Stuffing my foot back in my shoe, I hardly feel the pain at all, too focused on sorting this mess out. I leave Lainey behind, giving Gina her instructions as I make my way to Sal’s office.
When I enter, I’m nearly knocked back by the smell of . . . Scotch? He’s at his desk with a tumbler in his hand that he doesn’t get time to hide. Christ, are things so bad he’s on the hard stuff at work? He freezes as he watches me close the door, caught red-handed.
“Shit,” he mutters, shrugging and knocking back his drink.
“At work, Sal?” I question, making my way to his desk. I don’t mean to sound accusing, but alcohol during work has always been a no-go for Christianson Walker, except, maybe, for the odd occasion we’ve got the bubbly out to celebrate a big deal that we’ve secured. Even then it’s only a token toast and a sip before we get back to grafting.
“Don’t judge.” He slams his glass down and looks at me challengingly. I get the feeling he’s looking for a fight, searching for someone to vent his frustration on. Looks like that lucky someone might be me.
I raise my hands in surrender. “Not judging, mate.” I sit down as he tops up his glass, resisting asking him to pour me one, too. After what just went down, I can’t deny I could do with a drink.
“What was that, anyway?” He points to the door with his glass. “Don’t you think I can handle my own staff?”
Keep calm, I tell myself. “Your staff is my staff, too,” I point out, making him huff childishly and swig some more Scotch. “But besides that, I didn’t think your mood was helpful for such a delicate situation. Lainey was clearly upset. It needed to be handled with care.”
“Oh.” Sal laughs sarcastically, holding his round belly. “I forgot you’re Mr. Sensitive, aren’t you?”
I bristle, but keep it contained, breathing through the anger beginning to simmer in my gut. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Sal barks. “Where is she anyway?” he asks. “Crying over the photocopier?”
I flinch on Lainey’s behalf. “I sent her home. She was upset.”
Sal scoffs and gets up, stomping to the window and staring out. “What tramp fucks married men?”
My teeth grind together, and before I can think better of it, I’m talking, but I’m saying shit I really shouldn’t be saying. “She isn’t a tramp, Sal. Take that back.”
He snorts, turning to face me. He’s sweating, his bald head shining. “Not even you fuck married women”—he laughs—“and you’re the biggest slut out there.”
What the actual fuck, Walker? But . . . Let it slide, Ty. Just let it slide right on over your head. Yet as much as I try to moderate the building fury, it’s rising quickly. I stand up and wedge my clenched fists into the wooden surface of his desk, leaning over threateningly. “Rein it in, Sal,” I warn, starting to sweat myself. Fuck it. I’m telling him. I don’t care how foul his mood is, he can swing at me for all I care, and he looks like he probably will. I’ll take the punch. I’ll take anything at this point. “Sit down,” I order firmly. I mean business, and he’s going to need to be on his arse when I tell him. “There’s something . . .” My confession dries up when I register his bottom lip trembling. Like he might cry at any moment. “Sal?”
“I’ve fucked up, man.” He drops to his chair, burying his face in his palms. “I’ve fucked up so badly.”
I slowly rise to full height, completely taken aback. “What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head, starting slowly but working up into a shake that could probably cause brain damage. “I’m such a fucking cunt.” He clenches at his head, looking for some hair to pull at. “You need to help me, Tyler.” He looks at me desperately. “Please help me fix it.”
“Fix what?” I ask, my concern increasing with every word my partner speaks. “What’s happened?”
“I cheated on Moya,” he chokes, his head going back into his hands, ashamed.
My mouth falls open in utter astonishment. I couldn’t have heard him right. Yeah, I’ve joked about it, but never, not once, did I think he’d betray Moya, no matter how desperate things have gotten. “What?”
“I cheated, Ty.” He looks up at me. “I’ve royally fucked up.”
“Does Moya know?”
“God, no.” His eyes brim with tears.
“Well, she will soon if you’re behaving like this at home, Sal. Women know shit like that. Pick up on weird behavior and come up with reasons.”
“I know,” he whines, rubbing at his stomach. “The guilt, Ty. I can’t take it. It’s eating me up inside.”
I take a seat, needing to take the weight off my foot. “You dumb fuck,” I fire. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. It just happened. One minute we were talking about work, the next we were kissing.”
“You dumb, dumb . . .” Wait. Work? I shoot forward in my chair. “You kissed a client?” I shouldn’t sound so outraged. I’ve done a hell of a lot more than kiss a client. But I was single.
He eyes me across the desk. I’m not sure if it’s with caution or shame. “Not exactly.”
My eyebrows pinch. “Then wh—” I gasp, shooting up from my chair, seeing Violet’s blushed cheeks each time I’ve seen her with Sal. “An employee?” I need to pipe down. I’m in no position to pass judgment, what with Lainey’s and my situation. No, wait. Yes, I fucking am. I’m not fucking married. “What the fuck, Sal?”
“I know.” He slumps over his desk. “I know, I know, I know.”
“You hypocritical wanker.”
“I know,” he murmurs pitifully, starting to thump the desk.
I’m raging. How the hell dare he? After everything? I see Sal in my mind’s eye, laughing along with Violet in all the meetings, the playful banter, and his brush-offs every time I mentioned their flirting. The stupid, stupid twat. “I honestly can’t believe you.”
“I can’t believe myself, Ty. Honestly. I mean, I’m not trying to make excuses, I’m not, but Moya and I have been struggling to get along, and I was blindsided in that one fraction of time. Caught off guard. It could have been any woman, but Lainey was there, and—”
“What?” My world stops spinning, my heart slowing. I can’t move. “Lainey?” I push her name past my swelling tongue.
Sal sighs. “She just came at me, and before I knew it we were kissing.”
“Lainey?” It’s the only word I can form. Her name. The name of the woman I’ve fallen head over heels for. “Lainey?” Fuck, I need her name to magically morph into a different name and my world will stop crumbling around me. “Lainey?” My arse hits the chair on a thud.
Sal frowns across the desk at me. “Yes, Lainey. Who did you think it was?”
I stare at Sal. Just stare at him, searching for some sense in this craziness. “Lainey kissed you?” I jerk at the sound of my question, an unbearable shot of pain stabbing at my heart. “She kissed you?”