She takes a deep breath and repeats it, word for word.
“I’m fired?”
Declan’s eyebrows shoot up and he mouths the word. I shrug. None of this makes sense.
“Not yet, but when Greg calls...”
“Was this because I didn’t do the mystery shop I’m on right now correctly?” The words come out of my mouth and I know they’re wrong, but what she’s saying doesn’t make sense.
“No, honey. It’s because your mom and Jessica publicly blew your cover and the client basically needs to save face. It’s all public relations. They need a fall guy. And that’s...you.”
“I’m the fall guy?”
She sighs. “Yes. I’m so sorry,” she adds in a rush. “Greg feels awful about it and argued with the client forever, but they are absolutely adamant. The credit union called the client and it’s turned into a nasty mess.”
“Have you talked to my mom?”
Amanda pauses mid breath. “She, uh, didn’t really understand what a see-you-next-Tuesday Jessica could be.”
My jaw drops. “She didn’t realize that? After everything we’ve dealt with?”
“I think your mom just turned into a Mama Bear and went crazy.”
“Like that’s different from...what?” Declan crawls on the bed and starts massaging my shoulders, which are two big lumps of granite right now. Fired. I’m fired.
Fired for doing my job.
Fired for nearly losing the man who is right behind me, touching me with tenderness and compassion, trying to massage the crazy away.
Fired for being loved by a mother who has the business skills of a sno-cone salesman in a blizzard.
Bzzzzz. I haven’t even reached for my phone to look at the Twittermess. I can only imagine. But Declan reaches across me, smelling like sex and spice and mmmmm, and hands me my phone.
Greg.
“Is that Greg on your phone?” Amanda asks with a pitying voice.
“This is real. You’re serious,” I whisper.
“I wish I weren’t. Trust me.”
Declan peels the receiver from my fingers carefully. “Answer the phone, Shannon. Get it over with. It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off. It’s better to just do it.” The look he gives me is no-nonsense, but understanding at the same time.
I take a deep breath, hit Talk, and say, “You don’t have to say it, Greg. I already know.”
Declan heads to the bathroom to give me some privacy. I hear the shower turn on as Greg blusters and apologizes, rants and overexplains. His words pour over me as I wonder how my life could pivot like this in less than twenty-four hours.
I get my (ex) boss off the phone quickly so I can go shower with my (ex-ex) boyfriend. Just as I knock on the door the water stops. Great. He’s one of those people who can take a three-minute shower.
Freak.
“Come in.” I open the door a crack and poke my head in. He’s toweling off. His face softens into a look of compassion.
“You okay?”
“I’m fired.”
“Come here.” He opens his arms and I walk into his embrace, still in a state of shock. Even my libido is stunned, because the press of his clean, wet wall of skin against my body isn’t making me hump his leg.
“I have more student loan debt than you could ever imagine. Plus credit cards, and now I won’t have a car because I have to give the Turdmobile back. And as bad as it was driving that piece of—”
“Shhhhhh,” he urges. “It’ll be fine.”
“Fine? No, it won’t! You try finding a good, steady job in this economy. I have a marketing degree. I’m lucky I haven’t spent the last year handing out new product samples at Costco for $15 an hour!”
“You’ll find a better job,” he says with confidence.
For some reason, his reassurance is annoying. “I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.” He rests his chin on my head. “Because I want you to come work for me.”
My laughter makes my br**sts bounce against his chest. “Ha ha.”
He pulls away, eyes dead serious. “I mean it. Come work at Anterdec. Assistant Director of Marketing.”
“I really don’t need you to make fun of me right now.”
“I don’t joke about business. We’ll pay you more, Anterdec has great benefits, and you’ll get stock options, bonus, and a great maternity leave package.” He winks.
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” I feel numb.
“Did I overdo it on the maternity comment?” He makes a sheepish face. “Didn’t mean to over play my hand.”
“No, I mean that you’d think I’d just jump right in and take a job working for you, that you’d ride in on your white horse and rescue me.”
“That’s not what I—”
I start to shake. Can’t control it, can’t mute it. Just...shake. It’s all too much, from Guido being Terry to my confrontation with James to reuniting with Declan and now I’m fired?
And Declan wants to wrap me up in gauze and make me his little porcelain doll.
Nope.
“I, um, need a shower. Don’t you have a business meeting or something you need to get to?” I mutter as I turn on the water and climb in. I couldn’t hint any more if I shoved him out the door and threw his clothes at him.
Declan’s face appears between the tiled wall and the shower curtain, like Jack Nicholson breaking through the door in the old version of The Shining. Okay, not quite that bad, but...
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he says, and climbs on in with me.
“You just showered!” I protest. The slick feel of his skin against mine as he holds me from behind is at odds with my righteous indignation, which I’m holding onto by a thin thread.
“I can get wet again.” He turns me around, the hot spray glorious against my back, my hair hanging in limp strands against my cheekbones and shoulders, Declan’s second head definitely not limp. “And my eyes are up here,” he coaxes.
I raise mine. “Oops.”
“You’re ogling me.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He kisses me so deeply I think my toes have curled into themselves. “Don’t be mad. I really mean it about the job. I thought about offering it to you a while ago.”
“How long ago?”
“The day you showed up at that meeting after the toilet incident.”