Loved by Him (Wanted Series #6) Page 2

  When he disappeared, I dropped my head and took a deep breath. I could hear my heart beating in my ears.

  “If it’s any consolation-”

  I looked up to see him in the doorway again and immediately began imagining giant voodoo needles coming straight at his head, his heart, and his groin.

  “I guess it was a pretty tough decision.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, wondering what he would do if I asked him what it was like to be a whore-iffic brown nosing lapdog?

  “Anyway, take it easy.”

  At his final words, my mouth fell open. Take it easy? Take it fucking easy?! I hadn’t taken it easy for two seconds since I started this job and now I’d lost out on the promotion of my dreams because I didn’t have a penis to slap by boss’s ass with. It was too much! It was wrong! Surely there were legal repercussions I could take!

  And here was the king of fucking easy street telling me to take it easy!

  Didn’t he know I was the one that did the hard stuff?! That was my goddamn USP! I was the one who did the stuff no one would do, the stuff no one could do! For years.

  What the hell had I been killing myself for if my ass busting was in vain?

  Shit. I hadn’t taken it easy since…

  Oh god.

  I put my elbows on my desk and my head in my hands.

  This was all my fault.

  I’m the one who had shown weakness, the one who had crumpled in front of Deborah, the one she had to put in time out.

  Sure, she’d put me at ease, made me feel like it was perfectly all right to need some R&R on the backend of my years of service to a company that most people were willing to get chewed up and spit out by just to put its big name on their resume.

  And why wouldn’t she pretend it was no big deal?

  I told her I had a goddamn heart problem.

  What if that was the clincher and not Chris’s anatomy?

  I could just imagine it- all the partner’s sitting around and someone asking if anyone had any doubts about whether I could handle the job. And then Deborah might’ve made a face- just enough of a flinch to spread doubt in everyone else’s mind.

  And then it was over.

  And she didn’t even have the fucking balls to tell me to my face! After all that. I couldn’t even count how many times I’d bailed her out, worked weekends, and trained people who had become key staff members.

  And for what?

  To pave a nice cushy way for Chris?

  So he could board a boat that wasn’t burning because of how good I’d gotten at putting out fires?!

  I had to get out of here.

  I stood up so fast I felt lightheaded and sat back down, splaying my fingers out on the desk as if the whole Earth was rumbling beneath me.

  Getting ready to swallow me up.

  Chapter 3: Wyatt

  “Look, Wyatt, I swear to god I’m not keeping anything from you,” Marv said.

  I pulled the pan out of the oven and watched the steam filled bag of chicken, veggies, and spices start to deflate.

  “All I can do is wait to hear from them.”

  “Or you could call and follow up,” I said, closing the oven and turning it off. “Just to make sure we’re not at the bottom of the pile.”

  “We’re not at the bott-”

  “How can you know that if you didn’t follow up?” I asked, wedging the phone between my shoulder and my ear.

  “Cause we’re in their top three.”

  “What?” I asked, grabbing the phone again. “Why didn’t you tell me that? You don’t think that counts as news?!”

  “No, I don’t. A deal is news. There’s no consolation prize for being their second or third favorite song.”

  “Yeah, but-”

  “No buts, Wyatt. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you spent half as much time in the studio as you do hassling me-”

  “What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Finish that sentence.”

  “All I’m saying is that there’s no use in making yourself crazy when all we can do is wait for the producers to get back to us.”

  “I know, bu-”

  “Either they like the song or not-”

  “You just said they liked the song!”

  “You’re right. What I meant to say is that they either pick the song or not, and pacing the floor isn’t going to change anything so start working on something else.”

  I couldn’t. I was too distracted by my desire to know whether or not we got the deal. All I wanted was to be able to give Addison good news tomorrow- fantastic news, news she wasn’t expecting.

  Not to mention the huge win it would be for me.

  And it wasn’t just because of how well the movie was expected to do at the box office. It was also that the producers involved were the kind of people that could really open doors for me if I impressed them. And I so wanted to impress them.

  After all, not only would a relationship like this go a long way towards securing my and Sophie’s future, but these were guys that had been involved in Oscar winning scores. They knew people, people who weren’t in the pop industry. And those were the kinds of people I wanted to work with in the future.

  “I know what you’re saying, Marv,” I said, exhaling slowly. “And you’re right. I know you’ve got better things to do than talk me back from the ledge. I’m just excited about this deal.”

  “I know, Jonesy.”

  “Cause you realize if I pull this off, you’ll never be able to make another joke about me being a wedding singer again.”

  “I know,” he said. “But don’t count your chickens and all that.”

  “When will you know?”

  “Soon.”

