Grumpy Romance: Chapter 20

My whole brain is on fire. No amount of headache reliever pills or booze can fix it.

I’m straddling a tightrope and, right beneath me, is an ocean of shark-infested waters. It feels like I’m going to topple to my death at any moment.

I stare at the email that just crawled into my inbox and tighten my fists.

To: Holland Alistair

cc. Human Resources Director

From: Kenya Jones

Subject: Official Resignation

————-

To whom it may concern,

Due to an unexpected opportunity, I regret to inform you that I will be resigning from my position as Belle’s Beauty Sales manager. I would like to use my vacation days—all of them—as per the company policy regarding emergency leave.

Thank you for the lessons the company has provided me. I’ve learned so much in these few months and will never forget what I endured.

Respectfully,

Kenya Jones

It feels like a slap to the damn face.

She didn’t even bother to write my name.

I’m ‘to whom it may concern’ now?

Gritting my teeth, I shoot out of my chair and stumble to the window. I pound my fists against the glass. It does nothing to ease the chaos in my chest.

She’s really leaving the company.

Damn.

After our disastrous conversation in the diner, I went home and fumed. Throwing Claire in my face was low and she knew it. I should have been furious, but the anger didn’t even last long.

I can’t get through a day without thinking of her. Taking care of her. Being around her.

The fact that I walk past her empty office every day is freaking unacceptable.

Belle’s Beauty is in an uproar. A scandal like this won’t die down soon. Especially now that Kenya hasn’t shown up to work in days.

It’s almost ridiculous to hear what they’ve come up with. The explanations swing from ‘she’s pregnant’ to ‘Alistair kidnapped her and stashed her body in the trunk’.

Gossip is for empty-headed people with nothing better to do. I don’t give a damn what the employees are saying about me. They’ve been whispering about my prickly personality since before I started Fine Industries.

What I care about is Kenya. That woman punched a hole through my chest, and even if I miss her like crazy, I’m not going to chase her. I’m not going to force her to be with me.

She doesn’t want to be controlled? Fine?

Then I won’t crawl on my hands and knees like a freaking punk and beg her.

She can go.

Whatever.

Ezekiel knocks on the door. “Alistair?”

“Did you see the email?”

He swallows nervously. “What would you like me to do? The HR director is asking. This isn’t how we normally process resignations.”

My eyes lift to his. “Give her the vacation days.”

His face goes ashen. He barrels close to my desk, moving faster than I’ve ever seen him. “Alistair.”

Stubbornness winds across my chest, burrowing deep into the pain that hid away when Claire left me behind. It’s a different kind of anguish. Different because Kenya’s still alive but she’s choosing not to be with me. She’s choosing to leave.

It’s like getting clawed in the face over and over again.

“Let her go.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

My eyes whip up.

I’m getting yelled at by my cool and composed executive assistant.

Everyone has officially gone insane.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I snarl.

“I’m talking to the man who needs a good old-fashion pop in the face to knock some sense into him. And since Miss Jones isn’t around to do the honors, I might as well give it a go in her place.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “You’ve really decided this is your last day, haven’t you?”

“You can try and threaten me, Alistair, but I see right through you. You growl to keep people at bay just so they don’t brush close and get a glimpse of what a coward you really are.”

I slam my hand on the table. “She asked to leave!”

“And you didn’t fight for her to stay.”

“I told her to—”

“You don’t fight by ordering.” He glares at me. “You don’t fight by assuming you can control someone else. If love was about control, then everyone would be miserable. The only way to prove it’s true love is if there’s choice.”

I growl at him. “Miss Jones had a choice. She didn’t choose me.” I lift a hand. “Let her go. I don’t need her anyway.”

“Bull.” Ezekiel shakes his head. “She is an asset to this company. She worked harder than ten men. She was always here early and the last of us to leave. She challenged you in the right moments and listened to every instruction you gave in others. Now she’s jumping ship because of a little rumor that we’re working hard to clear up? I don’t buy it.”

“She wants to go.”

Ezekiel blinks. “Didn’t you hear me? Did you give her a reason to stay?”

I swallow hard.

Fine. I’m the massive bastard who treated her like an employee even when we were dating. I’m the one who took our problems on my shoulders and drove her away, made her run right into Walsh’s arms. It’s on me.

But acknowledging that won’t change anything. I know Kenya. Once she’s made up her mind, it’s over.

“Have you talked to her?”

“No.” I grab my chair and fold myself into it. “And I won’t either.”

“Alistair.”

“If you’re done with your rant, Ezekiel, you can leave.”

He doesn’t move.

I glance away. Anything I say to Kenya at this point will make this raging dumpster fire worse. Kenya doesn’t want to hear from me. And I wouldn’t know what to say to change her mind.

You don’t own me.

