But as satisfying as the punch was, it didn’t get Roxy any of her lost income back.
They stepped out onto the sidewalk and let the door close behind them. She was grateful to note that the few onlookers who had gathered outside when the police first arrived had dispersed. The plaza was nearly empty with most of the businesses now closed for the day.
Callan was parked in a spot near the office. They paused a few feet from his car.
“Why don’t I follow you to your place?” he asked.
She supposed their planned evening of viewing listings was shot now. “No. I really just need to be alone right now.”
His jaw clenched and released. “I see.”
“What?”
“You’re pissed at me.”
“I’m pissed at a lot of things right now, Callan. That’s why I’m not going to make good company. Believe it or not, I’m trying to spare you from my temper.”
He pulled his sunglasses from the V in his shirt and put them on. “You deserve to be pissed,” he said. “I don’t deserve to be the one you’re pissed at.”
Knowing he was right just set her even more on edge. “Really? Well, finding my apartment full of groceries that you paid for was what kick-started my current mood.”
He lifted his arms and dropped them in a show of frustration. “What’s the big fucking deal, Roxy? Is it the money? Because you can always pay me back another time if you can’t handle that fact that I care about you and didn’t want you to starve. Or is it just that you wish I didn’t care about you more than you do me?”
The words landed like verbal slaps, stunning her into silence.
He shook his head and held up his hands as though he was done with her. “You know what? Fine. Take all the alone time you need. I’m getting used to having to do everything according to your wants and needs. Why should I have expected any different now?”
He strode to his car, opened the door, and dropped onto the front seat. The loud bang of his door slamming closed made her flinch. He didn’t spare her a glance as he backed up and pulled out of the lot.
And that was why she had wanted to put some space between them, she thought numbly. Because words spoken in anger always hurt like hell.
She did her best to swallow past the hot lump in her throat and started walking around the building to where she had parked. The lot had been so full when she arrived that she’d had to park in the building’s rear alley. That was why she had gone in the back door of the brokerage and managed to overhear what Darcy was saying to Callan.
Her mind foolishly wanted to cling to denial over her mentor’s betrayal. She was usually so good at reading people. Darcy had only ever conveyed sincerity and a desire to help.
Maybe she hadn’t thought what she was doing was wrong, Roxy speculated as she got into her car. As Darcy pointed out right before Roxy punched her, if Roxy had been better at her job, those leads wouldn’t have signed with anyone else.
Was the person to blame for her situation actually herself?
That thought stung nearly as much as the words Callan had hurled at her.
She really thought she had done everything right. She had saved up to pay for the training, licensure, and other fees required to begin her new career. She thoroughly researched brokers before signing with Arnie. She put in the time, money, and personal investment to get herself off on the right foot for a promising career. She had even thought outside the box by putting together the proposal for The Siege, not that she’d had any success getting someone to return her calls.
Yet here she was.
A dark shadow crept into her heart, silencing her usually resilient spirit. It was an unusual feeling for her, but the blow from Darcy followed almost immediately by her awful parting with Callan felt like one setback too many.
She tried to come up with a mental pep talk on the drive to her apartment building. Instead, her thoughts just grew bleaker.
Callan was right, she acknowledged, this time without any heat. He hadn’t deserved her anger. He had acted out of kindness and—yes—caring when he bought the groceries for her. It wasn’t his fault her pride couldn’t handle the gesture. She should have just accepted the groceries as the generous gift they were intended and moved on.
The problem was that accepting the groceries felt like accepting much more. And while she had been open to exploring that “more” yesterday in the midst of her exhaustion, she had awoken with her usual reservations about it. Having a man look after her like Callan had made her feel as though she was incapable of looking after herself, hitting her pride right where it was most vulnerable.
And setting off her temper.
Was that something about herself she could ever change? she wondered as she parked her car and headed into her apartment. Could she learn to put aside her pride and accept what Callan wanted to give her?
Her thoughts kept her preoccupied enough that she didn’t immediately see the red postcard wedged between the door and doorframe to her apartment until she lifted her key to insert it into the lock. She tugged the card out with a frown, wondering if a solicitor had somehow gotten into the building.
The bold words “Eviction Notice” screamed at her from the card. She stared at them for a long, horrible moment, trying to remember what day it was. When it finally registered, her heart plummeted into her stomach.
Her gaze lifted to her front door and stayed there. It took a moment for realization to sink in.
She was homeless.
She had failed.
All of the work she had done. All of the sacrifices she had made. None of it made any difference.
“Are you okay, Roxy dear?”
She looked towards the sound of Mrs. Ladenbaum’s voice. Her neighbor’s image was blurred through her tears. She shook her head.
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Ladenbaum walked over to her and put an arm around her waist. The comforting scents of lavender and vanilla accompanied her. “Come on over and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
Roxy allowed herself to be led into her neighbor’s apartment where she was guided to one of the two chairs at Mrs. Ladenbaum’s small café table. When a box of tissues was set in front of her, she took several. Now that she had allowed the tears to come, there would be no stopping them for some time yet.
“Tell me what happened,” Mrs. Ladenbaum said in a gentle voice as she put a kettle on.
The words poured from Roxy in sync with her tears. She explained about her job, the loss of expected income due to Darcy’s deceit, and her failure to make the rent deadline. Then, since her neighbor had met him the day before, she told her about Callan. About their connection, his desire for a committed relationship, and her deep-rooted resistance to the idea.
“I know I overreacted this afternoon,” she finished between shuddering breaths. “I should have been more grateful for everything he did, and I feel horribly selfish. Everything just piled up at once and I didn’t handle it well.”
Mrs. Ladenbaum had placed her hand over Roxy’s during her verbal outpouring and she now gave it a light squeeze. “Perhaps you need to tell him that.”
She sniffled and nodded. “You’re right. I just don’t know what else to tell him.”
“Do you need to tell him anything else right now?” Mrs. Ladenbaum got up and turned off the whistling kettle. “Surely he’ll understand that you have other things on your mind if he was there with you during this altercation at your office.”