Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
MORGAN
Imanage to use my food poisoning as an excuse to avoid going into the office and attending the next two home games.
I also begged out of the four-day road trip that followed.
It hasn’t been ideal, but we’ve figured out a process for our photographer to send me pictures and me to craft our social media posts from home while watching the games live.
With any luck, I’ll have convinced myself I’m over Aidan before seeing him in person again, which I know will happen at tonight’s home game.
It’s been almost two weeks since we broke things off, and the only thing that’s gotten me through it is burying myself in work.
After telling my friends what happened, Eva and Lauren keep checking on me, and even Paige has been sending me messages from Indianapolis, where she’s working with a new client for the next month.
Audrey and Jules still don’t know what happened, but even they can tell something is wrong.
I’m sleepwalking through life. Nothing makes me happy. There’s nothing to look forward to. I’m just . . . numb.
I’d do anything to rewind time to the first weekend in September so I could talk myself out of sleeping with that cute guy at the bar in Bermuda.
I’d tell myself exactly how much it would hurt months later, after he’d shown me what it felt like to be loved and accepted, only to deny his own feelings and rip it all away.
I’d tell myself that it wouldn’t be worth the fallout.
But, I don’t know . . . maybe even that would be lying to myself. I might save myself some pain, but at the expense of finally knowing what it felt like to experience unconditional love.
Though I guess it wasn’t so unconditional, since he ended it for reasons that I still don’t understand—because, in the end, he didn’t even deem me worthy of an explanation.
As I pull the door to the practice rink open and head across the lobby to the elevator, I’m so lost in my own thoughts and focused on holding back the tears that spring up at inopportune times, that I don’t even notice AJ until I’ve practically walked into her.
“Hi, stranger,” she says, and I almost jump out of my skin.
“Hey,” I give her a forced smile, and I’m sure she sees right through it.
“Are you finally feeling better?” She reaches out and pushes the button to call the elevator.
“I’m still not a hundred percent.” It’s an honest response, because even though I’m entirely over the food poisoning, I’m in no way myself.
AJ looks confused, probably wondering how I am still suffering from food poisoning I had two weeks ago. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Meeting with Patrick and Sarah about Natalie.”
“Ohhhhh.” She drags the word out as her eyebrows knit together, and it’s obvious she doesn’t know about this meeting.
“Patrick didn’t tell you?”
“No. But I need you to know, going into this, that his mind is pretty solidly made up.”
“I’ll do my best to change it, then,” I say, lifting my chin and letting my face convey my determination. “It feels hypocritical that she’s been put on leave from her internship, while Jake has had no consequences whatsoever.”
“I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true,” AJ says cautiously before the elevator doors open and two of our players walk out, nodding at us as they continue toward the doors to the street.
Their presence here startles me. I checked to make sure the team wouldn’t be here before scheduling this meeting. Some of the guys could have hung around after morning skate, but I figured they’d all leave right away to rest up for tonight’s game.
As the elevator doors shut behind us, AJ drops her voice and says, “Between you and me, Jake’s on very thin ice here.”
“Why are you whispering in an elevator when we’re the only two here?” I ask.
She huffs a laugh. “I don’t know, being discreet never really stops, I guess.
But just know that even though Natalie’s absence has made for a much more public consequence, that doesn’t mean that there haven’t been other, quieter repercussions for him.
You know the type of organization I’m trying to build here, and that type of nonsense has no business in this club. ”
“What if it was a more serious relationship?” I ask.
Her eyes narrow as she studies me, and I wonder again if she suspects something between Aidan and me.
Not that there’s anything to suspect, anymore.
“It wasn’t. He made that very clear when I talked to him.
In the long run, that’s probably for the best because he has a lot of growing up to do before he deserves someone like her. ”
“Which, again, is why it’s a shame that he’s still here and she’s not.”
