Love Me Like That (29 page)

“I want to say right off the bat I was very impressed with your resume.” I smile at her. “The fact that you’ve been a PA before is a huge plus. You’re interviewing for Mr. Bland today. Do you know anything about Bland & Platt?”

“I’m sorry; I don’t. I’ve only just moved to Spokane.” I shift slightly in my seat, suddenly nervous about why it seems I’d need to know about the organization prior to getting the job. I immediately wonder if he’s horrible to work for. “Is that a problem?” I ask trying to judge her reaction.

“Not at all. He’s just really known here in the city.” She shifts her eyes down to the papers on her desk, and I can tell she didn’t mean anything by her question. Now it seems more like small talk than the ominous warning from before.

We go through the basic interview questions. I answer appropriately telling from the smile on her face. Next we shift gears to the benefits package and schedules.

“Mr. Bland keeps a pretty basic schedule. Most, if not all, of his appointments, are kept here at the office. There may be an occasional lunch you’d need to attend, but that is, of course, an exception to the everyday routine.”

I nod my head as she continues to speak about holidays, vacation pay, and insurance.

I paid out of pocket for the doctor’s office visit yesterday, grateful he had an in-house lab rather than having to go to the hospital to have the bloodwork done. The latter would have cost an arm and a leg.

Deciding I need to be one hundred percent honest with anyone I interview with I asked a question that may have me shot straight out the door. “Do you know what kind of coverage there is for preexisting conditions?”

She tilts her head slightly to the side. “Like diabetes?”

“Pregnancy,” I answer quietly.

“When are you due?” Her demeanor has changed slightly as she cuts her eyes to my stomach.

“In the fall,” I reply.

I see her look at my left hand before asking her next question. “You’re not covered on your husband’s insurance?”

I hold my head as high as I can. “I’m not married.”

She restacks the papers again, tapping the small pile repeatedly. “We have supplemental insurance, but I’m almost certain that your condition won’t be covered under that either.”

Somehow my perfect resume means absolutely nothing because I’m having a baby. I knew I’d get some looks and possibly snide remarks when I started showing, but I never thought it would start so close to me finding out.

“That’s okay. I can manage without it.”
Like I have a choice.

Her face twists in mild disgust. “Well, Ms. Sykes I’ll review your application.” She emphasizes Ms. as if it’s now a filthy word.

Her phone rings before I can stand from my seat. I know I need to go, but I don’t want to be rude even though it’s obvious I’ll still be looking for a job after I leave here. I can only hear her side of the conversation.

“Hello.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, until,” she cuts her eyes at me and I know instinctually that the conversation is somehow about me.

“No, sir.”

“Of course, sir.”

She hangs up the phone, and she’s practically dripping with disdain. “Are you able to start Monday?”

I nearly fall out of my seat at her words. It leaves me speechless, and I stare at her and back to the phone she just cradled the handpiece on.

“Well?” She says, even more, annoyed. I want to ask her who was on the phone, but I’m not going to push my luck.

“Sure. Yes. Of course.” I’m grinning from ear to ear at the fact that something is finally going right in my life.

“See you then,” she huffs and turns her attention to her computer screen effectively dismissing me.

I get up and see myself out. She’s got a major attitude and some serious issues with me being pregnant, but I’ll be Mr. Bland’s PA not hers. Hopefully, that means my interactions with her will be very limited.

The next day the luck continued when I signed a six-month lease on a cute little two bedroom cottage. I may not still be living here when the baby is born, but the second room is perfect for a nursery if I am. It comes furnished, so that was a huge selling point for me.

The woman renting the home, unlike Ms. Gilson, had no concern for me being pregnant without being married. I think she likes the idea actually, presumably because pregnant women aren’t going to throw parties and damage property. She did ask if I anticipated problems with the baby’s father and seemed satisfied when I told her there was no chance of that.

The house was move-in ready, so I got keys the second I signed the lease agreement. In a matter of hours, I was comfortably situated in my very own rented home, on my own for the very first time in my life. I have all day tomorrow to stock the kitchen and buy the odds and ends that accompany moving into a new place for the first time.

I spend that night the same way I’d spent every night this week, crying myself to sleep and wishing Kadin had never lied to me, wishing I were enough. As much as things are looking up with the house and job my heart is still shattered. It feels like this time it’s much worse than any time before. I reason with myself that it’s because this last heartbreak happened before my heart was healed from Trent’s betrayal. The truth is my feelings for Kadin are solely what makes it almost unbearable.

