. “Except you, of course.”
I glance around the space. The half-empty walls and stacks of boxes scrawled with black marker taunt me. Everything I built here is packed away in cardboard. “It’s not just the job. I can’t afford this place anymore. There’s nothing left for me here in Palm Beach.”
Angela pauses, newspaper crinkling in her hands. “What about the nest egg?”
I exhale, flattening another strip of tape with my palm. “Several thousand went toward furniture. Then half went to fees to break my lease. I have a little left, but not enough to last me long here. It’s time to cut my losses and go back to Augusta.”
Tape screeches as I seal the final box, a sound that's become the soundtrack of my failure. Outside, the rental U-Haul bakes in the Florida sun, waiting to carry away the wreckage of my Palm Beach experiment.
"I think that's everything." My voice echoes in the empty apartment, bouncing off bare walls that once held my carefully planned future.
The doorbell rings. Angela stands there, Tyler propped on her hip, his chubby fingers grabbing at her hair. His dimpled smile hits me like a physical pain.
"Thought you could use these for the road." Angela holds up a cooler with her free hand. "Sandwiches, water, and enough coffee to keep you awake through three states."
"Thanks." I step back to let them in, gesturing vaguely at the stacked boxes. "Welcome to the disaster zone."
Angela sets Tyler on a blanket I left unfolded, surrounded by the last of my unpacked possessions.
"So it's really happening." She sinks down beside me on the floor, back against the wall. “When I was here with you the other day I half expected that something would come up. But, you're leaving."
"Not much choice left." My fingers trace patterns in the carpet.
"Did you try calling Pope? Maybe he could?—"
"No." The word shoots out like a bark, and I instantly feel bad for taking out my frustration on her.
"Whatever's happening with the custody case, I can't be involved. We're both toxic for each other."
Tyler crawls off the blanket, babbling happily at his reflection in my laptop screen. The simplicity of his joy makes my throat tighten.
"Those pictures..." Angela's voice drops. "I saw them. It was private. Intimate. They had no right."
"Apparently, when you're sleeping with your billionaire boss during a custody battle, privacy isn't an option." Tears burn behind my eyes. "God, I sound like a Lifetime movie cliché."
"You fell in love. That's not a cliché, that's human."
The tears spill over. "I lost everything, Ange. My job, my apartment, most of my savings. My professional reputation." I wipe my face with my sleeve. "All because I was a dumb, naive girl who didn't think about anything past the moment."
Angela pulls me against her shoulder, her own tears dampening my hair. Tyler crawls over, sensing our distress, and pats my knee with a sticky hand.
"I'm going to miss Micah's science fair." My voice breaks. "And Tyler's first steps."
"And I'm going to miss having someone who actually understands what I'm talking about when I rant about homeschool curricula." Angela tries to laugh, but it comes out as a sob.
We cry together, mourning what's being lost. Not just my career and home, but this friendship that had just taken root.
Outside, the U-Haul waits. Sixteen hours of highway, leading me back to my parents’ house in Augusta.
Back to square one. Back to a life I thought I’d outgrown.