Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lauren
I spent the next week crisscrossing the country, checking in with clients. At least four of them had been approached by Thad. Three had invested in his crypto scheme.
And now the weasel wasn’t answering my calls or texts.
It probably didn’t help that I led with “Where the fuck are you, you pimple-balled asshole?” A week ago, I had wanted to explain why we weren’t compatible and let him down more easily than that Malbec facial. Now I just wanted to wring his stupid neck.
Everyone I spoke with thought this ask was approved by me. The client who handed over fifty thousand dollars wasn’t too impressed when I told him that Thad didn’t have my backing. When he called to say my ex-boyfriend was incommunicado, I sensed he was reconsidering his representation.
But I couldn’t not tell my clients. Now my entire business was in danger of collapsing. This was what happened when you trusted a finance bro.
In the Uber home from the airport after my flight from Denver, I was tempted to confront him face to face at his apartment (after stopping off at my office first to pick up Gunnar’s stick).
But it was one of those perfect summer evenings with candy floss strands of pinks and orange blazing across the sky, and the thought of seeing Thad depressed me too much.
So I headed home, wishing it felt more like that and less like a construction site.
I had thought the summer would give me the break I needed. But my life was imploding: Thad, my career, and this clusterfuck of a situation with Alexei.
But at least I’d scored a man-made orgasm out of it. It would need to tide me over for, well, life. Because I sure as hell would not be that vulnerable ever again.
I opened the door to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” which meant Gunnar was here. Nineties grunge was his jam. I placed my roller board in the hallway and walked into the living room.
Not Gunnar.
Instead, my husband stood on a ladder with a paint roller and tray, and boy, did he look good.
Those broad shoulders, tapering to trim hips and a slim waist. Don’t even get me started on the perfect ass, lovingly cupped in denim.
After the trip I’d had, it was such a simple pleasure to watch him like this.
Nothing was resolved. My problems were still mountains. But I could appreciate this beauty before me.
I let out a satisfied sigh—though it emerged more like a whimper—and he turned, wobbled, and righted himself.
“You’re home.”
Home. It felt more like it now, and that scared me more than the rubble under which I was buried.
“Did Gunnar pull a Tom Sawyer on you?”
“A what?”
I smiled. “Never mind. I can’t believe you’re here.”
He descended the ladder and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. “He said you were due in late. I hoped to have it done before you got here.”
“I took an earlier flight.” I sat on the sofa, currently draped in a drop cloth. It would probably ruin my suit, but I was too tired to care.
He sat at the other end. “How was your trip?”
“Not great.” I waved it off, not wanting to go into details. “Right now, I just want to shower and order a pizza.”
“How about some homemade mac n’ cheese?”
I grasped his arm. “Get out.”
“I made it this afternoon for my father, but I had too much and I assumed you would be hungry. It is in the fridge. But we can order a pizza, if you like.”
“No, mac n’ cheese sounds amazing. I’ll take a shower and—”
“About that.” He grimaced. “A pipe burst while you were gone. It flooded the upstairs bathroom and damaged the ceiling in the kitchen.”
I shot up and ran to the kitchen. A rust-tinged wet patch was centered ominously above my head.
“So the water is—”
“Off. The plumber needs a part and he’ll be here tomorrow. Gunnar came across it this morning.”
“And how did you get involved?”
“We had lunch a few days ago at Theo’s and he asked if I wanted to help. You know I don’t have enough to do.”
His wry delivery made me smile, but then the reality hit me. This fucking clunker of a house!
I took a deep breath, desperate to stave off a meltdown, but this week had blown donkey balls.
The one thing that should have been my biggest problem—my secret husband—was being decidedly unproblematic.
Couldn’t he have just been the biggest thorn in my side, so I could put the rest into perspective?
“Lauren, are you alright?”
I burst into tears. So, no.
“Kotyonok, my kitten, it’s okay.” He pulled me into his arms, and I went easy.
There was something incredibly right about his hold and how comfortable I felt there.
“We will fix all of this. The plumber will take care of it. I told Gunnar he should have warned you, but he said he would tell you later.”
“This week has truly sucked, Alexei.”
“Because of Brad?”
“Yes, but not because we broke up. That would have happened sooner or later. You know he’s been asking my clients to invest money. Well, I’m pretty sure he’s been scamming them, and probably others.”
“Tell me.”
I filled in the details, while he rubbed my back. Once I had finished my tale of woe, he took a beat, then said, “No one will blame you, Lauren.”
“No? I lost a client while I was on the plane back from Denver. He didn’t even invest, but word is out and he says I have a conflict of interest and that I should have known what Thad was doing. It’s my father all over again.”
When I was twelve, right after my father’s incarceration, I went to a holiday cookout with Gunnar and Sadie at Chase Manor, home of Harper, the Rebels owner.
One of the players had invested everything with my father and it was all gone.
His wife had kicked him out and he was at risk of losing access to his kids.
He got in Sadie’s face, blaming her for our father’s crimes, for everything that had happened to him. And that was just one incident.
There were also nasty, anonymous notes telling my father to burn in hell with his dead wife. Sadie thought she had hidden them from me, but I found them in a drawer in his study. So I knew exactly how betrayed people felt when they were let down like this.
That feeling—that shame—was now lodged in the pit of my stomach.
“I wouldn’t blame them. I have a fiduciary responsibility to my clients, to look out for their financial and professional interests. And now Thad’s not even answering my calls.”
“Why would you want to talk to him?”
I sniffed. “I need to know how he’s going to make it right with anyone who invested in his schemes. I have no idea how bad it is, only the corner of my world that it’s touched. And now I can’t even take a fucking shower!”
“That is easily fixed. I have hooked up a hose in the backyard.”
I stared at him.
“Too soon?” He smiled, and a chip of ice around my heart broke away like an iceberg detaching from a glacier. Not usually good for the environment, but in this moment, good for me. “Go pack a change of clothes. You will come to my house, take a shower, eat, and remove yourself from this chaos.”
“And into the fire I go.”
“I will take care of my father. He will not bother you.”
I shook my head. “God, no, I don’t mean your dad. I meant you. The burning problem of the day.”
“That is old news. I will be a complete gentleman. You have nothing to worry about on that score.”
More’s the pity.