“I’ll cut right to the chase, Sterling: We can’t do it.”
I blink, a cold knife of panic slicing through me. “I—” I break off. “You can’t do what, exactly?”
“Extend the credit line,” he says. “We’re stretched too thin as it is. We simply don’t have the reserves to continue to float a debt this large.”
“Uh—all right,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm and even. The last thing I need is for Briggs to smell blood in the water. “Well, let’s just take a minute to problem-solve before we go making any grand declarations.” I try to think rationally, doing my best to channel Aisling, but even I can hear the emotion creeping into my voice. “There must be a way for us to work something out.”
But Briggs is unmoved. “Sorry, Sterling,” he tells me flatly. “The loans are due as planned. You can’t be surprised, that place was a zombie even before you got on the scene. Dead company walking. All you could ever do was buy it time.”
I can’t accept this. “You’re not serious,” I insist, looking for the angle. Surely there’s something I can say… “I thought we had a gentleman’s agreement here. And when you factor in the sure success of Verity Lange’s new novel—”
“Oh, that reminds me!” Briggs says, voice brightening. “My wife loves her. Any way I could get you to send me an autographed copy?”
I hang up without bothering to say goodbye. My mind is racing, and a splitting headache is already beginning to gather at the base of my skull. Briggs’s words echo in my ears. The loans are due as planned. And we’ve got no money to pay them. Which means if I don’t liquidate the entire company—immediately—we’ll spiral into bankruptcy, and then there’ll truly be nothing left.
Celeste was wrong, I realize, as the full extent of the situation becomes clear. I’m not a pair of safe hands. Anything but. I’m going to have to sell the Post-its out of the supply closets.
I’m going to have to let everyone go.
I take a deep breath, trying not to panic. It’s nothing I haven’t had to tackle before, obviously. If there’s one thing I’ve got experience doing, it’s cleaning house.
But this is different.
I look out the window of my office, where Eliza is still chatting with Rachel the admin, her smile wide and carefree. She loves this company—and over the last few weeks I’ve started to love it, too. How am I ever going to tell her that it’s over?
I can’t.
I ignore the voice in my head telling me to be rational and business-minded about this—the one that sound suspiciously like Aisling’s—and tell my assistant to cancel all my meetings for the rest of the morning. There’s got to be another way to save Sterling.
And I’m going to find it.
But there isn’t.
I spend the next few days holed up in my office, avoiding Eliza as much as I can. I can’t tell her about my epic failure just yet, so I try to work the numbers every which way, call in every favor I can imagine, but there’s no avoiding it. Even if Verity’s book sells beyond our wildest imaginings—and that’s a big if—Sterling is done.
“Try not to beat yourself up about it, dude,” Jase says, sliding a bourbon across the bar in my direction. He insisted I come by the Clubhouse to drown my sorrows, and though I down the amber liquid in one miserable gulp, barely even tasting it, it doesn’t do anything to help.
Jase raises his eyebrows before pouring me another. “It’s not like you didn’t know the place was doomed from the start. You literally went in there with the express purpose of doing this exact thing.”
“I know,” I say, rubbing a hand over my tired face. I haven’t exactly been sleeping well.
Or sleeping at all.
“But somewhere along the line I got it into my head that maybe Sterling wasn’t too far gone to save.” I say. “I really thought we had a chance…”
Jase shrugs. “You gave it your best shot,” he reminds me, “and that’s admirable. But it was a Hail Mary from the start.”
“I suppose,” I admit grudgingly. It’s true, of course. Logically, this little experiment was never going to end any other way. But I still can’t help but I feel like I let everyone down—like I let Eliza down most of all. How am I ever going to tell her that this company she loves is finished? That she and all her friends and colleagues are out of a job? The thought of it makes me want to lie down in the middle of the subway tracks and let the rats have their way with me, once and for all.
“I just don’t want to let her down,” I say quietly, and Jase knows exactly who I mean.
“You said she’s smart, and successful. She’ll find something else.”
But Eliza loves that company. And I’m the one who drove it into the ground. She’ll be devastated. Unless…
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Jase, grabbing the phone and dialing even as I’m heading for the exit. “I’ve got to make a call.”
20
Eliza
“Hey there,” I say into Liam’s voicemail, idly fingering the hem of a strapless silk gown as Maddie and I stroll through the formalwear department at Bloomingdale’s. “It’s me. Again. And I guess I missed you. Again? Anyway, I’m out doing some last-minute shopping for Verity’s big launch party tonight. Stay tuned for dressing room selfies.” I lower my voice. “I might even be wearing a dress in a few of them.”
I hang up to find Maddie raising her eyebrows at me from across a display of beaded shawls. “Saucy,” she says, her red lips smiling in approval.
“Sexy selfies are just about the only trick I’ve got left in my bag right now,” I confess with a sigh as we weave through the racks of brightly colored lace and chiffon. “Liam and I have been playing phone tag all week, I don’t know what’s going on with him.” I frown. “I sounded breezy, right? I think I sounded breezy.”
“Totally breezy,” Maddie assures me, but I can feel a hard knot of anxiety lodging itself in my chest. I try to push it down, reminding myself that we’ve both been busy with work and the final details of Verity’s launch. Still, the truth is that other than a few stolen kisses (okay, grope-fests) in the supply closet at the office, Liam and I have barely connected in days. And even though I know it’s not intentional on his part—at least, I don’t think it’s intentional on his part?—I miss him.
And all the sex we could be having.
And all the pancakes we could be eating after the aforementioned sex.
“Look on the bright side,” Maddie advises now, examining a pair of satin pumps with a five-inch heel. “Liam is just swamped with Sterling stuff, right? It’s not like you don’t know what he’s up to. I mean, Mark is always super-busy at the hospital, but I don’t worry about it because I know by the end of his shift he’s too tired to cheat. And in the meantime, I just enjoy my freedom.” She wiggles the shoe in my direction. “And shop.”
“I know.” I smile, draping a fitted red dress over one arm. “I’m not worried about him cheating. Liam isn’t like that.”