28. Gianna
I don’t bother going back inside.Frankly, I want nothing to do with the trainwreck of a conversation going on in there. I really like Gina and Marc, but I don’t understand why they did this the way they did.
Instead, I make my way back to the porch and sit on the steps. Minutes go by, and the cold seeps through my body, chilling me to the core. Eventually, the door creaks open behind me. I resist the instinct to turn and look because I don’t know what I’ll say if it’s one of their other kids.
The daughter was more than a little bit upset that Cam and I were there. And Ian seemed pretty pissed at me specifically.
“Hey, we should probably go.” Cam sits down next to me, and I can feel the heat radiating off of his body.
“Yeah, probably,” I agree, but make no move to go. The weight of the night and the repercussions of my own actions settle around me, and suddenly I’m sinking into a vat of cement. I’m so tired.
“This is probably the worst reception we’ve ever had,” Cam whispers. He sounds upset.
“Family businesses. They can be messy.” My words sound hollow even to my own ears, and even though Cam is technically my boss, I can’t muster up anything more.
He grunts, sounding more like his usual grumpy self, and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get outta here. I don’t want to cross paths with Princess Wright again tonight.”
The comment about the daughter being a princess throws me. Cam usually doesn’t talk about our clients like that. Maybe she said something after I left to encourage the nickname. More than likely, she did.
We’re both quiet on the drive back to the bed and breakfast, Cam steaming visibly, and me quietly berating myself for every single decision I’ve made since landing back in Ever Lake.
He snags a close parking spot right out front and when he cuts the engine, silence grows around us.
“I should have told him.” I let out a sigh that’s been building for what feels like twelve hours. “Would you have? Told him?” I glance over at Cam, but he’s looking out the window.
“Gia, I’ll be honest. I simply wouldn’t have gotten into this kind of situation with a client.”
Helpful.
“Client”s son,” I correct him, knowing he won’t let it fly.
“He’s part of the family, so he’s part of the client.”
“I don’t know what to do.” I drop my head, cradling it in my hands.
“I’m not exactly an expert, but my guess is talking to him would be a good first step.”
“He told me he didn’t want to talk.”
“Well…” Cam trails off and finally looks at me, his brow furrowing. “Hey, aren’t you headed back east for a few days?”
I’d completely forgotten about that, but he’s right. I’d planned to fly home tomorrow to celebrate my Nonna’s birthday. I mean, I still plan to, obviously, only now the timing is just the worst. I am suddenly completely overwhelmed. “Yeah, I am.”
“That might make things on the communication front a bit complicated…”
“Yeah. Thank you, Cam. Super helpful, as always.” I let my sarcasm run free and sigh. “Can you still drive me to Denver for the flight?”
“Sure thing, G, whatever you need. I’m not chomping at the bit to return to The Wright Lodge, so it’ll be a good break.”
I can’t say I blame him, and I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment.
Once we’re both back in our respective rooms, I peel off my clothes and climb into the shower. I’m hoping that a long, hot stint under the spray will clear my head. Maybe it will make me feel a little better.
Much to my dismay, I feel worse. I end up curled up in bed, still wrapped in my towel, staring at the colorful abstract art hanging on the wall. Somewhere deep in my chest, there’s a dull throb that won’t let up even as I press my fist to it.
“So what you’re telling me is that your actions, which were potentially not the best, have come back to bite you in the ass?” Simone glances over at me from the driver”s side of her car.
“Simone, I love you, but I’m not above telling your mom about my tenth birthday sleepover.”
Scoffing, she eases to a stop at a light. I watch a group of teenagers cross the street even though I can feel her eyes on me.
“That would be incredibly unkind.” She sniffs, acting offended.
“I won’t remind you again that me even sleeping with Henry was something that you talked me into. I won’t slap you, but I’m not sure that I won’t set you up so your mom does.” I glare at her, but she just laughs it off. It’s a hollow threat. No one in our family would ever actually get violent, although our parents have perfected the art of striking the fear of God into us kids.
Simone’s always been the most intense of my cousins, and I’m sure she knows me well enough to know that I won’t tell her mom about the time she “borrowed” our great grandmother”s pearls and acted like they were my birthday gift.
Truthfully, a slap would be the least of her concern. We’re just lucky that we returned the pearls to her mom”s jewelry box before we were found out.
“Listen, I’m sorry things blew up. Have you talked to him at all?” She takes the turn into the parking lot of my apartment.
“Not a peep. I sent a few texts, and I called him once I landed in Boston, but it went straight to voicemail.”
Simone hisses out a breath, puts her car in park, and looks at me. Tears burn my eyes and I swallow around the giant lump of hurt that has lodged itself in my throat.
“Oh shit.”
“What?” I try to swipe my hand under my eye casually, but the move just makes more tears drop.
“You fucking like him.” She leans over the console and takes my face into her hands.
“Simone…” I try to warn her away from the subject, but a sob breaks through, which doesn’t help my case.
“Oh no, G. You really like him, like love like, and you inadvertently hurt him, and now you’re literally across the country, and he won’t talk to you.” She breaks down my seemingly very complicated situation so simply.
I finally turn to look at her, letting my tears drop freely now. An unintended laugh escapes, and I hiccup. “Yeah, pretty much. What am I going to do?”
“Well, babe, first you’re going to go inside and shower, and I’ll order some Mexican food. Use at least ten of the twenty body scrubs and hair masks or whatever you’ve got in your shower to make you feel a little better. I’ll double our usual margarita order.”
“And then?”
“Let’s focus on tonight before we worry about tomorrow, okay?” She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.
I take a deep breath, but don’t even try to make the tears stop. Now that they’ve started, there’s no point. I can’t even think past the shower.
So, I don’t. I let Simone carry some of my stuff upstairs, and I quietly make my way to the bathroom. I hear Simone calling in our order just before I turn the shower on and let myself have the breakdown that’s been building since last night.
And I don’t worry about anything other than getting all my feelings out and feeding myself.
Tomorrow I can worry about what I’m going to do about this thing with Henry.
Tonight, I’ll just cry about it.
And maybe drink about it.