Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Shaye
I check my phone again.
Nothing.
No missed calls, no texts, no voicemails.
I sigh, heading to the kitchen because I don’t know what else to do.
The early afternoon television shows are awful.
They aren’t nearly as interesting as they were when I was a little girl and would stay with Grandma.
Back then, the afternoons were filled with talk shows, pseudo-advice programs, and game shows with glittery wheels. Now, everything looks dull.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I called Toni this morning and told her I was sick. She said she’d inform Oliver and to get well soon. That was hours ago and still—no feedback.
He has to know I’m not coming by now.
I sit at the table. An empty pop can from last night rattles next to a magazine. It was a late night—long and dark—and I don’t look forward to the sun going down tonight.
My mom used to say that everything felt worse at night. She said that it’s because you can’t do anything about what’s bothering you except worry. I believed her. It made sense. Throughout my life, that’s held true.
Until now.
It doesn’t matter if the sun is up or down, if I’ve eaten or not, if I’ve showered or gotten any sleep—it sucks. Period.
A part of me wants to hope that this can be fixed. Another part of me wants to accept that it can’t. I have an inkling to accept reality just so I can start the task of wading through the pain that will come once I accept that this is over.
Because I don’t think I’ve done that yet. I don’t think I’ve really let myself fall into that abyss because it’s going to be a long and lonely hole to claw my way out of.
“I need to call Nate and see about getting more hours until I get back on my feet,” I mutter out loud. I close my eyes briefly. “Again.”
I hate this. I hate being so beholden to situations. If only Luca hadn’t left me with that fucking debt.
The mail I was going through yesterday is beneath the magazine. I pull them toward me while I figure out what to say to the temp agency when I call them later looking for a job.
“I fucked my boss, and now I’m unemployed,” I say out aloud. “Yes, I have a problem with men, trust me, so if you could find me a female boss this time, that would be great.”
I roll my eyes at myself.
The top envelope is from Luca’s loan company. My stomach sours as I rip it open. The paper inside is perfectly folded and addressed to me.
Dear Mrs. Brewer,
We would like to certify your payment and confirm that your balance of $86,487.09 has been paid in full. Please retain this letter for your records. Should you need additional information, you may call us during normal business hours.
Sincerely,
Thomas Bjorn
I read it again. And then for a third time. By the fourth time that I read Dear Mrs. Brewer, my hands are shaking.
The paper falls to the table as I grab my phone. I have to hit Lisbeth’s name twice for it to call her.
“Hi,” she says. “How are you feeling today? Want me to come over?”
“Do you know what he did?”
“Um, I’m thinking the he you’re referring to is Oliver, but if you could clarify—”
“Yes. Oliver.” I stare at the letter so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t burst into flames. “Do you know what he did?”
“You already asked me that, and I do not.”
My body trembles. Adrenaline pours through me, and I can’t quite get a grip on my emotions.
“He paid Luca’s loan off, Lis. He paid eighty-six thousand dollars.”
The number is staggering. And given that I’d only paid fourteen thousand off over the last three years, it makes me even angrier. There was still so far to go.
“Oh, wow,” she breathes.
A small laugh of disbelief escapes my throat as I stand at the head of the table and continue to stare at the letter.
When did he do this? Why?
My memory shuffles to yesterday—to before the Marius incident—and I recall getting the letter in the mail.
So he did this before he broke up with me.
Tears fill my eyes because this is another complication that I didn’t want or need.
This was hard enough before. I didn’t ask for this.
And I still owe the money … just to a different place.
A place where I would never have done it.
I would never have mixed money with any relationship—especially this one.
“Why would he do this?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No. I really don’t. I just … I don’t know what to do, Lis.”
Was this his way of making me beholden to him? Was this his way of keeping me under his thumb?
The similarities between my relationship with Luca and with Oliver begin to bleed together.
Both men held things over my head. Both men thought the worst of me. Both men broke my heart.
I close my eyes and feel anger erupting from my core. It’s hot—molten—as it flows through my veins.
“Hang on,” I say into the phone before pulling it away from my ear.
I pull up my personal email account.
To: omason@
From: Shaye Brewer
Re: Loan
Dear Mr. Mason,
I just received a letter informing me that a loan in my name was paid in full. I only know of one person who would be able to satisfy that note.
Please be advised that I will be contacting an attorney to set up a repayment plan with you in the coming days.
Best,
Shaye
I hit send.
“What did you just do?” Lisbeth asks.
“I sent him an email and told him that I would be paying him back.”
“And you did that why?”
“Because I’m not going to owe him a damn thing.”
My email dings. I put Lisbeth on speakerphone.
To: Shaye Brewer
From: Oliver Mason, CEO
Re: Loan
Shaye,
Any repayments will not be accepted. Please save yourself the time. Also, I’m sorry I did not have time to explain this in person. That was not my intent.
Best,
Oliver
“Why? Why is he doing this?” I ask, my fingers already typing out a new message.
To: Toni Marquez
Cc: Oliver Mason
From: Shaye Brewer
Re: Two-Weeks’ Notice
Dear Ms. Marquez,
Please accept this email as my formal resignation as executive assistant from Mason Limited, effective two weeks from today’s date.
I endeavor to make this process as painless as possible.
However, I am ill and may not make it back into the office.
Please let me know if you have any questions or if I can help out from home.
Best,
Shaye Brewer
I read it aloud to Lisbeth.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks.
“Definitely.”
“Then send it but I think you should sit on it for a while.”
“Sitting on it is what got me in this situation.”
Lisbeth laughs. “At least you still have your sense of humor, I guess.”
I hit send.