Chapter 21
Zach
I wake up to the sound of a forklift horn honking. I slept on the bus last night, and it sounds like the stadium staff are moving things around to get ready for The Royal Rebels concert tonight. It’s a new day, and everyone is moving, while I am unable to make myself set one foot in the real world. Maybe if I stay in here, I won’t have to face the fact that my heart was ripped clean from my chest last night. One thing’s for sure: I can’t go to the hotel.
I don’t doubt for a minute that Marina isn’t there anymore. And, while I would love to go crashing through her apartment door to profess my undying love for her, she specifically told me to stay away. She doesn’t want to see me and I’m not going to force myself into her life, as much as it breaks my heart. Is it too much to hope that the reality of being without me will be enough to send her running back into my arms? I think, for once, I may be reaching too high. But if there’s a way to get her back in my life, I know it’s not by force.
I’ll have Rick go get my things from my suite. I can’t set foot in that building. I don’t want to see the lobby where I helped her walk a straight line after too many margaritas the night her identity was revealed. I can’t go to my suite, through the doorway where she just had to kiss me good morning. And I can’t be anywhere near the elevators….where she walked with me the morning I left, kissing me goodbye like her life depended on it.
Our last kiss .
I can’t be bombarded with all the memories of her sweetness and light if I don’t get to have her in my life anymore. So I will stay in this bus…tunneled under a stadium…until Rick, Sam, and Jimmy drag me out by my hair. End of story.
I’ve thought of texting her a million times and I still don’t know what to say. She didn’t specifically tell me not to text her, but how much of a jerk am I for getting that detailed. The message was clear: walk away.
I cannot do it.
She is my whole heart. How do I walk away from her?
I roll over and pull a pillow over my head to block out the day. I know eventually I’ll have to face it. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get on stage tonight and sing, but I have to find a way. Personal heartache aside, there’s no way I’m letting down my band mates or our fans. So I close my eyes and try to drown out the hurt that’s hurtling through my veins. For the first time, I wish I’d never stepped off the bus on that bridge.
***
Marina
I walk into the Trans United building with five reporters on my heels. I speed up my stride, making a beeline for the security desk, because they won’t be permitted to chase me further .
“Marina! When’s your next concert?”
“Are you going on tour with The Royal Rebels?”
“What’s next for you?
They’re still yelling at me as I step into the elevator and hammer at the button to close the door. I hate that they’re able to get closer to me now, but I felt it only right to get on with my life as it was before I met Zach. That means taking the bus to work.
I wonder if my life will now be divided in my memory as Before Zach and After Zach. Before Zach there was order and peace, After Zach there is disorder and heartbreak. Will I ever get over it? Will I ever get myself back together after this?
I don’t know why I was surprised, but Dave was parked outside my apartment building this morning, waiting to give me a ride to work. Fresh tears fell just seeing him. Because it meant Zach sent him. Even after I hurt him last night, his first concern is still my safety.
I shook my head at Dave and said no thank you as I stepped past him and got onto the bus, feeling incredibly guilty for the look of utter confusion on his face. The poor guy is just trying to do his job. It would have been hypocritical to accept that ride, as much as I would have loved the safety it provided. I felt so exposed just leaving my building and stepping onto the sidewalk this morning. It was a harsh return to reality, but it’s one I have to make.
The security guard was still stationed outside our apartment door when Ashley and I got home last night, and another was on shift when I left this morning. I’m not sure what to do about it. Maybe they’ll stop showing up when Zach and the band leave town on Sunday, headed back to southern California to continue the end of their concert tour. I don’t have to worry about it right now. I need to focus on getting through today and tomorrow. And I need to figure out a way to smooth things over with Ashley.
She was furious this morning when I stepped out of my room. I never told her last night that I broke things off with Zach. I figured I’d tell her after work on Friday because the proposal meeting would be over, and I’d have to explain why I wasn’t going to The Royal Rebels opening night concert. I can’t go now, for obvious reasons.
Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that I put her in touch with Rick, and he texted her this morning to see if she knew why a heartbroken Zach was sleeping on the bus at the stadium. He won’t get off the bus. That nearly killed me. I wanted to run to him as soon as I heard that. I wanted to throw my arms around him and make it all better, and never leave his side again. But that would only make us feel better in the moment. We would still have the impossible situation of the duchess disaster looming over us. I can’t do that to him.
I make my way to my desk, noting with a lump of dread in my stomach that Ethan Montclair is in Ms. Taft’s office. Great. It’s going to be a long day. They’re laughing, thick as thieves, as I walk by, so I hope that’s enough to distract her from seeing my arrival.