“For now,” AJ says, and the words hang ominously in the air as the doors open to the floor that houses both her and Patrick’s offices. When we step off the elevator, AJ says, “Have a good meeting. Fight for what you think is right in this situation.”
“Be that as it may,” Patrick says after I’ve made my case for Natalie being far more qualified for the social media position than Tatum, “posting a picture of herself and Jake MacIntyre in bed together was the kind of mistake that ends professional careers.”
“She’s not a professional. She’s a college intern and she made a stupid mistake, Patrick,” I say.
“Which begs the question why you think she should be given another chance.”
“It must be nice to be far enough along in your career that you forget about your own mistakes along the way,” I mutter.
“What?” The word is sharp, and defensive in a way that makes me wonder what skeletons are in his closet.
“We’ve all made mistakes, Patrick. That’s how we grow. That’s how we learn what not to do, and how to do better. It’s part of the process. Isn’t that why there are internships, and why people get promoted up the ranks, instead of starting at the top?”
“Some mistakes are too grave to progress beyond,” he says, and Sarah clears her throat where she sits next to me.
“I think what Patrick is saying,” she says, cautiously, “is that given the nature of what happened, it’s probably better if Natalie gets a fresh start somewhere else.”
“Given the nature of what happened?” I ask.
“She didn’t post it on her own personal account,” Patrick says. “That would have been bad enough. But she posted it on the team’s social media account,” Patrick reminds me.
I know he has a point. I know that this is about posting the picture more than sleeping with a player. But something about it still doesn’t sit right with me. Even if something happens to Jake, it’ll be a slap on the wrist compared to Natalie not being able to graduate if she loses this internship.
“I’m working to help find her a new internship,” Sarah says. “It’s just hard to find people willing to bring someone on in November, when the semester ends in a month. She’d need more hours than most people offer for interns.”
“Hold on,” I say, as that sparks an idea in my head. “I think I know where she can get the hours she needs. Is it okay if I reach out to her?”
“Given that she’s still technically an intern here, I’d like to be there when you contact her,” Sarah says.
“No problem at all. Let’s give her a call now, shall we?”
“Uhh, okay,” Sarah says. “Let me just look up her number.”
“I have it in my phone from working with her. Can we call from my phone and I’ll put it on speaker?”
“Sure,” she says.
Natalie picks up on the first ring. “Morgan?” She sounds desperately nervous and excited to be hearing from me.
“Hey, Natalie. I’m in Patrick’s office with him and Sarah from HR, and you’re on speaker, okay?”
“Okay,” she draws out the word almost as if it’s a question.
“Sarah mentioned that she was working with you on getting an internship elsewhere, and that gave me an idea.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but I have my own boutique PR company with a selective client list. The Rebels are actually one of my clients, which is how I ended up taking over the social media role here while Tatum is on medical leave.”
Sarah nods, clearly pleased that I haven’t said anything I shouldn’t have. Yet.
“Ummm, yeah, I don’t think you mentioned your company.”
“Well, the thing is, I’ve been spending much more time working for the Rebels than what I originally agreed to do”—my gaze moves between Sarah and Patrick at this reminder—“and I’m in danger of falling behind on work for my other clients. I could really use an intern to help lighten the load.”
Natalie’s gasp fills the office, and then she squeaks out, “Really?”
“Really. You’d be doing me a huge favor, actually. I have a few clients whose social media accounts I manage, and I could really use your expertise there. But I’d like to hand off more than that to you, because I know you’re a quick learner and think you have a bright future in PR.”
“Oh my god. I don’t know what to say. Thank you!”
“I’m happy to have you on board,” I say. “I’ll work with Sarah on how to get your internship transferred over to my company so you still get credit. I know you’ll have some hours to make up given the last few weeks, and I have plenty of work to help you meet your internship requirements.”
“I’m ready for anything.”
“Great. Let’s plan for you to start on Monday.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Morgan,” she says before we end the call.
“Let me know what paperwork I need to do,” I say to Sarah, “or if there’s anyone at the university I need to speak with or anything.”
