30. Michelle
MICHELLE
Ten days at a beach rental was plenty. I’m not built for stillness, and dwelling on things doesn’t change them. What’s done is done. I’ve climbed out of deeper holes. I’ll be fine.
The cab pulls up to my apartment. I get out, bag over my shoulder.
My first order of business is to find a new job.
That might take some work. I’ve got the numbers to back me up, but I’m not exactly known for being warm and fuzzy around the office.
Still, someone out there wants results. I just need to make it look like I’m choosing my next move, not scrambling for one.
Don’t look desperate, I tell myself.
I spot movement up the block. Parked at the curb is a black Mustang. The same one I saw outside my building that night. Levi and Drew stand beside it.
Most people don’t scare me. These two set off every instinct I have. It’s not just their size, though that’s part of it. It’s their stillness. An unnatural calm that says they’ve seen it all and nothing surprises them. They move like the rules are optional. For them, maybe they are.
They’re leaning against the car, arms crossed in a posture that’s meant to look casual but isn’t.
I square my shoulders and I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of them.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
Drew flashes an easy grin. “Just admiring the neighborhood.”
“You’re following me.”
“No,” he replies, smile still in place. “We’re just letting him know when you’re back. Easy money.”
“Not that easy,” Levi mutters, looking at me. “Try putting up with him all day.”
“Me? You’re the one with no sense of humor. You’re a black hole of fun.”
“I just fail to see what’s funny about you fucking someone in my car,” Levi snaps. “I was gone fifteen minutes. You couldn’t help yourself.”
“I wiped the seat down—”
“You could gut and reupholster the whole interior and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“Oh, please. Like you haven’t—”
“That’s enough,” I cut in. “Tell Dean that if I see either of you again, I’m calling the police. Are we clear?”
Drew lifts his hands in a mock surrender. Levi just nods once, his jaw tight. I turn and start toward my building.
“Wait,” Drew calls out. He looks at Levi. “The letter.”
“What letter?” Levi asks, already annoyed.
“The one he gave you. Where is it?”
Levi shrugs. “I don’t carry it on me.”
“I don’t want a letter,” I say without turning around.
“We don’t care what you want,” Drew says. “You take it, or we don’t get paid.”
I stop and face them again. “How about I pay you to leave me alone?”
“Got twenty on you?”
I reach for my purse, and they laugh. That’s when it clicks. Twenty thousand. Of course Dean would pay that much just to keep me in his sights. It’s absurd. But if he wants to burn money watching me, he can have at it.
They start digging through the car, bickering the whole time. Doors slam. Someone curses. Drew finally straightens, a thick envelope in his hand. He holds it out, then snatches it back just before my fingers touch it.
“He said don’t rip it up. Said it’s important. Legal stuff.”
“Fine,” I say, snatching the envelope from Drew’s hand. I slide it into my bag without looking at it.
“If things don’t work out with—” Drew starts.
“Get in the car, Romeo, before I throw you in the trunk,” Levi says.
They climb into the Mustang. The engine growls, tires bite the asphalt, and the car disappears around the corner.
I stay where I am, watching the empty street. I know what this means. Dean isn’t done. He’ll see persistence as a virtue, a way to muscle his way back in like he always does. But he’s wrong.
I step inside my apartment and close the door behind me. The air is still and stale. A thin layer of dust coats the side table, the windowsills, the shade of a lamp I never use. It’s too quiet. I don’t pick Monty up from the cat hotel until later this afternoon. The place feels empty without him.
I drop my bag by the couch and move on autopilot. I put my clothes into the laundry, wipe down the counters, chew a few crackers from the pantry. They’re probably expired, but they’ll do. It’s all mechanical, just enough to keep my hands busy and my mind blank. Eventually, my eyes land on my bag.
I let out a slow breath and take the envelope out, turning it over in my hands. Might as well get it over with. See what kind of ridiculous play this is.
I break the seal and start to read.
Michelle,
I’m not going to explain myself. You already know what I did.
When you asked if there was anything else, I said no. That was a lie. Not one I planned, but a lie just the same. I’d buried what I did so deep I’d forgotten it existed. That doesn’t make it okay. It makes it worse.
What I did isn’t excusable. So I’m not asking you to excuse it. But I’m asking you to trust my motive. I don’t want to control you, or own you. I want to love you. And I do. More than anything.
I’ve attached the deed for Pierce Real Estate. Vinnie is gone. The agency is yours, free and clear.
My only regret is the pain I caused you. But I’m not giving up on us. I never will.
I’d cross any line for you.
—Dean
I read the letter slowly, one line at a time. When I finish, I’m standing in my living room, gripping the page so tightly my knuckles ache.
This isn’t what I expected. I thought he’d apologize, explain himself, try to justify it. He did none of that. He admits it. Owns it. And calls it love.
I don’t flinch from the word. I take a long breath. I believe his motive. I don’t think he wanted to control me or cage me. He did it because I wouldn’t let him close, and instead of walking away, he forced the door open.
That doesn’t make it right. But motive matters.
I slide the deed out from beneath the letter.
He used the condos as leverage to force Vinnie to sell.
I know that. And I can’t pretend I feel bad about it.
I thought I’d made peace with losing the agency.
I told myself walking away was healthier.
But part of me knew I was leaving something unfinished.
Now it’s mine. It’s safe. That matters too.
So does Dean. I tested him from the beginning.
I challenged him, pushed him, gave him every reason to walk away.
A normal man would have. But Dean stayed, like retreat wasn’t an option.
I wasn’t easy for him. I kept him at arm’s length.
I didn’t give him room to help without consequence.
I’m not justifying what he did, but I understand it.
Maybe if the tables were turned, I’d have done the same for him. Because I love him.
Love doesn’t disappear on command. I learned that with Jason. It took a long time to stop loving him, even after I knew exactly who he was. Feelings don’t obey logic or timelines, no matter how badly you want them to.
Maybe there’s still hope for us.
This isn’t forgiveness. Not even close. Trust doesn’t just snap back into place.
But I can’t lie to myself. Part of me still wants him. Needs him, if I’m being honest. And I can’t pretend I didn’t have a hand in how we ended up here. He was wrong, yes. But so was I.
I sink onto the couch. Twenty minutes ago, I had nothing. Now I have the business back.
And maybe, my boyfriend too.