No. If I did, I’d never let anything harm her. I’d never let a single harsh word enter her world. I’d roll her in bubble wrap and keep her far away from the dangers in life.

But I can’t do that.

Not with her.

Not with Belle.

And I sure as hell didn’t with Claire.

The night I lost my wife was the most helpless moment of my life. I was the one who told her to get in the car. I insisted we head out on the road, and it resulted in my wife dying on impact.

I watched the blood drip down her face.

I cried her name and shook her.

She didn’t so much as blink.

When control is ripped from your fingers like that, you either give in to it and admit that you’re nothing compared to the storm or you fight back. And that’s what I did. I worked myself into the ground so that control would always be in my grip. So I’d never feel that helpless again.

“Is the opportunity she’s referring to the one at Baby Box?” Ezekiel grinds out.

I scrape my hands over my face, suddenly weary. “I don’t know. Probably.”

“Is she really leaving the country?”

I keep my mouth shut.

Ezekiel releases a breath. His eyes bore into me like twin skewers. “She won’t go if you ask her. For some crazy reason that I’ll never figure out, she loves you, Alistair. She’s not the type of woman who’ll run around shooting out flowery words, but she does. She stayed right by your side, even when you were pushing her to the limits. At first, she had something to prove to herself. To you. And then it was about being close to you.”

Kenya loves me? Then why is she running in the opposite direction? Why is she forcing me to confront the charred pieces of myself? Weaknesses I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

“Fine. Stay there. Hold on to control if that’ll keep you warm at night. I’ll let HR know that Miss Jones will receive all her vacation days.”

“Ezekiel.”

He glances over his shoulder, his eyes calling me ‘idiot’ in about three different languages.

I glance away. “Give her a generous severance package. She put up with a lot at this company.”

“People will misunderstand. It’ll come off like hush money.”

“I don’t care what people think. She worked like mad for Belle’s Beauty. And she put up with me…” I swallow. “She deserves to be compensated. This has nothing to do with our relationship. I’d do the same with anyone else.” I pause. “I’ll need a new list of management companies as soon as possible.”

“You’re really doing this?”

“What the hell do you expect me to do, Ezekiel? Cry? Listen to sad music? Wear sweats and lie in bed eating ice cream? I have a company to run.”

His whole face caves in, like he’s sucking on a tart lemon slice. “You can find someone to replace Miss Jones. It’ll be tough to match her work ethic and brilliance, but it can happen. You have enough money in the bank to search the world for it. But the chances of you finding someone willing to call you out on your crap and love you through it, that’s once in a lifetime.” He gestures to the door. “I won’t overstep my bounds again, but I thought you should know, as the man who works the closest with you, that I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Don’t go too far, Ezekiel. Or I’ll be processing your resignation along with Miss Jones’s.”

His eyes sharpen.

That one hit him in the center of his chest.

Ezekiel turns swiftly and slams the door behind him, leaving me filled with regret and a startling realization. Now that she’s officially gone, I miss Kenya even more than before.

Belle chases a butterfly around an oak tree, her hair streaming behind her and her eyes lighting up with glee. I watch her and the ache in my chest gets a little better. Not by much. But it’s tolerable.

Darrel hands me a bottle of water. “You haven’t asked for the sleeping pills in a long time. Has it gotten bad? Are there nightmares again?”

No. There haven’t been nightmares. Just beautiful dreams. In my dreams, Kenya is still with me, smiling so warmly that it lights me up inside. She’s there, brown skin soft and supple. Fingers dancing over my arms. Lips pressing to mine in a sweet kiss.

When I wake up, that’s the nightmare. Life is a giant, yawning chasm of emptiness. Ever since Kenya stormed out of that diner and sent in her resignation letter, I feel like the world is happening around me, but it’s completely removed.

Darrel gives me a worried glance. “You don’t look so good, Alistair.”

“I’m fine. I’m just busy. We haven’t found a management company yet and all the assistants we hired have been a complete waste of time.”

They’re nothing like Kenya.

Or maybe it’s that they aren’t Kenya.

Sure, they can sort spreadsheets, get me coffee and write reports, but they don’t mouth off when I’m particularly brutal with my tasks. They don’t send passive aggressive emails that are one giant middle finger wrapped in a bow. They don’t find ingenious ways to work smarter instead of harder.

Darrel purses his lips. “You’ve been drinking.”

Only a few and just to take the edge off. But I know it’s tampering with my work, which is why I’m asking for the pills. I don’t want to turn into a drunk. Belle deserves better than that.

Darrel takes his eyes off me and studies a bird fluttering around a tree branch. “Have you heard anything about her and Baby Box?”

“Ezekiel attends those meetings for me. The PR team is completely in charge of the project.”

“You’re running.”

“I’m choosing to guard my peace. She’s the one who walked away.”

“And you’re the one who didn’t chase her down.” He rests his elbow on the back of the bench. “Why aren’t you getting your woman back?”

