“Pretty much.”
“Look, I don’t want to hurt her. You can tell Luna that if anything, I’ve been working to build her up. Some guy from her past did a number on her. Got in her head.” He squinted, possibly from the sun, but his expression tweaked my defenses. “I care about her. I keep offering to help her out where I can.” Under my breath I muttered, “She turns me down.”
“You think it’s not going to hurt when you leave? If she moved in with you?”
A woman and her dog meandered down the beach, and I tracked them. “Did you see a forever scenario with every single person you’ve ever dated?”
“No.”
“Well, then, why does it have to be forever for me? I like her. We’ve got a good thing going. I mean, yeah, we’ve had a disagreement here and there, but she’s been at my place every night for the last week. It’s good. Easy. Why is Luna getting involved?”
“Dude. She’s not getting involved. She just thinks Poppy shouldn’t move in with you.”
I ground my teeth and refused to look Tate’s way. I liked the idea of Poppy being in my house after I left. It’d give us a reason to keep in touch, to segue to friendship. And I’d be helping her out while she got her restaurant going. Got her feet on the ground.
A larger wave with promise rolled up, and for the next minute a paddle battle broke out. Tate coasted on the wave, while I wiped out.
He laughed, and I headed in.
I shouted a goodbye from the sand. He’d said his piece. I peeled off the wetsuit, rinsed, and went for a run down Federal Road, through the middle of the island.
I returned sweaty and pissed off. A few negative earnings reports cemented my foul mood. My phone rang, and I recognized the first digits as being my firm.
“Hello?”
“Hello. May I please speak with Mr. Chesterton?”
“This is he.” The woman called my business cell, but I played along.
“This is Mrs. Rodriguez in Belman Human Resources. This phone call is being recorded.”
I placed the call on speakerphone and pulled out my legal file and pen.
“You’ve been on a paid leave for the past four weeks.”
“Yes.”
“In light of the ongoing investigation, we will be terminating your employment, effective immediately.”
“Excuse me?”
“Under normal circumstances, we would notify you in person, but given you have chosen to relocate to another state, we are notifying you via a recorded phone call. Additional paperwork will be sent to you via both email and courier.”
“I have been working under the advice of Belman legal counsel. Let me get Pulman on the line.”
“Sir, Mr. Brooks, our general counsel, and Mr. Pulman are both aware of this decision.”
The rest of the short phone call blurred. The moment the call ended, I called my legal team and left a message with a secretary. Then I lobbed a call to Nigel, my old boss. He registered zero surprise. Said I should’ve expected this.
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” I shouted into the phone. The mother fucker hung up on me. I didn’t do anything wrong, but he sure as fuck did.
Stocks scrolled by on my computer screen. The numbers blurred out of focus. I slammed my front door behind me. I stood in my yard, the sole occupant on East Beach Drive. I needed to get the fuck away. The silence drove me mad. I needed horns and restaurants and bars and life. Something other than a squawking seagull. The nuisances ruined meals. Hovering nearby, attempting to swoop in and steal food.
I jumped on the golf cart. I craved the squeal of tires, the roar of an engine. Instead, my cart putted along with the sound of crunching gravel and sand beneath the tires. Blaring the Foo Fighters from a golf cart lacked the same cathartic effect as blasting it from the open window of a squealing Ferrari.
By the time I reached Poppy’s place, my emotions boiled. I slung her screen door back, and it slammed shut behind me with a loud bang.
“Hello?” she called.
I pounded up her stairs. She met me two steps down with a silk kimono wrapped around her and a face full of make-up.
“They fucking fired me.” I’d always known this was a possibility. My lawyers warned me. But I couldn’t fucking believe it. I’d made that firm so much money. And I hadn’t done a god damn thing wrong.
Poppy stood on the stairs, frozen. Those big blue eyes…I stared into them, lost. She descended the stairs and met me midway. She looped her arms around my neck and pulled me into her soft curves.
“I’ve never been fired before.” The words stung. The wave of anger crashed. An unease grew. Unfamiliar emotions dragged me down like a weight. Her soft lips brushed my neck. Her fingers slid between mine, and she tugged, leading me up the stairs. I sat on her bed while she stepped into the bathroom.
The faucet turned on. I collapsed on her bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting. I had options. But I didn’t feel like thinking through my options. I didn’t feel like thinking.
Poppy leaned over the bed, hands on her hips. She wore jeans, a sweater, boots, and less make-up.
“I’ve been fired before. This is what you do.” Her fingers grazed my chin, urging me to look up at her. “You take the day. We do whatever you want. Ice cream. Beer. Whatever. The rest of the day is your day.” Her proposal struck me as ludicrous. “And then? Tomorrow, you make a plan. One door closed. So tomorrow, you’re going to decide what door you’re going to open. But today? Today, it’s all about you. It’s what they
