Page 73 of A Bossy Roommate
“That’s a marathon,” I tell her. “Auntie, I really think we should consider doing something less strenuous. I know you want to spend time with us and show Eden and Hattie the places you like, but I don’t think this is the best way to do it.”
“Carter, I am not spending the entire day cooped up inside this apartment. Eden is family, and so is Hattie, and I want tospoil the three of you while I can.” Her tone is firm. “This is not up for discussion.”
“We’ll take frequent breaks,” Eden interjects, trying to ease the tension. “We’ll rest, and make sure there’s plenty of down time. But my husband is right, you don’t have to take me to see everything, Auntie.”
When she drops the H-bomb just like that, an odd feeling shakes through my chest. My aunt catches on to it and smiles at her. “We won’t see everything, dearie. Just the places I know you’ll love.”
I can tell Eden is trying to find a compromise, but when Eleanor has her mind set on something, compromise isn’t an option.
I’m outnumbered two to one.
We spendthe better part of the morning touring the city, Hattie Hutton in tow. We take a ferry ride to Red Hook, Brooklyn, first, then Aunt Eleanor drags us into a department store, trying to buy things for us: a cat-shaped shower head that sprays water out of the ears and nose for Hattie, and two books for Eden:How to Train Your HusbandandHow to Survive Your Husband’s Midlife Crisis: A Guide to Coping with a Balding, Harley-Riding, Leather-Wearing Man. Last but not least, she finds—according to her—the perfect gift for me: a T-shirt that reads “I’m not bossy, I’m the boss” (which I actually like).
Hattie and Eden staunchly refuse to accept the gifts at first, but my aunt keeps insisting between three coughs, telling them she will feel much better if they would let her spoil them. Eden and Hattie give me pleading looks—Hattie because she’s trying to declutter since she’s moving and isn’t ready for “that level of wackiness in her life,” Eden because she doesn’t want to jinxthings by accepting gifts that offer the best advice on “how to navigate tricky marriage dynamics.”
I know better than to interject. A shrug and a cheerful smile are the only things I offer.
“I’m sure this one will be a real page-turner,” Eden says to Auntie when we stand by the register. They’re still joking away about my midlife crisis that’s apparently a breath away.
“You know what would really help me cope?” I ask. “A brand-new sports car.”
The three women turn to me, slack jawed.
Eden beams at me. “Did Carter Bancroft just make a joke?”
“Yep, told you I’m a fun time.”
The day would have actually turnedout nice if not for the phone call I receive around noon.
We’ve just sat down for lunch at The Good Fork, a cozy and charming neighborhood spot, when my phone goes off. It had happened a few times throughout the morning, and I’d ignored it. However, this time, I look at the screen and see Saul Huxley is the one calling.
Fuck.
Eden must see the expression on my face. “Why don’t you answer it, babe? We’ll tell the waitress we need a few minutes to decide.”
I nod and get up from the table, answering the phone. “What is it, Huxley?”
“Bancroft, I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday,” Huxley says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I just received an…interesting phone call you need to be made aware of.”
“What happened?”
“The Grangers have decided not to renew their contract with us.”
No.
My stomach drops, and my hand curls tighter around the phone. “Why the hell not?”
“A myriad of reasons. It looks like they’re talking to Ecclestone. I’ll forward the email to you. But suffice it to say, this doesn’t look good for Legacy. As you know, the Grangers are a very influential family. First thing tomorrow morning I’ll need you to gather your team and prepare for damage control. I’ll likely be out all day, but I’ll check back with you. No doubt others are going to hear about this, and it’s not going to be pretty. But I’ll leave you to the rest of your day. How’s your aunt?”
What a dick move.
Huxley is such a fucking bastard. I can’t even begin to list the reasons why I want to curse at him. He did all this on purpose, called me right in the middle of my day to tell me horrible news. He wants to ruin my time with my aunt, knowing I’ll be distracted, wracking my brain, and powerless to do anything until Monday.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” My voice is tinged with the barely contained rage I feel. Without waiting for a response, I hang up on him.
I go back to the table, where Aunt Eleanor, Hattie, and Eden regard me with triple looks of concern.
“Everything all right, Carter?” my aunt asks.