I log into my computer and see half a dozen revisions to the proposal deck. Great. More fun for today. And I’m sure these aren’t the only ones. Does she surround herself with bumbling idiots so she can feel smarter? Some of these edits should have been caught days ago.
Montclair comes slinking out of the Evil Queen’s office and heads straight for my desk. A chill runs down my spine as he half sits on the edge of my desk and smiles down at me. I sit back in my chair and look up at him with as much of a pleasant smile as I can muster.
“Good morning, Mr. Montclair,” I say with forced lightness. “Can I help you with something?”
His eyes narrow at me for a moment. “If only you would,” he coos at me.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I would really love to book you and Zach Adams for an exclusive interview,” he says, practically drooling. “What do I have to do to lock that in?”
I hate hearing Zach’s name on his lips. Ethan Montclair could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of even sitting in the same room with Zach. I lock down the shudder that threatens to run through my body.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Montclair,” I say quietly. “We don’t discuss our personal lives with the media.”
His brows fly up at my reply while I fight an internal struggle over the fact that there is no we . He doesn’t need to know that, but I feel the crack in my heart widen, regardless.
“That’s so boring, Marina, really,” he croons. “Surely there must be something I can do to sweeten the deal.”
He reaches out a finger and starts tracing a line down the back of my hand. I pull away immediately and he smirks at me. His smugness, his absolute sliminess, grates on me. I turn to face him, narrowing my eyes.
“I can understand how you’d expect more from the Duchess of San Francisco,” I say pointedly. “But I’m not interested.”
He scoffs and pushes himself off my desk.
“I’m not done with you, Duchess ,” he says in a slithery, low tone as he turns to leave.
“Mr. Montclair?”
He turns back to me with raised eyebrows. I set my jaw and look him square in the eye.
“Please don’t touch me again. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.”
He smirks and walks away without answering, and I take in a long breath. He walks back into Ms. Taft’s office.
“Marina!” Ms. Taft calls from inside her office.
I grab a pad and pen, curse under my breath, and enter her office. Montclair winks at me as I walk in and I fight the urge to hurl my note pad at his head.
“Mr. Montclair will need a workspace for today and tomorrow,” she explains. “He’s working on some things for a client of his and there’s too much going on at his offices right now. Find an open office here and set it up for him before you get started with the rest of your work.”
“No problem,” I lie. Big problem. We don’t have any open offices.
Montclair reaches up and runs two fingers down my arm.
“Do you need any help?” he says, looking me up and down with a predatory gleam in his eye.
I pull away from him. “No, sir. But thank you.”
He laughs, then stands and strolls toward the door.
“I’ll be back around lunch time,” he says lightly. “Can’t wait to see the space you set up for me, Duchess.”
He walks out with an air of superiority, leaving me alone with Ms. Taft. I decide to go for broke.
“Ms. Taft, I feel like you should know some things going around in the office,” I say carefully.
She puts down her pen and raises her brows, motioning for me to go on.
“Mr. Montclair is making excuses to touch women in the office,” I say. “Myself included. It’s…creepy.”
She scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. Why would he bother with someone like you?”
I pause and consider my answer before speaking. “That’s your response?”
She rolls her eyes. “Marina, I know you’re used to getting the attention of a social media darling, but not every man in the world is interested in you. Get over yourself. And get back to work. Now.”
I go back to my desk, wondering why I even bothered.
** *
It’s after 6 pm when I finally walk out the doors of the Trans United Tower, dogged by more reporters as I run for the bus. One of them actually gets on the bus with me and tries to get me to talk the entire way home. By the time I get to the apartment, I’m in a horrible mood. I step off the bus and duck into my building as quickly as possible. I don’t miss the fact that there’s now a second security guard on the ground floor to make sure no one follows me inside the lobby.
Zach .
The reminder that he’s still trying to take care of me reaches into my ribs and wraps around my heart like a warm blanket. I hesitate just inside my apartment door, closing my eyes against the wave of emotions that hits me. A throat clears and I jump, opening my eyes to see Ashley, Merry, and Scarlet watching me from the living room.
“Hi,” I say simply. “Is something going on?”
Merry walks toward me.
“Yep,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the living room. “This is an inter-friend-tion.”
She pushes me to sit on the couch, so I obey.
“A what?”
“We’re here to talk to you about your life choices,” Scarlet deadpans. Always the realist.
I look from one to other, waiting for one of them to start so we can get this over with. No one speaks.
