59 Rei
One week later
On my way out of my office, I stopped at the light switch and turned around to examine the room.
All the tiny pieces of Conrad’s fake diplomas and lamps had been cleared away.
Now the room was clean, with soft lighting and photos I chose hanging on the wall behind my desk.
The trio of black-and-white images were from my wedding day.
In the center was me in my wedding gown in front of the fake Eiffel Tower.
On the right side was a photo of Jada and me in wedding attire, hugging each other, smiling big.
And on the left, a photo of my first kiss with Quentin.
On my desk, there was a framed photo of George walking me down the aisle, a reminder that I got to choose my family, whether by blood, adoption, or simply by choice.
Of course, the rest of the room was designed to match my style too.
There was a cozy plush chair in the corner, a desk chair wide enough so I could sit crisscross if I pleased, and a wardrobe in the corner to hold all my outfit changes, because if I was going to have clothes designed by THE Ambrosia, I needed to have them ready at any moment.
With a peaceful sigh, I flicked off the switch and left the office. Steve walked alongside me in the hallway, hand on the small gun on his holster. I preferred that better than the big one.
George’s wife, Scarlett, smiled at me from her seat at the reception desk. “Enjoy your afternoon, and tell my husband I love him.”
I smiled. “You know I will.”
Steve and I walked out of the office, where a running car waited for us.
On the way to MyHome, George and I chitchatted while Steve kept an eye on cars around us. After nearly dying, I’d never complain about him or his guns again. We were still trying out nicknames though.
When we got to The Tower, George held the door open for me.
“Scarlett and I will see you tomorrow morning.” Now that she worked for me, we could all ride together in the morning.
It was fun seeing them interact and gave me hope that maybe Quentin and I would have a kind, loving relationship like them in another twenty or thirty years.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I agreed, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Let’s get inside,” Steve said, glancing around.
With a nod, I walked into MyHome with Steve at my back. For a moment, I looked around, taking it all in. The wall of sticky notes—the start of my love story. The Caf where Jada and I formed our friendship. The barista I could always count on for a good drink and conversation.
MyHome had really become home, and I’d miss working here every day. But I was glad I could come back any time to see my husband.
Today, Jada and I were meeting for a drink in the Caf before our first double date.
She waved at me from one of the tables and I walked over to her, giving her a big hug. Then I bent to smile at Twyla in her carrier. “You’re just the prettiest girl,” I said, tucking her little hand around my pointer finger.
Twyla slept away, and I eyed Jada. “You’re always talking about her keeping you up, but the girl is forever asleep!”
Jada scoffed. “Come visit at two in the morning, and she’ll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for you!”
I chuckled, sliding into a seat and checking the cup in front of me.
“Dirty chai, just like you like,” Jada said.
I smiled and took a grateful sip. I was about to ask if she was excited for our first double date when Dominic called out, “Mama! You need to hear my demo!”
I turned in my chair to see him coming around the coffee counter with his phone. He had on his uniform and apron, but still looked punk rock with his long hair and eyeliner.
“Demo?” I asked.
“Like a song?” Jada added.
He nodded. “The song I wrote about you—it’s online now. It’s called ‘The One Who.’” He put the phone on the table between us. “Listen and then bring it back. Duty calls.”
After he was a good few feet away, Jada whispered, “I hope this is good because I can’t lie. I’m too tired for that.”
“Fingers crossed,” I replied.
I pressed play on his phone, feeling Dominic’s eyes on my back.
The song started with a guitar riff, and I raised my eyebrows, already impressed. “The audio quality’s really good,” I told him over my shoulder.
“Listen!” he chided.
I mimicked zipping my lips closed and listened to the lyrics. Each one was surprisingly poetic, but the bridge stuck in my mind the most.
The one who got away
becomes the one who shows you what’s possible
becomes the one who’s a part of your story,
becomes the one who you think of from time to time,
becomes the one who’s a happy memory
because one day the one who got away
becomes just someone along the way.
As the song faded away, I realized tears were falling down my cheeks. I was so moved by the music. Jada looked at me agape. “Wow,” she breathed.
“Wow.” I nodded and wiped at my tears. The song had just been another reminder that no matter how much I tried to be invisible, people saw the real me. And maybe I really was worth seeing. All of me, not just the parts I curated for public consumption.
I hadn’t realized Dominic had come closer until he asked, “Tell me you didn’t hate it.”
I stared at the guy with long hair, a strip dyed electric blue, like he refused to look boring even in his barista uniform. “You wrote that?” I asked.
A bashful grin dimpled his cheeks. “Yeah, but, I mean, you inspired me.”
My cheeks flamed, and I got up to hug Dominic. “You’re going to make it big,” I told him, and I meant it with all my heart.
Another MyHome employee approached the coffee counter, requiring Dominic’s attention, and Jada and I returned to our conversation until both our drinks were empty.
Jada looked at her watch and said, “Maybe we were supposed to meet them upstairs?”
Glancing at my phone, I realized Quentin and Bryce were about fifteen minutes late. That wasn’t like Q at all. “Maybe we should go check on them.” A nervous flutter went through my stomach, but I shoved it down. Just because I’d been attacked didn’t mean everything was wrong all of the time.
We walked to the elevators, Jada carrying Twyla while I held my purse and the diaper bag. Jada told me about her latest doctor appointment where the doctor cleared her for... recreational activities and asked if I was up to babysit.
“Of course I will,” I said, trying to sound excited for her. If only I could shake this anxious feeling making it hard to breathe.
We rode silently to the top, but as soon as the elevator doors opened, shouting reached our ears from down the hall.
Jada and I gave each other a nervous look. “Wait here with Twyla,” I told her, hurrying closer to the sound of the yelling. I had to make sure Quentin was okay.
At the end of the hall, I saw all five founders and Simon in a glass-encased conference room.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY THINK THEY’RE DOING? SERVING ME? THEY’RE GOING TO FUCKING REGRET THIS,” Simon Stone screamed, rattling his walker.
“Simon,” Bryce soothed in a muffled voice, “relax, we can talk to your lawyers about this.”
Someone with a messenger bag walked so quickly past me that my hair fluttered with a breeze.
That must have been the person to serve the legal papers. I recognized them well enough now dealing with lawsuits and investigations of my own.
“RELAX?” Simon yelled. A marker clattered against the glass. “MY KIDS ARE SUING TO BE MY POWER OF ATTORNEY!”
Jude reached for the phone. “I’m calling your lawyers.”
Simon pressed his face into his hands. “Don’t you see what this means?” He fell roughly into a chair. “If Jasper’s my power of attorney, he can rewrite my will and make sure you never get my shares of MyHome. He could sign them all over to himself before I die, and you five will never get a dime.”
Thank you for reading Married to Lies!