the company I keep.
I stare out over my garden below. I’m already planning the games I can play with Rosie, sitting on the lawn. My quiet evenings are about to get much more interesting.
“Fine,” I growl, almost too softly to be heard.
“Fine?” Kit repeats, obviously shocked.
I rethink my words for a minute.
Maybe I’m making a mistake. Without an assistant, my job is about to get only harder. And looking after a child is a 24/7 kind of arrangement. But I need this. This could be my opportunity to prove to myself—and everyone else—that I’m more than some moody workaholic who cares only about himself. This is my chance to make things good again, to remind myself there’s more to me than work. I sip my champagne as the sun finally sets, and I finally relent.
“I’m serious. Bring on the babysitting,” I answer.
India
I’m doing this. I’m actually doing it. As I head for the elevator, I refuse to look behind me. I half expect William to try to follow me, but he doesn’t. Before I know it, I’m out of the building and on my way to freedom.
The thrill doesn’t last long. The good-girl part of me is in shock. Why did I have to make such a scene? Why did I have to quit in the most over-the-top way possible? But I already know the answer to that question.
Because he deserved it.
Still, I used all of my chances in one go. There’s no way in hell William will give me a reference now. Everything is riding on this writing job working out now. Suddenly freedom isn’t so appetizing. My breathing is labored as I head for the train to go home. I can’t panic. I have to remind myself that this is what I want. This is the start of my brand-new life.
So why am I so scared?
Arriving home to an empty apartment at midday feels wrong.
I feel sick, but now it has more to do with my anxiety than with my drinking last night. I open all of the windows and make myself coffee, feeling more than a little flustered. Knowing I have a full day to myself should be exciting. I still have to finalize the arrangements for my new job, but after that I could catch up on my favorite shows or get some serious writing done.
The trouble is that right now I don’t want to do either of those things. I want to run back to that office and beg William to give me back my job. I want to get on my knees and pray for everything to go back to normal because the idea of chaos is making me feel sick. But I won’t do that, no matter how tempting it is. I have some pride left, even in the face of fear and uncertainty. I know it won’t work anyway. The second that I turned my back on William, I became an enemy of Walker Industries.
William is a proud, hard man. He won’t ever forgive me for the things I said to him—even if they were true.
Now I’m on my own.
The day seems to pass in a blur.
I sit for long periods of time, doing nothing, with the TV on as a mere murmur in the background. I can’t focus on doing anything productive. I should be figuring out what my new job will entail or brushing up my résumé. I should be doing something to counteract the fact that I lost my job today.
But I don’t. I just sit and wallow in my own mistakes, waiting for Montana to come home and snap me out of the funk I’ve gotten myself into.
Montana finally arrives at half past five o’clock with a bunch of shopping bags in her hands. She spots me lounging on the sofa and the realization crosses her face.
“You did it, didn’t you? You quit Walker Industries?”
I nod, still a little out of sorts. Montana drops her bags to the floor and immediately comes over to put an arm around me.
“Damn, India. I didn’t think you would actually go through with it.”
That’s not a comforting statement. It makes me feel like I made a mistake. A huge mistake. Montana seems to realize her error and backtracks a little.
“I just mean it’s a gutsy move. But it was the right thing to do. You can breathe now. You don’t have to spend all your time somewhere you’re not valued and happy.”
“What if it’s not so bad? What if I have made a horrible mistake, just because I can’t take a little snappiness from my boss?” And the way he makes me nervous as hell...and breathless...
How do I explain to her that I saw his vulnerability and it’s tugged at my heart somehow?
“India, I know you. You’re tough as nails. I know you wouldn’t overreact to something like this. If you say he’s a nightmare, then I’m sure he is. Which means you’re better off jobless than stuck under some controlling bastard’s thumb.”
“You’re right... It’s just hard to think that way right now.”
“I know. Quitting your job is a scary thing. But you’ll be okay. You did it knowing you have a safe backup. You’ve done the right thing. Coffee?”
I smile. Montana thinks a drink is the answer to everything. “Thanks, but I have some.”
Montana nods, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to pour herself a cup. I lean my head on the arm of the chair, still a little shell-shocked by the events of the day.
Montana returns with her coffee, while I hold my mug close to my chest. Both of us are silent. I sigh. Each time I think back to what happened in the office, one thing sticks in my mind. I decide that perhaps Montana can help me make sense of it.
“You want to know something strange?” I ask her. She sits up straight, tucking her legs underneath her on the sofa.
“Always.”
I chew my lip. “Before I left, William said I was a good employee. I think... I think that’s the kindest thing he’s ever said to me the whole time I worked there.”
Montana sniffs, looking wholly unimpressed. “Well, it’s hardly a shining compliment, is it? He could’ve at least been a little more enthusiastic.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true. But you don’t know him, Mon. He’s a workaholic. For him to give a compliment is rare, but for him to give me a compliment about my work performance...well, that counts as high praise from him.”
“What are you saying?”
“I just think that perhaps I misjudged his actions. Maybe he’s always been cruel to be kind when it comes to me. Maybe he was hoping to encourage me by keeping me on my toes, pushing me to reach my potential.”
Montana tuts, lightly slapping my arm. “I don’t know why you would ever defend his behavior like that, India. Besides, even if that is true, isn’t that kind of manipulative?”
I struggle to find a way to get my argument back on track. “I’m