“Guys,” I plead. “I really don’t need this right now.”
“Why not?” Merry asks. “What’s more important than your friends making sure you don’t totally screw up your life?”
“You’re looking at this wrong,” I try to explain. “I’m thinking of the future.”
Ashley steps forward. “You’re running. ”
My lip trembles. “I am literally just trying to hold everything together until this proposal is done.”
Merry nods. “And we’re literally just trying to get you to see some sense. What’s all this duchess stuff about? Ashley says you think you can’t be a duchess. Why not? You would be an amazing duchess.”
I openly scoff. That is the most ridiculous idea ever.
“I’m serious. You’re smart, beautiful, determined. Why not you?”
Something inside me breaks a little more, and my throat closes up. I don’t have the energy to list out all the ways I don’t measure up here, especially after a long day of working with people who enjoy reminding me that I’m lacking in some way. I stand up and turn to my friends.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” I say in a voice that’s way too wobbly. “But I finally have a video call with Max in twenty minutes, and I want to take a shower first. I love you guys.”
With that, I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving them to figure out how to deal with me. I turn on the shower and strip out of my suit, then start pulling my hair out of the tight up-do. I step under the spray, letting the hot water pour over my skin. No matter what I do, I can’t scrub the unsettled feeling out of my head or my heart. I let the shower spray wash away fresh tears. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel normal again.
I put my wet hair in a towel and wrap another one around my body, then pad out of the bathroom and head for my bedroom. The girls are huddled on the couch, their hushed voices silencing when I emerge. I say nothing as I open my bedroom door.
“Hey,” Ashley calls.
I turn and look at her. Her eyes are full of concern, as are Merry and Scarlet’s.
“We love you too.”
I manage a wobbly smile as I step inside my bedroom and close the door. Once inside, I check the time. Five minutes to go. I rush through toweling myself off, get into my pajamas, and throw my hair up in a messy bun, then sit on my bed just in time for Max’s call to come through. I hit the connect button and his face lightens my heart like it’s loaded with helium.
“Hi!” I say excitedly, feeling happier than I’ve felt all day.
“Hey, sis, what’s…what’s happened? Bad day at work?” Max asks, no doubt when he gets a look at my red, blotchy face.
I manage a weak smile.
“It’s been a rough one,” I say. “How about you?”
He looks concerned but decides to answer me.
“Pretty average, except for my project partner bailing like that,” he says. “Rocking all the math stuff, have to work hard at all the floofy stuff.”
I laugh, and it feels good.
“Floofy stuff?”
He shrugs. “English, history. You know.”
“I remember,” I say fondly, thinking back to what it was like trying to get him through his homework after school. “You always needed a lot more help with those subjects.”
He nods. “And you were always great about helping me.”
“Yeah, well,” I grin. “You weren’t much trouble.”
He laughs at that, then raises his chin at me.
“So what’s up? Really. You seem a little down.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be a lot better after tomorrow is done.”
“The big proposal at work?”
I nod. “Yep. My boss is really awful, and she’s been really rude and demanding. The guy who runs the firm we’re trying to sign a contract with is even worse.”
I tell him about the creepy touching and he looks like he’s going to crawl through the phone so he can go strangle Montclair.
“That’s terrible, Marina,” he says, frowning. “What does Zach say?”
My lip quivers, and he catches it.
“Hey, sis,” he says, his tone cautious. “What’s really going on? Now you have me worried.”
So I tell him. The whole story. The horrible gossip shows. The media scrutiny. Zach’s interview. My decision to set him free. I lay it all out. Max is quiet for a moment, then he shakes his head.
“You’ve done it again, haven’t you, Marina?”
I look at him quizzically. “Done what?”
He smirks at me, and it’s a little like looking in the mirror. It’s hard not to feel a sense of pride that he takes after me in a small way.
“You’ve made a decision that wasn’t yours to make,” he says, his voice laced with sadness.
“No, that’s not—”
“Ten years ago, you decided I was better off without you in my life,” he says.
His words cut deep. He’s right. I did do that.
“Did you ask me what I wanted?”
I shake my head.
“No, you sure didn’t. You thought you knew better. And I spent ten years without my only sister.”
I inhale sharply at the pain that punches through his words, and he looks chagrined.
“Hey,” he says gently. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to stop you from making a really bad decision. I saw you two together for just a few hours and I could see you have something special.”
I shake my head. “The decision has been made, Max. It’s done.”
“Oh, and you can’t take it back?” he pushes.
