Chapter 33 #2
I strip down and take a shower, scrubbing my skin as if I can wash away my father’s poison.
By the time I shut off the tap, my fingers are pruned, but I feel a little better.
I throw on a hoodie and leggings. Then, I finally turn on my phone.
I scroll through the group chat where Dee and Jordyn are checking on me.
The details are too much to type, so I keep it brief:
Lexie: I’m okay. I’ll fill you in later.
Jordyn replies almost immediately:
Jordyn: You can fill us in when we get there. Already on our way.
I shouldn’t have expected anything less.
While I wait for them to arrive, I open a text from Chaz.
He sent it soon after I left. My eyes sting as I read his words—so full of trust and faith.
He offers nothing but love, support, and the promise of his heart.
I might have hugged the phone and had a full-on cry if my friends weren’t knocking on the door.
I open it, and there they are, armed with pizza boxes.
“You didn’t think we’d let you deal with this alone, did you?
” Jordyn says, going up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek, and breezes past me, trailing the pleasing aroma of pepperoni.
At five-two, she’s compact and athletic from years of soccer and field hockey.
She exudes sassiness, and her confident strut makes her seem larger than life.
Beneath the side-swept bangs of her auburn pixie cut, her mossy-green eyes can be playful or don’t-mess-with-me, depending on her mood.
“Thanks for coming.” I thought being alone was what I needed to decompress, but I’m so glad they’re here. I take the bag from Dee, peering inside at bottles of wine, ingredients for crantinis, and a big bag of chocolates.
Just like earlier in the day, Dee glows with the exhaustion and joy that come with new motherhood. “I already paid the babysitter extra for overtime,” she says, “and we took an Uber, so this girls’ night is about to be lit.”
“Yasss!” Jordyn raises her hands to the roof.
“You left the twins with a babysitter?” I ask, surprised the super-protective mom was ready for that.
“Oh, by babysitter, I meant Mick, and by paying overtime, I meant this,” she wiggles her voluptuous body, her sable curls bouncing with the action.
I burst out laughing. “I love you both.”
“We love you too, girl,” Jordyn says, gathering us into a three-way hug that fills my heart.
“So . . .” Dee looks me over as she and Jordyn get everything set up on the kitchen island. “Are we celebrating or commiserating?”
“Or,” Jordyn interjects, “kicking Theodore’s ass?”
“A combination of both,” I say, shaking up the crantini mix and pouring it into glasses. “The ass-kicking is good fantasy material, though.”
“To fantasy ass-kicking,” Jordyn toasts, and Dee and I raise our glasses with a hearty clink.
They wait until we’re settled in the living room—Dee and I on the couch, Jord cross-legged on the carpet. Armed with pizza slices in hand and drinks on the coffee table, they ask for details.
I take a big bite and then tell them everything, starting with my father having me followed and concluding with how amazing it felt to finally take control.
I explained how Chaz’s father worked for mine, described Theodore’s offensive proposal, and capped it off with my blatant refusal.
Jordyn and Dee listened without interrupting, gawking with disbelief as the story unfolded and ending with impressed smiles and enthusiastic cheering.
“Damn, babe, you are a boss queen!” Jordyn raises her glass again. “To you. For standing up to Teddy the Terrible and choosing yourself.”
“I love that for you,” Dee adds.
“So, what’s next?” Jordyn asks a few bites and sips later.
I glance at my phone on the coffee table. Chaz’s message is waiting for me, just like he promised he’d be. Returning to Chicago, the house feels different—hollower, a little less like home. I wouldn’t have thought that possible in five weeks. Five weeks. So much has changed in that short time.
“I don’t know exactly what my future holds yet, and that’s a scary feeling,” I admit.
“But through all the murkiness, one thing is certain: Chaz. I want to be with him. So, I’m going to put on my big-girl panties and go back to Bayside tomorrow and tell him everything.
I just hope he’ll still want me. But even if he doesn’t, I know I’ve made the right decision for myself. I’m resigning.”
That leads to another round of toasts and a night of drinking, eating, and laughing.
It’s great to catch up on their lives and put all my stuff on the back burner.
We talk about Jordyn and Stiles’ wedding this summer, to be hosted in his grandfather’s beautiful garden, and Dee’s dilemma—wanting to stay home with her babies as long as possible but missing her career as a children’s advocate.
We listen and offer each other advice where necessary.
It’s like old times, and I realize if I were ever to relocate to Bayside, I’d miss this—miss them. But one step at a time.
It’s almost midnight before we hug goodbye, and I thank them for being there for me now and always.
I’m a bit tipsy when I crawl into bed. I read Chaz’s message again.
Warmth spreads through my chest, filling every corner.
I realize, through my wooziness, that I’m holding my breath. When I exhale, it’s right there.
I love him.
It’s not a sudden epiphany like a bolt of lightning. It’s softer, like the way the sky lightens before dawn. A love that grew day by day, casting out shadows, planting seeds of acceptance, and watering them with tenderness and care.
No matter what happens, no matter what Chaz decides, that’s my truth.
I fall asleep cradling that thought and wake up holding it close.
Fortunately, I’m not hung over. I’d paced myself, knowing today would be an important one. In the bathroom, I brush my teeth and take my thyroid pills. I’ll drop off my resignation letter first thing, meet with my team on a transition plan, and by four o’clock, be on the road to Bayside.
While I get ready, I crank up my Fuck-It playlist. Sometimes, emotions are too big to hold in—you need music to let them out. My singing talent is lacking, but my commitment isn’t. I’m belting out “Control” with Janet Jackson when the song cuts off and my phone rings.
It’s Francis Dunne, my PR director. He’s never called this early with good news.
“Hi, Frank,” I answer, a sinking feeling in my gut. “What’s hit the fan?”
“It’s one hell of a welcome back,” he says dryly. “HR received a complaint last night. It’s about Drew Marshall, and it’s . . . bad, Alexandra.”
“Okay.” I take a breath, bracing myself. “What kind of bad?”
“Drew was a keynote at the AdVantage Summit, and on Sunday evening, he allegedly hosted a party at a hotel. A private event in a penthouse suite. Drinking, drugs, young women—you know how these things can go.”
“How do they go, Frank?” My grip tightens on the phone. Just the thought of Sophia ever being at a party like that makes me sick.
“There are allegations of quid pro quo sex for jobs.”
My God. I knew those rumors about Drew were more than smoke, but this—
“Your father’s already involved,” Frank adds. “He wants me, HR, and Drew to meet this morning to get ahead of it.”
“To quash it, you mean?”
“He didn’t use those words,” Frank replies, his tone careful. “But this could be a huge scandal.”
If it’s true, it should be. I’m not going to doctor the truth or paint a pretty face on this. I’m not letting Drew or my father sweep it under the rug like some kind of nuisance. But I don’t tell Frank any of that. Even though he works for me, I can’t be sure his loyalty doesn’t lie with my father.
“What time’s the meeting?”
“Ten o’clock. Ignite conference room.”
“I’ll be there. Email me the complaint. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Already done.”
I hang up the phone and finish getting ready.
Until I get to the bottom of this, my resignation will have to wait.