Page 11 of Wrecked By You
“Oh, away with you.” She flicked her wrist, but I caught the faint blush of pink stealing over her cheeks.
I devoured the rest of the cookie while Ginny poured coffee into two mugs. “If the tips at this job work out as well as I hope they will, I’ll be able to start paying you proper rent.” My checkered work pattern meant I hadn’t been able to contribute as much as I’d have liked to, and while Ginny’s generosity was boundless, I’d feel better when I could pay my way.
Ginny busied herself with adding cream and sugar to her coffee while I waited for what I knew was coming. She lifted her cup to her lips, her eyes finally meeting mine after several sips.
“You and Chloe being here is payment enough.”
I sighed. “Ginny, I—”
She cut me off with one of her famous dismissive gestures. “I never had children or grandchildren, and while I can’t say I’ve dwelled on it all that much, as I get older, it’s begun to dawn on me just how much I missed out on.”
Ginny’s husband had gotten hit by a car while they were on their honeymoon and Ginny had never remarried. I’d asked her once why not—thirty-five years was a long time to mourn someone—and she’d gotten this misty look in her eyes and told me that a love like she and Edward had shared was the kind of love that only came along once in a lifetime.
In a way, I envied her, although not the grief she’d suffered. But to have loved like that must’ve been wonderful.
“I know you and Chloe aren’t my blood, but I’ve come to think of you like that. I believe fate brought us together that day at the diner.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand, and this look passed between us, one that told me if I ever wanted to talk, Ginny would listen. I wasn’t ready to do that, nowhere near, but maybe one day, I might pluck up the courage to trust my instincts and share at least a little bit of what had brought me here. But it would be a long way in the future. The last thing I wanted to do was drag anyone else into my mess, especially Ginny. The less she knew, the better it was for her.
“Edward left me very well provided for, and I live a frugal life. Please, let me do this for you and Chloe.”
“Oh, Ginny.” I placed my hand on top of hers. “There must be something I can do to repay you.”
“There is. When I’m too old to live alone and they cart me off to one of those old folks’ facilities, you can come visit me.” Her eyes twinkled, and she winked. “And make sure I’m not being fiddled with.”
I burst out laughing. “Ginny! You’re terrible.”
“It happens,” she defended. “I read the newspapers. There are some dreadful people out there preying on the old and vulnerable.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “It’s your job to make sure my nightgown stays right where it should.”
I laughed harder. Ginny was an absolute treasure. “Deal.”
“Good.” She pushed the plate of cookies toward me. “One more for luck on your first day at a new job.”
My stomach lurched, nerves swimming through my bloodstream. I couldn’t mess this up. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the brooding Mr. Kingcaid had little patience for mediocrity.
I picked up a cookie and took a bite. “For luck.”
Chapter5
Ella
No room for butterfingers in this job
The parking lotof Level Nine was fuller than when I’d arrived earlier today for my interview. I cut the engine, sweat dripping between my boobs and along the back of my neck. The air conditioner on the car had given out weeks ago, but I had no money to get it fixed, so I had to make do with an open window and windswept hair. I reached into the door pocket and fished out a pack of wet wipes and cleaned myself up, then readjusted the rearview mirror, pinning back the loose strands and tightening my ponytail.
Deep breath. You’ve got this.
My dad had once told me that if what you were doing wasn’t a little bit scary, then you weren’t pushing yourself hard enough. A pang swept through my chest. I missed my dad, and my mom, but I’d made my bed, and it was up to me to lie in it.
They’d begged me not to marry Mateo, even threatening to cut me out of their lives. At the time, they’d infuriated me, but now that I was a parent myself, I understood. They’d seen what I hadn’t—that Mateo wasn’t a good man—and had tried to stop me from making a huge mistake in the only way they’d known how. The fact that he was fifteen years older than me had also played a part, but with hindsight, I realized it was more than that. Their experience had given them an intuition that, at eighteen, I’d lacked.
I’d been so blinded with love—or infatuation, as I now recognized it as—that I’d ignored my parents and married him anyway. In the end, I was the one who’d cut them out of my life with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. A while after I’d married Mateo, my parents had moved to New York but a couple of years later I’d heard they’d divorced and my mom had emigrated to France after she married a guy she’d met on vacation.
I longed to contact them, to tell them they’d been right all along, and see if there was a way to build bridges, but at the same time, I feared their rejection. I deserved it, no doubt about that, and that fear kept me from taking the first step to reconciliation.
I pushed the painful thoughts of my parents to one side and exited the car. I slammed the door. It didn’t shut properly, so I opened it and tried again. This time it closed fully, and I was able to lock it. Every time I climbed into the thing, I prayed it would get me where I needed to go, especially now. Mr. Kingcaid was the kind of man who didn’t give second chances. I’d lucked out that he’d given me a first chance, and I could not mess this up.
I made my way over to the same door I’d entered through earlier and pulled on the handle. It opened. I peered inside. Sounds drifted down the narrow corridor—raised voices, but not in anger, bottles clanging, the hum of a vacuum cleaner, heels clipping on the floor. Swallowing my nerves, I followed the voices, passing by the office where I’d had my interview and emerging into an enormous space. A vast bar ran the entire length of one wall, and in the center was a polished wooden dance floor. On the opposite wall was an elevated area with decks where I assumed the DJ banged out tunes. Comfy seating lined the edges, and there was a roped-off area I guessed was for VIPs and a mezzanine level with an ornate balustrade.