I don’t want to think about any of this right now. I’m at my emotional threshold. And I am so, so tired of crying.
“Marina, if I could make one wish in this world, it would be for you to truly believe that you are worth fighting for. You fight for everyone else. Fiercely. But you don’t think you’re worthy of the same. You are.”
Tears again. I put my head back against my headboard and let them fall, then grab a handful of tissues from the box on my nightstand.
“I’ve missed you so much, Max,” I say in a wobbly voice. “Thank you for all that.”
He nods firmly. “No problem, sis.”
“Can we talk about something else? Otherwise, I’m going to get severely dehydrated. I’ve done nothing but cry for days.”
His eyes fill with concern again. “As long as you promise to think about what I said.”
I nod.
“So what do you want to talk about now?” he asks.
I think for a moment, then grin at him and say, “Red licorice.”
***
Marina
This day will never end.
It’s finally Friday. Proposal day.
Initially, the plan was to have breakfast here at the office during a meet & greet for the staff, then go over the proposal, and then out to a fancy lunch to celebrate. The end.
That all changed yesterday when Ms. Taft decided that she wanted a whole dog and pony show after breakfast in order to tout the many services available at the firm. Lunch was changed to a different location, which was difficult to manage last minute, and we added a fancy dinner tonight. Since I’m not going to a certain concert tonight, I guess it’s no big deal .
I ended up falling asleep right after my video chat with Max, so I missed seeing the girls again. I meant to go back out there and smooth things over, but I didn’t get that far. Instead, I sent them a text from my seat on the bus this morning.
Marina: Fell asleep after my video call last night, guys, I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you hanging.
Scarlet: We know. We checked on you.
Marina: You did?
Merry: Who do you think put you under the covers and turned off the light?
Marina: I really love you guys.
Ashley: Enough to go to the Rebels concert with us tonight?
Marina: You know I can’t do that, Ash.
Merry: You can do anything you want to.
Marina: You girls go and have fun. I’ll be exhausted anyway. Love you.
Ashley: :-/
Now I’m sitting in the executive conference room, fighting to keep my focus. Ms. Taft is seated at the head of the table, and Montclair is to her right. Department heads from both firms are seated around the table, and several executive assistants are in chairs against the wall. As per usual, I’m in the hot seat to Ms. Taft’s left in case she needs anything.
Someone touches my arm and I jump out of my reverie. I glance to my left to see a concerned look from Kat, one of Montclair’s team. She’s around my age and seems nice enough. I have no idea why she works for a jerk like him. Then again, I work for the Evil Queen.
I give her a curious look.
“I just wanted to say how excited I am,” Kat whispers. “I’ve loved following your story in the media. It’s so romantic.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly, looking over at Montclair.
He’s certainly drawn this out as long as he can. The man loves to be the center of attention. I look up at the clock on the conference room wall. It’s after 6 pm, and we’re officially going to be late for our dinner reservation at a very exclusive restaurant in Nob Hill.
“Maybe we’ll get to work together a little now that our companies are besties.” She grins.
I offer Kat a bland smile, stealing a glimpse at Ms. Taft out of the corner of my eye. She’s practically drooling as she fixes her eyes on Montclair. His hand hovers above the contract he’s about to sign, and he looks at Kat and me.
“What are you two talking about in such hushed tones over there?” His tone is teasing, but I don’t like being the focus of any kind of attention from him.
Kat waves a hand. “Oh, I’m just sharing with Marina how excited I was to meet the famous mermaid. I just love her story.”
Ms. Taft narrows her gaze at me. She looks furious that I’ve stolen the attention away from the big moment.
“I couldn’t agree more, Kat. But I never much cared for The Royal Rebels,” Montclair drawls, picking a bit of lint from his jacket and giving me a pointed look. “Their music is just okay.”
I hate how defensive his words make me feel. How insulted I am on Zach’s behalf, even though I don’t have the right to be anything on his behalf anymore. Not after what I did. Even if it was for his own good.
Wait, what?
“Are you kidding?” Kat argues. “They’ve had some great hits. ‘All You’, ‘Take My Hand’, and my favorite is ‘You Are My Heart’. That song is so beautiful!”
Suddenly, it feels like an electric current is passing over my skin. My pulse picks up, and I feel flushed.
You Are My Heart .
Something clicks inside my addled brain. That’s the song Zach was humming in my ear that night as we danced on stage in the empty stadium. I recognized it, but couldn’t place it. As if it’s happening right now, I hear his voice humming the melody to the song. I feel his arms around me as we slow danced in the middle of the stage. The lyrics spin through my head as Ms. Taft tries to bring the focus back to Montclair and the big signing.
