Big Shot(52)
He met Connor’s gaze. “Did you know about the job in Atlanta she was considering?”
“Yeah, she mentioned it.” His friend shrugged a shoulder. “Given the choice, she would have been a great asset to this company, but you stated your reasons for not wanting to hire her on, and while I respected that decision, as did Max and Kyle, I didn’t, and still don’t, agree with it. That whole ‘it’s not smart to mix business with family’ is a bunch of bullshit, and you know it.”
His logic, at the time, had made total sense to Wes. It had everything to do with the emotional scars and the horrible memories of his parents’ divorce. How family disputes, even in a business, could cause tension and resentments and tear relationships apart—because that’s all he’d known. But being put in a situation where he stood to lose everything that was important to him—and the firm wasn’t number one on the list, Natalie was—changed his whole perspective.
“So, now that you have an idea of how she feels about you, are you really going to let her go to Atlanta?” Connor asked, his gaze direct.
No. No, he wasn’t. “I take it I have your blessing, as her brother and my best friend?”
“Yeah, you do,” Connor said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a genuine smile. “I trust you with Natalie, and I know you’d never intentionally hurt her. And I know she’s good for you, too, and that’s what matters.”
If Connor trusted him, Wes realized that he had to trust himself to be the man that Natalie wanted and needed in her life. He wasn’t letting her go without a fight. Without laying all his cards on the table and making sure she knew, without any doubts, how he felt about her.
He had to try, because he knew if he didn’t do everything in his power to make her stay, losing Natalie Prescott would be his biggest regret in life.
And he wasn’t about to let that happen.
*
Saturday afternoon, Natalie was curled up on the couch, finally eating the Ben & Jerry’s Wes had bought for her while watching The Notebook on Netflix. Stuffing her face with ice cream and watching one of the most tragic love stories to appear on the big screen was certainly an appropriate way to drown her sorrows and heartache.
After the many text messages she’d received that morning, she wasn’t surprised when she heard a knock on the door. She’d been expecting the visitor, even though she had no desire to have company and had told him as much. Numerous times. But she also knew he wouldn’t go away, either, and that’s why she set down her carton of Chocolate Fudge Brownie and finally went to answer the door.
She opened it without looking through the peephole, and surprise, surprise, Richard stood on the other side. “I told you I’m a total grump and not in the mood to be social.”
“Too f*cking bad,” he retorted, unfazed by her cranky disposition as he walked right into her condo without an invitation, a bakery bag in his hand.
She sighed, closed the door, and followed him into the living room.
He eyed the carton of ice cream on the coffee table, then glanced at her with a raised brow. “I brought chocolate cake for the depressed and broken-hearted, but it looks like someone already beat me to it.”
“Wes bought it for me when I was sick, when he brought over the soup,” she admitted.
Richard grinned, looking impressed. “So, the guy does have potential.”
She rolled her eyes because it didn’t matter what Wes had done three days ago, the sweet gestures and taking care of her when she was sick, because all that was over. She’d gone into the affair knowing who Wes was, that there wouldn’t be any promises, and she’d certainly known not to get more emotionally attached to him than she already was.
Too late for that, her heart mocked her.
Richard gave her clothes an admiring once-over. “By the way, I approve of your mopey attire. It’s very . . . chic.”
Okay, that made her laugh, damn him. The oversized cable-knit sweater that came to her thighs and the matching knee-high knitted socks were far from chic, but they made her feel warm and cozy and comforted. She grabbed her ice cream, sat back down, and resumed play on her movie.
Richard grabbed the remote and hit pause.
She glared at him. “Hey, this is my pity party, and I can sulk and watch depressing movies if I want to.”
He shook his head and put the remote out of her reach. “I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t help you out of this slump. Let’s go shopping and spend lots of money. Retail therapy can do wonders for a girl’s morale.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.” She leaned her head back against the top of the couch and closed her eyes, hating the heavy, oppressive feeling in her chest that reminded her of everything that had happened the day before in Wes’s office.
The hot sex she’d become addicted to, and the fact that Wes hadn’t even batted an eye when she told him about moving to Atlanta. How he’d given her an aloof they’ll be lucky to have you that had felt like a knife to her heart. He might as well have said, “Hey, it was nice f*cking you. I’ll see ya around.”
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, refusing to cry any more tears over Wes. Last night, she could have filled buckets, but just as she’d done after Mitch, she was going to move forward and figure things out, one day at a time. On her own and without Wes. And in Atlanta.