Glancing back, I give him a bright smile. “Yup. Ain’t it grand?”
He flips me off, but he and I both know that donation will get made. He can’t afford to go public against me about this, because his wife will find out he’s a cheater and his career will be over. It’s a risk I know for certain he’ll never take, so blackmail is kind of moot.
I step out into the hallway. Tacker leans against the wall, studying me. He finally breaks out into a smile. “Went well, did it?”
“Well, I got to punch him,” I reply with a shrug.
We move down the hallway, intent on swinging by Frank’s office to thank him for his help. I sort of lied about the blackballing part. I have no clue if Frank would even do that for me, but I’m not about to involve him more than I already have. I just needed a legit place to meet Tripp to offer my deal. The threat of what I could do to the twerp is more than enough.
CHAPTER 26
Clarke
“It’s called depression,” Veronica says as I slump on the stool behind the cash register. As a proprietor of a store that depends on customers to come in and buy things so I can make money, I continuously glare at the door and wish for people to stay away.
“I’m not depressed,” I mutter.
“On the verge of tears, feels like you’re slogging through mud, flat monotone effect. You’re depressed.”
I swing my gaze from the door to my best friend, who leans on the back counter as she watches me. After Aaron had left the other night and I’d finished crying my eyes out, I’d called Veronica.
She came over, then listened to me recount everything without interruption but for a few well placed “uh-huhs,” and “that makes sense,” she lent me her rapt attention as only a best friend can do. She didn’t offer advice or tell me I was wrong. Of course, she didn’t say Aaron was wrong, either. She merely validated my feelings. It’s what I needed then.
Now, four days later, I need someone to just put me out of my misery.
“Let’s go through it again,” Veronica suggests.
I swivel on the stool, scowling. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about it. I just want Aaron Wylde and all my memories of him to go away.”
“Yeah,” she replies dryly. “How’s that working for you so far?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, swiveling to glare at the door again.
To my shock, it opens and a woman walks through. Tall and gorgeous with dark hair and equally dark eyes set into a modelesque face.
Nora.
I sit up straight with a smile, a concerted move to display false confidence and a general joy for life.
Her keen eyes cut through me as she strolls my way, and I can’t help but slump back down. Nora raises an eyebrow at Veronica. “Is she depressed?”
“Yup,” she replies.
I whip around to glare at my best friend. “Traitor.”
Then I remember my manners, so I make the introductions. “Nora… the woman behind me who thinks I’m depressed even though I’m actually just stoically brooding is my former best friend, Veronica.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Nora says as she moves around the counter to shake Veronica’s hand. “I’m Tacker’s wife.”
“Aaron’s best friend,” Veronica exclaims, getting the connection. I’ve obviously filled her in on everyone she hasn’t met yet, but it’s a lot of people to keep track of.
Nora puts her purse on the counter, slowly scanning the interior of the store. She walks down the adjacent wall, quietly perusing some of the items for sale. Picking up a ceramic cardinal bird, she flips it over to look at the sticker before setting it down.
Finally, she focuses on me. “You have a lovely place here. Aaron told Tacker and me all about it, and I’ve been wanting to come see it for myself.”
I don’t buy that for a moment. Well, I mean yes… I do believe Aaron probably talks about me to his best friend and his wife. I can also believe Nora wanted to come by at some point.
But I don’t believe she’s just dropping in out of the blue without an ulterior motive.
“Can I help you pick something out?” I offer.
“Actually, no,” she replies as she approaches me, coming to stand on the opposite side of the counter. She clasps her hands, placing them on top of the glass case. “I actually came to find out why you so callously cut Aaron out of your life.”
My chin jerks inward, and I straighten on my stool.
Veronica murmurs from behind me, “Oh man… this is going to be good.”
I don’t bother whipping another glare her way. She’s already relinquished her title as my best friend.
Nora just appraises me, her spine straight and her stare imperious. A flush of anger that she’d dare to judge my feelings on this matter wells within me, but, just as quickly, I deflate like an old party balloon.
“I’m sorry,” I practically moan out the apology, slumping farther down on my stool. I press my forearms to the glass case, dip my forehead to rest there, and rock back and forth. “I don’t know what the hell I did or what I’m doing. I messed everything up.”
Veronica approaches, soothingly patting my shoulder. “There, there.”
I can almost envision her giving a shrug to Nora as if to say, “You brought this out of her. Now what do we do?”
“So fix it,” Nora suggests, but her tone is kind and understanding this time.
I lift my head, eyes wide. “But how? I cut him out of my life. I sent him on his way. I wasn’t strong enough to stick up for what we had, and he has to think I’m the most pathetic of losers.”
Nora rolls her eyes. “Please… you’re not giving Aaron enough credit. The man is crazy about you. Granted, you hurt him, but I’m sure he’ll forgive you for it. You just have to reach out.”
“Really?” I ask hopefully. Because the reason I am indeed depressed is I thought I’d ruined everything the other night. When I’d told him I couldn’t do it, he took me at face value and left without even fighting for me. In my mind, that meant he had moved on.
Nora presses her fingertips to the edge of the case, leaning toward me. “I’m in counselor mode now, okay?”
I nod, eagerly giving her my attention.
“You have insecurities and trust issues. We all do. No sense in denying it or being ashamed of it. It’s what makes us human.”
I nod again, waiting for that magic kernel of therapeutic advice.
And wait…
Tipping my head slightly, I say, “And…”
“And what?” she scoffs. “Get over it.”
“Get over it?” I repeat tentatively, as if testing the weight of this miracle suggestion on my tongue.
“Get over it,” she affirms. “You have an amazing man who has accepted you despite your hang-ups and history. He has worked patiently and diligently to make you see him for who he is. He’s taken a chance on you, trying something that is foreign to him, while going in full force despite how scared I’m sure he was. And if you can’t recognize and understand what an amazing gift that’s been handed to you, then you don’t deserve him. Back away and let another woman have her chance.”