“Unbelievable.” I clenched my teeth to stop the string of curses that threatened to burst out of me. “Can I have a moment with you? Outside?”
She stood, gesturing for the door. “Certainly. But if it’s anything like the first time, it’ll be a quick moment.”
“Roasted!” Chris said, slamming his fist on the table and barking a laugh.
I half pushed Chelsea out of the room and jammed my finger toward Chris. “You’re not helping.”
He held up his palms in innocence. “Neither is the massive hard on you’re sporting from being within five feet of her.”
Stupidly, I glanced down to confirm I wasn’t tenting my pants.
Chris laughed. “He actually looked. This guy—”
I slammed the door, then rounded on Chelsea so her back was against the wall. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Kind of irrelevant, isn’t it? Do your nostrils always flare when you get mad? It’s kind of cute.”
I pushed off the wall and walked a circle with my hands on my hips. She had no idea how much money was at stake in there. She had no idea how much thought I’d put into this transition in my brother’s career—and by extension, my career. “I want you out of my life.”
“In that case, there’s something I should probably tell you.”
I shook my head, pointing to the security that was finally coming down the hall. “No. You probably shouldn’t. Why don’t you go back to being irrelevant?”
I knew I had to be imagining things, but her eyes looked almost watery. She licked her lips, paused, then nodded. “Suit yourself. I hope you have a horrible life, cockmuncher.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together. Where the hell did this woman come from? I almost wondered if my brother had fed information to her on how to most efficiently get under my skin.
Security took her by the arms and led her away, but not before she could shout one last thing over her shoulder to me. “You’re not even that hot. You have chicken wing shoulder blades!”
I let out a long sigh through my nose, but before I stepped back into the conference room, I tried to adjust my posture. Chicken wing shoulder blades? What the fuck did that even mean?
It didn’t matter. By tomorrow, I’d forget all about Chelsea Cross and her brief but fiery interruption of my life. That’s all she was. Like an asteroid burning up in the atmosphere before it could touch ground. Distracting, bright, oddly fascinating to look at, but ultimately meaningless.ChelseaFive Years LaterSomebody once told me to make a list of the things I’d give up my life for. Take a look at that list, they said, and you’d have your compass to live by. You’d know exactly what you valued. What was worth giving everything up for.
Call me a bad child if you wanted, but I wouldn’t die for my parents without question. Would I risk my life to save them? Sure. Would I take a bullet for them? Sure. Maybe even two bullets if they were a low caliber.
My dad might only get one bullet from me, because I swore when I was fifteen, I’d never forgive him for smashing my phone. Call me a woman of my word.
But there was something in my life I’d die for without question. That little something was currently snarling at me from the backseat of my car.
I tipped my rearview while we waited at a red light so I could see her. She had dark hair and the most stunning blue eyes I’d ever seen. She was quick with a smile and just as quick with her temper.
“I’m gonna knock you out, momma.”
I quirked an eyebrow into the mirror. “I’d like to see that, considering you’re strapped into a carseat. Tough guy.”
She curled her lip and made a fierce show of struggling against her harness. “For now.”
I choked on my water, laughing. “Who even are you?”
She snarled again. “A monster. A big one.”
I may have been stuck in traffic. I may have been struggling to keep a roof over our heads. I may have been trying and failing to do the whole single mom thing with grace. But it was the little moments that reminded me why she was worth everything.
That was Luna. She was the only thing on my list. The little package I’d close my eyes and step off the roof for without an ounce of regret.
In a lot of ways, I guess I’d already sacrificed one part of my life for her. Deciding to keep her had been one of the harder decisions of my life, and it had certainly cost me. It cost me my budding tennis career. It cost me relationships, namely with my parents, who thought I shouldn’t keep a kid when the dad wasn’t in the picture.
It had also cost me a few tough lessons. When she was born, I’d made the mistake of thinking I could still date men like I used to. It only took a few bad experiences to show me that I wasn’t just dating for me anymore. I was dating for both of us. I couldn’t settle for the bad boy with a disregard for authority anymore. I couldn’t enjoy a few months with the hot mess that doesn’t have his life together but makes me smile.