  I nodded.

  “And you’ll be the first person I call.”

  “Make that a kiss and we’ve got a deal.”

  He laughed. “Whatever you want.”

  “That’s a good agent.”

  “Now do whatever you have to do to get your mind on something else,” he said. “And I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.”

  I hung up the phone and set it on the counter. “Sophie!” I called, trying to undo the flimsy tie that was coming between me and dinner.

  “What are we having?” Sophie asked, walking into the kitchen.

  “Mediterranean Chicken,” I said, as proudly as if it hadn’t come out of a packet.

  “Sounds fancy.”

  “If you think this is fancy, just wait until I tell you the good news.”

  “Good news?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and peeking around me while I tipped the one bag wonder into a small casserole dish.

  “Yeah. You’re going to like it.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Will you finish setting the table, please?” I asked, getting the plates down from the cupboard so she could carry them across the room.

  She took the plates in her little arms and walked over to the table.

  I joined her a moment later with the sizzling dish and a serving spoon. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Milk, please,” she said, climbing onto her chair.

  I grabbed the milk and two glasses and sat down across from her.

  “So what’s the good news?” she asked.

  “Well,” I said, spooning some chicken onto her plate and picking out the smaller potatoes for her. “You know how you said you’ve never seen me dressed up?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Wait,” I said. “Hear me out before you pass judgement.”

  She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of chicken.

  “That’s going to be scalding,” I said. “Blow on it first so you don’t burn yourself.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m not five, ya know?”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it. Even I forget sometimes and burn myself.”

  “What’s the surprise?!” she asked, blowing on her bite.

  “Do you have plans on Saturday night?”


  One eyebrow slanted up her little forehead. “I don’t know, do I?”

  I smiled. “You do.”

  She touched the chicken on her fork with one finger and then put it in her mouth.

  “I’m taking you downtown for a big night out. We’re going to get all dressed up-”

  “Even you?”

  “Even me,” I said, serving myself. “And we’re going to go out for a nice meal and then to see The Lion King.”

  “The movie?”

  “No, the musical, but you’re going to love it. The music is going to be great and all the actors are going to be in fancy animal costumes.”

  “Cool,” she said, pushing the few mushrooms I snuck into the dish to the side of the plate with her fork. “Just you and me?”

  “Actually, I was thinking we would take Addison along.”

  She cocked her head. “Really?”

  “Sure. Don’t you think she would enjoy our company?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I guess.”

  I raised my eyebrows and reached for the milk, pouring Sophie’s glass first. “What do you mean, you guess?”

  “I mean, don’t you think she has something more glamourous to do?”

  “Like what?”

  “How should I know? I’m just a kid.”

  “I think she would like it. The play is supposed to be fun for all ages.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you don’t mind if she comes?”

  “I guess she can if she wants to.”

  I pursed my lips. “Well, I’ll ask her then.”

  “Okay. That sounds nice.”

  “And then afterwards, you can sleep over at Grandma and Pop pop’s.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Wow. That is a big night.”

  I shrugged. “You deserve it kiddo. School starts in a week and a half.”

  She put her elbow on the table and her cheek against her fist. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Hey- I thought you were excited to go back.”

  “I was.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I found out who my teacher is going to be.”

  “When? I didn’t see anything from school in the mail.”

  “That’s cause I forgot to show it to you.”

  “Was it addressed to you?”

  “No, but Gigi told me what the letter looked like-”

  I sighed.

  “And then she told me Mrs. Stahoviak was the worst!”

  “First of all, you should’ve asked me if you wanted to open something addressed to me.”

  “It said The Jones Family.”

  “Still. Second of all, didn’t Gigi tell you the same thing last year?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Well, I do. And if I recall, you loved Mrs. Stadler.”

  She nodded. “I did, yeah.”

  “So do you think maybe there’s a chance Gigi’s wrong this time, too?”

  Sophie shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Would you want your new teacher to make her mind up about you before she meets you in person?”

  She shook her head.

  “So why don’t you follow the golden rule and give her a chance.”

  She looked down at her plate.

  “Sound fair?”

  Sophie nodded and popped a tomato in her mouth. A second later, she leaned over, ejected it from her mouth, and watched it roll across her plate.

  I took a long drink of milk to keep from saying I told you so.

  “Where are we going for dinner on Saturday?” she asked when she finally stopped fanning her tongue.

  “I was hoping you could help me pick a place,” I said. “I’ve narrowed it down to three places that are close to the theater.”

  “What kind of food does Addison like?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, my chest expanding with warm affection. “I’m sure she would like any place that you were excited about.”

  She smiled. “I do have good taste.”

