Palmer immediately tears up. She’s been crying nonstop lately. You would’ve thought she was the one who was dumped. Every time we’ve talked in the past week since she drove off to Albuquerque, she’s been an emotional wreck. She’s just probably in her actor mindset. She’s playing a single mother, living on the streets, who is trying her best to kick a heroin habit. If that’s not emotionally taxing and dramatic, I don’t know what it is. She’s embracing her role. Palmer is a truly phenomenal actress. If success in the industry was based on talent alone, she’d be famous. Unfortunately, the reality is that luck’s been a bitch to her. Her entire career is filled with near misses and almost opportunities.
“You’re a better friend than me,” she says in a hushed whisper. “A much better friend.”
“Palmer,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. “It’s just a car. It’s fine—but hey, I have to go. It’s Mason on the other line.” As much as I’d like to ignore that asshole’s call, we need to chat business today.
Palmer’s face twists. “Fuck Mason,” she says.
“Yep, well, someone is, that’s for sure. Okay, honey, bye. Talk soon.” I reluctantly press end call and answer on my screen. “Mason,” I say, my tone dropping to the icy depths.
“Hey, Avery. Can I start with—”
“No, you may not. I looked over the Legacy Resorts reports and I have a few ideas for a proposal, but I need to understand what kind of organic leads are coming to their site. Have they shared that with you yet?”
“Not quite.”
“Once I have that data, I’ll be able to proceed. Email me when you have it.”
He sighs into the phone.
Sigh all you want, jerk. This is strictly business.
“They want a live pitch.”
“I would assume so if they are willing to pay in the millions. Are you concerned about my pitch?” I’ve handled client meetings since the establishment of our business. I don’t care how much money is in a potential client’s suit pockets. I’m not intimidated. I’m confident in what I do.
“No, I’m not concerned but…”
“But what?”
“Their head of marketing emailed me—”
“Yeah, Mason, why are they emailing you instead of me? I handle client relations. Put me on the email thread.”
Mason sighs again, testing my patience.
“Whatever you need to say, spit it out,” I snap.
“The guy is a total misogynist, Avery. And he’s the one making the final decision on firms. You may be the talent, but he wants to talk business with me—”
“Over scotch and cigars?”
“Exactly.”
What a dick. A dick that’s willing to pay us millions if I can pull this off. With that kind of payout, I could afford to get out of my lease with Mason and get my own place. L.A. is getting more expensive by the minute. Then again, I wouldn’t even have to stay in L.A. My business is virtual, and my best friend, with any luck, won’t be residing in California much longer. I could start over wherever I want. I could probably afford a house if I moved somewhere cheaper.
“So we need to pitch together?”
“Their resort in Cancun is under renovation. It’ll be done at the end of summer. They want to invite us to a complimentary weekend and have us give the proposal to the CEO, CMO, and VP. Drew from Maynard Realty said that one point five million is lowballing for what they can afford.”
“Hm,” I mumble into the phone as I head to Dex’s fridge and pull out Diet Coke. The loud hiss of a soda bottle fills the silence. I take a large glug, ignoring the aggressive little bubbles that attack my throat. “How much does he think we should ask for?”
“Five million and then expect them to meet us in the middle. So we’d walk away with about three point five.”
It becomes apparent why Mason is so nervous.
“Are you asking me whether I can come up with a proposal that’s worth a little north of three million dollars?”
“I can help you, Aves. Whatever you need…” His pleading tone turns knots in my stomach. I’ve been so shocked and angry that I forget that four years of my life have melted away. Four years that were good…for me.
Mason used to moan a little when he kissed my forehead. He’d inhale slowly like the smell of my hair was intoxicating. A small breath in, and then his soft lips would touch right between my brows. It made me feel so cherished. It was perfect and peaceful until the gory end I never saw coming.
“Mason, you’ve underestimated and underappreciated me in all aspects of our relationship. At least when it comes to work, how about you trust me? I’ll do my job. You do yours. We’ll present the proposal together and when the summer is over, we need to talk about dissolving the business. I don’t think I can—”
“I didn’t cheat on you,” he interrupts, seizing his opportunity.
My heart begins to thump angrily. “I saw the text. It is what it is…don’t try and lie—”
“It was an app. Let me explain.”
I am not a saint. I am not perfect. When the man I loved for nearly half a decade wants to explain how he didn’t cheat on me, curiosity becomes king. I can’t help it. “Explain then.”
“There’s an app called Rumble. I was talking to a woman I’d never met. It’s just texting…no videos or anything like that.”
“So an app just for dirty texting?”
He blows out a harsh breath. “It was just a role-playing thing. I was pretending like she was a call girl I’d hired before and… I don’t even know how that message got sent to you. We were talking earlier and I must’ve accidentally…well, you get it. But I didn’t cheat on you, Avery. I was just trying to have a night off from all this shit.”
I choose to sit in the stiff dining chair instead of getting comfortable on the couch. It seems more fitting at the moment. “A night off from what? You dumped me.”
“It doesn’t mean this doesn’t suck for me too.” His voice jumps an octave. “I know I’m not allowed to say it, but this sucks for me too. I miss you. It breaks my heart that we’re not going to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“And whose fault is that?”
There’s silence for a moment, and he asks the question that’s been on my mind for days. “Were you happy…with our intimacy? Or were you settling?”
Of course I was settling. But there’s more to love and commitment than sex. We had everything else. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it? Why did you choose to break us like this?”
Another long pause, then he says, “I honestly don’t know. We just didn’t do that…we never talked about that stuff. We were always a certain type of way with each other, since the beginning.”
Mason and I were lights off, missionary, once a week at best. Toward the end, once a month. That was our legacy. I almost can’t blame him for wanting more. Tears begin to form. The pain I’ve been running from almost catches me. But what Mason doesn’t understand is the pain isn’t just from heartbreak, it’s from fear. My identity was so wrapped up in a man that the minute he didn’t want me anymore, I lost my identity.