Sunlight slashes across my eyes. I think of the dream I had this morning. Kenya was draped in sunshine. Nothing but sunshine. We were wrapped together, our limbs tangled so tightly it would take a crowbar to pry us off.

Her eyelashes fluttered against my chest and the heat of her hand seared all the way to my heart. A brand. A tattoo. A lock that could only be undone by her fingerprints.

“I was already thinking of what the rest of our lives would look like.” My eyes narrow. “She made me into that kind of idiot.”

Darrel watches me quietly.

“I’ve never met anyone like her. I never trusted anyone as quickly as I trusted her. She’s intelligent, beautiful, capable—”

“You’re not helping your case here. Why don’t you know where she is? Why aren’t you burning her phone up? Why aren’t you making a move?”

I clamp my mouth shut.

“Because that would require taking a risk,” Darrel says, as if he’s got a brain scanner out and he’s picking my thoughts up with a shovel. “Because that would mean throwing those walls down and begging someone to stay for the first time in your life. It would mean giving up control and showing that you have to depend on someone. Depend on them so much that you can’t breathe.”

Belle giggles and waves a flower around. “Look at this, daddy!”

I nod and wave back. Then I turn to Darrel. “It was a whirlwind relationship.”

“Bull. You introduced her to Belle.”

“She found Belle—”

“Don’t lie to me, Alistair. It makes you look pathetic.”

I grit my teeth.

Darrel folds his hands together. “My sister was the kind of person who saw the good in everybody. She liked bustling around family. She despised drama. She didn’t challenge you. She wasn’t the type who liked conflict. It’s why we had to get a nanny. Mom and dad were gone all the time. Claire was always frail, sad and lonely. She needed to rely on someone. She needed someone to tell her it would be okay. That they’d take care of it all and she wouldn’t have to think. And she loved that about you. That you would take charge. Take control. It made her the happiest when you asked her to jump because she could prove her love by jumping as high as possible.”

I bowl over, my shoulder slumping and my hands flat on my knees.

“Kenya is different. You ask her to jump and she’ll tell you to jump first. She doesn’t need you to take charge because she takes pride in the scars she’s earned from surviving all life has thrown at her. I spent only a couple minutes in her company, but I observed a lot. She’s confident in the silence. In her own skin. She didn’t feel the need to make dull conversation. She didn’t shy away from your past or any of the deep topics we discussed. She was comfortable, cool, didn’t give a damn of my opinion of her.”

“That’s not true. She hated that people were talking about us. She cares about their opinions.”

“Was that it?” He arches an eyebrow.

I clear my throat.

“You think she was that shallow, Alistair?”

“No.” I bite out. “It was more than that. She hated that her reputation was going down the drain.”

“Why?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you quizzing me?”

“I’m getting you to wake up and smell the coffee. Now, why did it bother her that her reputation was being tanked?”

“Because she’s worked hard to make her own way. She’s had the things she liked stripped away from her before.” I think of her confession that she had to drop out of after-school clubs for her sister. “And she doesn’t want to lose anything of hers again. She wants to fight to protect herself even if I promise I’ll fight for her.”

“What do you think she needed from you, Alistair?”

I frown.

He stares, unblinking, at me.

It feels like my insides are being scrambled, and Darrel’s not letting up until he has everything in my heart stretched out and clarified.

“Partnership,” he says sternly. “She’s not Claire. She doesn’t want you to smother her. She wants you to propel her up so she can fly. So you fly together.”

She’s not Claire. He’s echoing the words Kenya hurled at me. The ones that tore my heart out of my chest and sent it careening into space.

“Daddy!” Belle dances over to me. She’s wearing a frilly dress with tiny petals on the hem. She has a bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. Her lips curve up in a brilliant smile.

“That’s beautiful, Belle,” Darrel says.

“Is that for me?” I ask.

“No.” She giggles. “It’s for Miss Kenya.”

My eyes widen.

Darrel gives me a knowing look. “Is it, Belle? Do you want to see Miss Kenya again?”

“Yes. But daddy says she’s busy. So I want to send this to her. And invite her for tea.”

“I wonder who should send that invitation?” Darrel croons, arching an eyebrow in my direction.

Belle looks expectantly up at me, and I realize there’s a similar yearning in my heart. Kenya already left her mark on our lives. There’s no way I can go back to the way things were before. No way I can keep living in this misery.

Taking the flowers gently from Belle, I lift her into my arms and press a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t worry, Belle. Daddy will make sure Miss Kenya gets these flowers.”

“And tea?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll try my best so we can see her again.”

Standing outside Kenya’s apartment with nothing but my heart in my hands is a position I’m still not used to.

I have never begged a woman for anything. Ever.

But then Kenya is new to me in so many ways. She’s sharp and soft all at the same time. She can be loud or quieter than a whisper. Her mouth can cut me, or it can heal everything that’s broken inside.