  “Yes you do,” I said. “And we usually like the same restaurants.”

  Let’s just hope we like the same women.

  Chapter 4: Addison

  After hyperventilating all the way to her house, I had no choice but to follow through and disturb her.

  “Addison- what a nice-” And then she registered my expression. “Are you alright?” Mrs. Collins asked as she pulled me into a soft hug.

  My body went limp in her arms. It was all I could do to lift my hands against her back and drop my chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.”

  “Not at all,” she said, patting my back. “You know you’re welcome anytime.”

  “I just didn’t know where else to go and-”

  She leaned back and looked at my face. “Take a deep breath,” she said, her clear eyes bouncing back and forth between my red ones.

  I pursed my lips, nodded, and inhaled, keeping my eyes on her face where they took comfort in her round cheeks.

  She looked me up and down. “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my ego, I’m afraid.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Do you still take your tea black?”

  I nodded, feeling pathetic that I came to her like this, but what I needed more than anything was to have my feelings validated instead of dismissed. And she was the only person in my life who could deliver the nonjudgmental comfort I so desperately needed right now.

  “Okay.” She pushed her front door open and stepped back inside. “Come in and have a seat. I’ll get us some tea and you can tell me everything.”

  I felt my lungs collapse and fill.

  She dropped her hand to my lower back and led me in the front room.

  “Kids,” she said to no one in particular. “I need you to play outside for a bit so I can talk to Addison in private.”

  Two little heads popped up from behind the couch while three slightly older kids kept their eyes on the TV and their hands on their gaming controls.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked, addressing the group that ignored her. “Cause you know if I have to ask a second time-”

  The oldest child paused the game and glared at me, but his face softened when he looked in my puffy eyes.

  The kids, who seemed to multiply on their way out of the room, cleared the space a moment later.

  I took a seat on the couch.

  Mrs. Collins disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

  I heard the kettle begin to roil a moment later.

  She’d changed the place a lot from the last time I was there. The couch was new, and so were the carpets, though I recognized the wallpaper and let my eyes travel to the spots where I knew it was peeling back from the wall- not of its own accord but because of little brats like me who found comfort in the destruction of pretty things.

  Did all kids do that kind of thing or just the kind of kids I grew up with?

  “Now,” she said, coming in with a cup and saucer in each hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so upset?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call first,” I said, taking the cup she extended towards me and scooting over on the couch so she could rest her ample behind beside me.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I never would’ve heard the phone anyway. So what’s going on?”

  I sighed and looked into my black tea. “I didn’t get the promotion I was up for.” I looked up when she didn’t say anything. Her eyes were soft, but suddenly I felt so shallow and stupid, like the words had completely failed to explain the pain I was feeling.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, tilting her head. “I know how hard you’ve been working for that.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have come. How selfish was I? This woman cared for kids with real problems all day. And here I was, whining about still having a great job that just wasn’t quite as great as I wanted it to be. “It sounds stupid when I say it like that.”

  “No it doesn’t,” she said. “I know what a hard worker you are. You have every ri
ght to be disappointed.”

  So she did understand. “And my boss didn’t even have the decency to tell me herself. So the guy I lost the job to just came in my office all smug and made a joke out of it when I’ve been at the company twice as long as he has.”

  She nodded.

  “I just feel so disrespected.”

  “I know, dear.” She set her cup and saucer on the table and laid her hands in her lap. “But everything happens for a reason.”

  “Well, that’s part of the problem,” I said. “I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  She shook her head and then fixed her soft eyes on mine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is,” I said. “I’ve been distracted.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I met someone.”

  “Oh?”

  “And things were-are- going really well, but I can’t help but feel like if I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have taken my eye off the ball-”

  “Addison,” she said, putting her hand on my knee. “I know it’s natural to look for something to blame, but I don’t believe for one second this relationship is why you didn’t get the promotion.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No,” she said. “I know why you didn’t get the promotion.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not meant to be,” she said. “Either it’s not the right job for you or there’s something better around the corner or it’s not the right time for you to get the promotion.”

  I shook my head. “But it is the right time,” I said. “And the right job. I’ve been working so hard for it and-”

  “But that’s the reward, don’t you see?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “The hard work is the reward, not the promotion. The hard work still stands to you, and it can never be taken from you.”

  “I know but-”

  “The job is just a label. It’s not who you are.”

  I let my head fall back, looked at the ceiling, and smiled. There was a pencil sticking out of it next to a footprint.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t see that.”

  “How did they manage to get the shoe print on the ceiling?”

  “Lord knows,” she said, shaking her head. “I expect either a ladder or the broom handle was involved.”

  “Wow.”