3. Permanently closed
CHAPTER 3
Permanently closed
My eyes hurt from staring at my laptop, but I can’t look away from the graphs and charts on the screen. I’m trying to understand where we might have gone wrong to lose our biggest support. The dip in December affected the ads, which negatively impacted our revenue.
Still, I can’t wrap my head around the fact Thomas backed out. I tap on a random key to keep the laptop alive. The other half of my screen has a list of potential investors who might be interested in taking Thomas’s place. If that doesn’t work, we might be forced to take a loan.
Tears prick my eyes, and I force them back. Things were starting to look up for Girls Code. We crossed fifty thousand downloads in three months. I place a hand on my belly, seeking comfort from Mace while I type away. In the silence, the click-clack of my keyboard echoes through the dining room. Amelia didn’t want to tell me, but it was tough to keep it a secret when her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I reach for the glass of warm milk on the table to take a sip.
If I can finish this proposal and send it to some names on the list before Amelia wakes up, it might make a difference. We may be partners, but Amelia has been doing the bulk of the work since I entered my third trimester. I may have freaked all of them out when I fell two weeks ago. It was an accident, but everyone has grown extra careful. I may have tried to hurt myself once, but I’m not stupid to repeat it with an innocent child inside me. I haven’t met Mace, but I love him with the broken and unbroken pieces of my heart. He’s not his father.
A door creaks open, and light floods the living room. I squint as Amelia stalks to the dining room and drops into the chair at the head of the table. Yawning, she stretches out her arms.
“What are you doing?” Amelia asks. I turn the laptop towards her, and her lips pull into a thin line. “Catherine Jenkins, I told you not to worry about this. Just worry about Mace and you.”
My eye roll is automatic. “You can’t tell your partner not to worry about our company.”
I cover my mouth to prevent a yawn. The last name on the list is female. Elna Stark, CEO of Loan Dolphin. She’s not an investor, but there are positive reviews from the beneficiaries of her loans. The only problem is her primary focus is on students. I’m not a student and neither is Amelia. My fingers sneak into my scalp as thoughts compete for space in my head.
Amelia’s fingers rap on the table. She sighs, bracing her elbows on the table as she hides her face behind her palms. I squeeze her hand. “Everything will be okay, Amelia Greene.”
“What if it’s not?” she whispers.
When we decided to go ahead with this, I thought starting would be the hardest. But I was wrong. Starting a business is easier compared to maintaining it. Less than six months as an official business, and it looks like we are about to crash. I press the heels of my palms to my eyes to stop the tears. Mace can sense if his mother is not okay, and I can’t let that happen.
“Maybe I can ask Daddy,” Amelia murmurs. I lick my lips as her hands drop to the table. She waits a minute more and pouts. “I don’t want to ask him, Cathie. I know he will help, but—”
“How about we try to figure it out on our own first? If it doesn’t work, we will ask for help,” I suggest. Her head bobs, the intensity of the nod growing as the idea blossoms. We cannot fail at this. I push my glass of milk to Amelia and tap on the email address attached to Loan Dolphin. Tomorrow, I can send a well-written proposal to the other names. Amelia finishes my milk, creating a milky moustache. I snicker, and she wiggles her brows. “We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah?” she says. I nod. “I believe so. Do you know, we have—”
“Amelia,” I interject. I don’t want her positivity today.
Pointing a finger over her shoulder, she says, “I need to get my phone. I’ll be right back.”
It takes a few minutes to compose and send the email. My feet bounce while I wait for her. I had an afternoon nap, so sleep is far from me. My mind strays to him. I open a new tab on my browser. My heart pounds faster as I type in his full name on the search bar. Calum Dissick.
There’s everything about him, minus a few facts. His time in Wells Spring is not recorded. The page has more details on his return to the stage. My mouth dries up as I scroll the page. When my eyes lower to the partner’s name, the NO PARTNER line fills my chest with an odd calm. It’s not like I care. But if I’m not allowed to date, then the same rule applies to him.
Another thing that grabs my attention is his net worth. We need a certain sum to keep afloat for the next six months while upping our plans, or we might have to downsize and move our operations to the house. I tease myself with thoughts of reaching out to him for help.
But if he didn’t care then, why would he care now?
Amelia returns in a better mood. She needs to be up early to leave for the office, but none of us are thinking about that as I shut my laptop. We move to the living room. I curl on the couch, and my head drops to the sturdy armrest. Amelia drags my feet to her lap, and a giggle falls out of my lips as she massages them. She is not just my best friend. She’s my soul sister.