I glance over at Patrick, who’s wearing a bit of a dazed expression. “That was ballsy.” He huffs a laugh. “Reminds me a little of AJ when she first took over here.”
And here I thought he’d be pissed that I just gave Natalie an internship. If it works out as well as I anticipate, I plan on hiring her after graduation. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.
“Birds of a feather . . .” I shrug, as if being compared to Alessandra Jones isn’t the most enormous professional compliment I’ve ever received.
“She mentioned the Director of Public Relations position?” he asks.
“She did, but I have my own company to run. If the Rebels would like to keep me on retainer for PR issues, like in the past, that’s something we can discuss.
But my rate is going up in the new year.
” I mean, that wasn’t in the plans until right now, but it’s time I start charging for what I know I’m worth.
“But we can’t convince you to come on full-time?”
Sarah clears her throat. He’s probably violating some HR policy by trying to talk me into a position that hasn’t even been posted yet.
“Pretty sure I’ve already given you my answer, Patrick.” Goddamn, it feels good to set a boundary like this. Especially knowing that I’d have said the same thing to AJ if it had been her asking. Aidan would be so proud of me.
I feel my nose stinging as my eyes start to water, which is what happens any time I think of him. I need to get that under control before I see him tonight.
After saying some goodbyes, I head out of the office. As I ride the elevator down to the lobby, I send AJ a text telling her how the Natalie situation resolved. I hit send as the doors open, then glance up as I step forward.
Standing right in front of me, looking shell-shocked as his jaw drops slightly, is Aidan.
“Hey.” He drags the word out, and I don’t miss the edge of concern in his tone, like he’s worried I’m not okay after the way he obliterated my heart two weeks ago. Fuck that.
“Hi.” My response is clipped, and my tone is as neutral as I can force it to be.
“I’m headed up to meet with AJ,” he tells me as I step out of the elevator. He makes no move to get in, and the doors close behind me.
“Have a good meeting,” I say and start to move past him. I need to get out of here. I need some fresh, cold air. Maybe then I’ll be able to breathe again.
But his arm stretches out quickly, his hand gripping the cuff of my jacket over my wrist. I freeze mid-step and turn my head just enough to see him out of the corner of my eye. One eyebrow arched in his direction, I wait for him to say something.
He removes his hand from my wrist and rakes his fingers through his hair. It’s longer now, and so is his beard. He looks just like the guy who was staring back at me from that photo in the file Patrick handed me in his office over two months ago.
The fact that he looks so much less like the guy I was first attracted to in Bermuda should help me get over him, but it doesn’t.
Because I’m apparently in love with every version of Aidan Renaud—when he’s flirty and bantering with me, when he’s taking care of me, when he’s moody and in his own head.
And that’s the kicker. I’m in love with him, and no matter how he feels about me, he won’t let himself return those feelings.
My throat is thick with emotion, but I refuse to cry in front of him.
“Can we talk after the game tonight?” he asks.
“I can’t. I have a date.” I glance away from him because I don’t want to know what his reaction is.
I don’t want to see him looking like he’s perfectly okay with this information.
Nor do I want to see if it upsets him, because that’s exactly the kind of reaction I’d cling to, convincing myself that he still has feelings for me.
But it’s been two weeks of no contact, and now I just need to move on.
“You move on fast,” he mutters, and the words are tinged with bitterness.
At least I wasn’t the one who had one foot out the door the entire time we were together. But that’s the thing . . . we were never together. He made me feel like we were, while telling me all along he couldn’t do a relationship, and despite all his reminders, I still fell for him.
“Good luck tonight,” I spit the words out and practically run across the lobby and out the doors.
I don’t stop moving until I’m a block down the street, where I finally stop, lean up against a lamppost and try desperately to catch my breath and hold back the tears. At first, I struggle with both. Then, I pull myself together, vowing that he won’t be the one who finally breaks me.