And for you, I’d walk through fire . My heart lurches. He would have, wouldn’t he? I’d sell my soul, burn with desire. One look from Zach was enough for me to catch fire. I’ll swim oceans, fly across the sky . Our impromptu flight to San Diego comes to mind. Just don’t leave me, don’t say goodbye. I literally did that. I did that. And I stomped on his heart on the way out.
I’m vaguely aware of someone calling my name, but my mind just keeps burning through the lyrics, finding meaning in each and every word. I fell for you from the very start . And he did. I know he did. My mind wanders back to his expression when he stepped through the crowd of onlookers in the middle of the bridge. I try to remember what he said to me on the bus.
Unbothered…but completely bewitched. That’s what he said.
An overwhelming wave of regret and longing sweeps over me.
What have I done?
Max was right. I did the same thing to Zach that I did to Max: I made his decision for him and completely discounted myself in the process. I made myself the problem and shoved him away because I thought he’d be better off without me. He’s the one who gets to decide what he can handle and what he can’t. And he’s the one who gets to decide whether I’m worth sticking around for. And I’m worth it to him, I know it in my very core. I’m worth it to him.
“Marina? Helloooo?” Ms. Taft says loudly, making me jump.
I look over at her. She’s absolutely incensed. “I’m sorry…what? ”
“I asked you to call the restaurant and tell them we’re running late,” she says in a patronizing tone. “Honestly.”
My mind drifts back to Zach, who wanted me to fight for him. Instead, I fought to be in this room with these people who don’t deserve a place in my story. Well, maybe Hillary, who’s seated at the back near her boss. But the rest of these people haven’t done one thing to earn an ounce of the energy I’ve spent working for them. What am I even doing here?
Something touches my leg under the table, and I jump in my seat, earning me a scathing look from Ms. Taft. I mouth an apology automatically and settle back down. That is until I look across the table and find Ethan Montclair raising an eyebrow at me. Something brushes my leg again, and I realize it’s him. He’s reaching his foot across and is touching my bare leg. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s crawling. Unable to stand it another second, I stand up and shove my chair back.
Ms. Taft glares up at me. “What has come over you, Marina? Sit down.”
I make eye contact with Hillary at the back of the room. She gives me a determined nod as if to say I’m with you . I turn my attention to Ethan Montclair.
“You need to keep your hands and feet to yourself, Mr. Montclair,” I declare boldly. “Don’t ever touch me, or any other woman in this office, again. Ms. Taft seems to be the only one here who wants your slimy attention.”
He laughs loudly, looking me up and down as if he’s enjoying this immensely.
Ms. Taft scoffs loudly. “That is enough! What is going on?”
“I told you what is going on, and you wouldn’t believe me,” I explain, pointing at Montclair. “This man has been disrespecting my personal boundaries since the day he stepped into this office. He’s been banking on me needing my job so badly that I wouldn’t say anything about all the creepy touches and bumps. But I did. I told you, and you refused to do anything. You belittled me instead. Honestly, I think you two deserve each other.”
Pure anger flashes in Ms. Taft’s eyes. “How dare you, I—”
“Has anyone else here had to endure Mr. Montclair’s creepy behavior?” I ask loudly, raising my own hand. “I’m betting there’s more than just me.”
Hillary slowly raises her hand, and I want to run over and hug her. So do three other women, including Kat. I put my hand on her shoulder and give her a little squeeze. Montclair looks at her and scoffs.
“Wishful thinking, ladies,” he drawls. “I’m just a little clumsy.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve had enough. These aren’t my people. They don’t deserve one more second of my time or energy. I’m done wasting my life with people who don’t see my value. Because there are people who do see it. That’s who I should be with.
“I’m sorry, but there’s somewhere else I need to be,” I interrupt breathlessly. I gather my things but leave the copy of the proposal on the table. I turn to Ms. Taft. “For the record, I quit.”
“Without notice? How typical,” Ms. Taft bites back. “And you call yourself a professional? You have a lot to learn, Marina.”
I turn and give her a cold look.
“No, I am most definitely a professional, which is why I will not tolerate this kind of behavior for one more second,” I say coolly, and then I look at the other women in the room. “I will, of course, be filing the appropriate paperwork with the California Civil Rights Department. If any of you would like to join me, I’ll be in touch.”
The last thing I see is Ms. Taft’s mouth fall open as I turn on my heel and walk out of the conference room.