We settle for an action movie. Midway, the massage stops, but I don’t retract my legs. A gasp from her has me grabbing the remote to reduce the volume. I sit up and slide a hand under my bump.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
The moving images from the TV cast shadows on Amelia’s face. I nudge her with my elbow, and she tears her gaze away from her phone.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says a bit too fast.
I steal the phone from her lap, and my breath whooshes out of my lungs at the picture on her screen. I swallow. Well, I try, but the lump blocking my throat doubles in size. I can almost hear the crack of my heart, how the tiny pieces break into smaller pieces. Lips set in an icy smile, I drop the phone back. I don’t care about Calum. I don’t care that he has moved on.
“He looks happy,” I tell her.
And I don’t care that he uploaded a picture of him and his new girlfriend to his social media. I do not give a single fuck. I recline on the couch, moving to my former position with my legs propped on her thighs. My brain must have blocked out the sound of the TV because I hear nothing except the buzzing in my chest and the roaring of blood in my ears. He. Moved. On.
He’s happy.
He’s making money.
He has found a new melody. And he found it with someone who has pink hair.
Why did her hair have to be pink? What is wrong with him?
I got his point the first time, and now I get it even more. Our chapter is permanently closed.
Amelia clears her throat. “I have a theory.”
“I don’t care.”
“Cathie,” she breathes out.
Her fingers caress my toes. I don’t look up until I’m sure the tears will stay back. I will not shed an extra tear for that man. Feigning confidence, I say, “Good for him, Amelia Greene.”
Remote in hand, I increase the volume before she responds. A car crash from the TV knocks the wind out of me. When the male lead rushes out of the car to save his lover, my brain takes over, switching the image of the female to the same lady in Calum’s picture. I blink back the tears coating my lashes, but they roll down my cheeks. It’s him I see cupping the lady’s face.
A harsh breath locks in my chest. Why her? I’m burning up. I breathe through my mouth, begging myself to snap out of this pathetic slump. I don’t care what he’s doing with his life. I don’t care if he posts a picture of him kissing his new girlfriend. I am doing fine without him.
“We should go to bed,” Amelia whispers.
Amelia moves. I don’t remember when or how, but I’m guided to her room. We lie in her bed with the silence and darkness for company. Her hand finds mine to give it a reassuring squeeze, and a silent sob escapes me. Pressure builds in my belly, rolling up to my chest and eventually slipping out of my body in the form of hot tears that trickle down my cheeks.
He moved on without me.
“You are okay, Cathie,” Amelia murmurs.
Her voice is a tiny beacon of hope in the darkness clogging my heart. I cling to it. I nod along until the words are imprinted on my chest. “I’m okay, Amelia Greene. I’m okay. I’m okay.”
My eyes clench shut as sleep draws me into its welcome embrace. When I wake up the following day, it’s to an email from Loan Dolphin. Amelia’s side of the bed is still warm. I throw my legs over the bed, massaging my temples as I try to process the content of the email.
They want to meet us.
I rub my hands over my eyes too many times to count, refusing to believe this. It’s too easy. They replied too fast. I steal a second glance at my phone as the door to Amelia’s room opens. She steps inside, frowning, but it turns upside down as soon as she realises I’m awake.
“Hey, sleep well?” she asks.
We won’t talk about him. I will forget that picture exists.
“Yes,” I reply. I pat the bed, and she rushes over. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
Tiredness decorates her face. I slide my arm around her waist as my head drops to her shoulder. Sometimes, I forget we are both still young. I’m not even nineteen yet. Maybe we should have stayed in Wells Spring or kept this as a hobby like Taylor and Rose suggested.
I give her my phone so we can decide on our next step. Walking to the curtains, I throw them open, and the natural light bathes my face. I slide my palms over my face and groan into them.
You’re okay, Catherine Jenkins.
“Thursday?” Amelia says. It’s the date in the email. If we are okay with it, we are expected to reply to the email and show up at Manville on the fixed date. It’s a two-hour drive to that city. “Do you think we should go? Manville is a few hours away. We have nothing to lose.”
Amelia drops my phone on the bed, and I lean back on the wall. Tugging her hair out of its messy bun, she braids it into a neat ponytail. She loves her hair more than any girl I know.
“Cathie?”
“We have nothing to lose,” I murmur.