I’m in love with her.

And I can’t go another day without letting her know.

I knock on the door and wait a beat more, wondering if no one is home.

But that’s not right.

I see lights under the door. And I see shadows.

I’m staying here until she acknowledges me. It’s the only thing I can do since she’s not answering the phone, replying to my emails or reading my private messages.

Knocking on this door and being ignored is humiliating, but I won’t dwell on how foolish I look. I’m throwing my pride aside in a desperate effort to save my heart.

“Kenya.” I knock again.

Again.

Again.

She can hide if she wants. I’ve got all day. It’s not like I’ve been getting any work done. I’m coming apart at the seams and the frayed edges are starting to show. Even Ezekiel ditched his scowls and subtle cold shoulder to berate me about not getting enough sleep.

Kenya Jones ruined me.

And she needs to take responsibility before she goes traipsing off to another country to meet some guy who probably isn’t as broken as me.

I knock on the door again. “Hello?”

The door swings open and a tall, slender woman with dark skin and striking eyes scowls at me.

I clear my throat. “Hi, Sunny.”

“Why are you here again?”

“Because you ignored me the other times.” I glance past her. “Is Kenya here.”

“No.” She slams her hand against the doorway, barring my entrance.

I lean back. “I brought coffee.”

Her eyes flit to the paper cups.

“Ezekiel’s secret coffee. I know she likes his brew more than any of the coffee shops’.”

Her eyes narrow. “What exactly do you want, Mr. Alistair?”

“I want to see her.” My voice is level. “Is she home this time?”

“No, she’s not home.” Sunny folds her arms over her chest. I see that both friends have attitude for days. “And even if she was, she wouldn’t drink your coffee. She’s finally opened her eyes and realized how bad it is for her. It’s overbearing and detrimental to her health.”

From the stink eye she’s giving me, I’m starting to wonder if she’s referring to me instead of the java.

“I find it hard to believe that Kenya would give up coffee.”

“What you believe is none of my concern. Are we done here?”

“Are you sure Kenya isn’t home?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

This woman looks like a slight breeze would blow her over. I could push her aside and storm in like a menace, but my instincts warn me to reel that side of myself in.

She slides in front of me when I try to peer into the room. “Move back before I break your nose with the door.”

“Kenya told me you were her best friend. If she’s not home now, you must know where she is.”

“You’re correct. I am Kenya’s best friend. And because I’m her best friend, I would never sell her out to the outrageous boss who made her life a living hell.” She bats her eyes at me. “Does that answer your question?” She starts to close the door.

I slide my foot into the crack. “Wait.”

“You’re just begging for a beatdown, aren’t you?” She huffs.

I thought Kenya was as blunt and stubborn as they came, but her friend is giving her a run for her money.

“I really need to speak with Kenya.”

“And I need a contract with HGTV, but neither of those things are happening. So move along.”

“Look,” I growl because my reserve of calm is wearing thin, “tell her that I’m sorry, and that I just want to talk to her.” My mouth trembles over the word, but I push it out. “Please.”

I’m pleading.

Kenya Jones has me pleading just to hear her voice.

Sunny frowns. “You’re too late. She’s not here.”

My heart wallops my ribs. “What?”

“She’s already left for her assignment with that other company.” Her hands whipping through the air, she waves me back. “Last I checked, she was swimming with nurse sharks and flirting with the locals. She’s enjoying her freedom. I doubt she remembers your name.”

Horror fills my chest. I lose all patience and ground out, “You’re lying.”

“Contrary to what you think Mr. Big and Bad Billionaire, the world doesn’t revolve around you and neither does Kenya. She’s living her best life without your involvement and she’d like to continue, so see yourself out and don’t come back.” Sunny prods at my foot with her flip-flops.

“Wait.” I hold out Belle’s flowers to her.

She gives it the stink eye. “What is this? Some kind of voodoo doll?”

“No. It’s from my daughter.”

Surprise flickers in her eyes before she hides it.

“I’m hoping you can pass it on to Kenya.”

For a second, it looks like Sunny will shove the flowers into my mouth, hog-style, but she swipes them from me. “Fine. Goodbye.”

The door slams shut in my face.

I plod aimlessly down the hallway. What if Kenya meets someone else overseas? A rush of jealousy singes my veins as I imagine some other guy adoring those gorgeous curves and taming that sharp mouth.

There’s no way she’ll find someone else that quickly. No way…

But what if she does?

Determination fuels my fire. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I hurry to the car. Bernard gives me a hopeful look, but it drops the moment he sees my face.

“She didn’t see you this time either, sir?”

“Take me to the Baby Box headquarters.”

“Baby Box? Why all of a sudden?”

I crack my fists. “Kenya’s left the country and I’m going to get her whereabouts from Walsh one way or the other.”