No amount of praying has brought her back. The hours spent driving all over town have remained fruitless. I am; however, fully stocked on anger, sadness, and guilt. I’ve spent the last week recollecting as much detail from each one of our conversations as possible, picking them apart. I tried to determine what I may have said or how I may have reacted that would cause her to think leaving after finding out that she’s pregnant is the best thing.

It’s taken days and more patience than I thought it would to track down the bar that her ex-Trent works at. As I sit in the parking lot of the bar, I close my eyes for a brief second. I’m exhausted, having spent most nights wrapped in the covers on her bed, tossing and turning with sleep remaining elusive.

I’ve done my best to keep up my end of the agreement with the board, running on steam most days at the office; which is still a vast improvement over my days there before my trip to the cabin. Before London.

My boots crunch over the gravel of a nearly empty parking lot. As much as I need to see her again I’m glad her car isn’t one of the five parked out front. She was adamant about this chapter of her life being closed, but this asshole is the only other connection I have to her.

I pull the heavy door open and walk across the sticky floor to the bar. A man, who looks questionably old enough to drink himself, is behind the bar loading beer into the in-counter ice chest, obviously gearing up for Saturday night patrons.

He sees me approach and wipes his hands on a bar towel before speaking. “We don’t open for another half hour, man.”
Not the most aware businessman is he?

“I need to see Trent.” He doesn’t say a word just walks away from the bar and through a door to the left.

I turn my back to the bar and look around. It’s nothing special, just a slightly rundown, not quite clean hole in the wall.

“Can I help you?” I turn towards the voice and want to laugh, and then cuss London and her choice of men.

A tall, skinny man with almost white hair and freakishly, clear blue eyes approaches me with his hand out.
Not today fucker
. I cross my arms over my chest, a clear indication I’m not here as his friend.

“When was the last time you heard from, London?” I all but growl. I hope he’s just as aware of the hate in my voice as I am.

He switches gears from shitty business man to apparent enemy instantly. My lip twitches at the corner satisfied that I can get him riled with just one simple question.

He looks me up and down, clearly evaluating the situation before he responds. I’m waiting to see if he’s as dumb as he fucking looks.

“Who are you?” He finally asks. The fact that he answers my question with a question of his own rubs me the wrong way. I take a step closer to him, and his eyes widen slightly and he takes a small step backward. Not a complete idiot it seems. “You’re the guy who answered her phone aren’t you?”

I see a girl walk through the same door that Trent just came from. I’d put money on her as being Keira, the friend London said she caught fucking Trent. The flush in her cheeks and the dishevelment of her hair scream post-sex.

“That’s not important. When was the last time you saw London?” I’ve lowered my voice and can hardly manage to keep the growl out of it, this time, growing more agitated as each second passes.

“Weeks ago. What’s it to you?” I sneer at him, and he takes another step back, colliding with the slut who’s slinked up beside him, placing a possessive hand on his back.

He looks at her with disdain, but she’s too busy raking her eyes down my body.
Not interested skank. Move on.

“That didn’t take long,” I say nodding at the contact between them.

Trent takes a quick step away from Keira, and her face falls.

Satisfied that he hasn’t seen or heard from her since she left three weeks ago, I begin to turn to the door.

Finally growing a pair of balls at the sight of my back, he crosses a line I don’t tolerate. “What did she do? Fuck you and run?”

I don’t even think before I close the distance between us, swing my arm back, and pop him in the fucking nose. He splays back half lying on the table behind him. Keira is trying to help him up, but he continues to shove her away.

I strode to the door, incredibly satisfied with the slight throb I feel across my knuckles. Just before stepping outside I turn back to them. “You know,” I say. “I should thank both of you. You sent her right into my arms.” I point at Trent. “You are a fucking idiot for downgrading from London to that.” I shift the direction of my finger to the woman who’s wide-eyed and unsure of her station.

He keeps his mouth shut but I watch him cut his eyes from me to Keira, and I can see the awareness in his eyes. He’s very cognizant of what he lost and clearly regretting his choices.

On my long drive back to Spokane, I’m antsy. There was no reason to get a hotel room in Great Falls even though driving straight through will put me back home early in the morning. I wouldn’t have slept even if I wanted to.

I drive by the entrance to the cabin’s property near midnight and have no desire to stop. I’m not a fan of the pain in my chest and walking into that cabin, where every night I spent there was with London, would kill me. I hate feeling helpless. I hate not being able to find her.