The Boss Project by Vi Keeland

“I did.”

“But you did that after you dumped me. Why?”

Merrick’s face fell. “I told you I would, and I didn’t think you would do it on your own.”

I stood and put my hands on my desk, leaning forward. “You told me you would? Well, why keep that commitment when you didn’t keep the one that convinced me to trust you? You know, the one where you promised you’d never hurt me?”

He had the audacity to look like my comment upset him. Merrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re sorry?” I nodded and rolled my eyes before sitting back down. “Thanks for that. It helps a lot.”

Merrick took a step toward my desk, but I put my hand up, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t,” I said. “I don’t need another apology, and I certainly don’t need you to pay for an alarm system out of some sense of pity or whatever it is. So unless you have something else to say, like maybe explaining the truth of what happened between us, there’s nothing more we need to discuss.”

Merrick finally looked in my eyes. He looked sad, but I didn’t care.

“You know what?” I said. “You once told me my ex was a coward. And you were right, he is. But so are you.” I shook my head. “Just please go before I get upset.”





CHAPTER 30

Merrick



“I am a fucking coward,” I grumbled, staring down into the bottom of my empty glass. Well, not empty, considering the ice I’d tossed in when I’d filled it three quarters of the way up with whiskey fifteen minutes ago hadn’t had a chance to melt yet. Now the bottle—that shit was almost empty.

I stared over at the coffee table, at the upside-down box and its contents that I’d spilled all over the place two nights ago, after Evie had asked me to leave her office. Leaning forward, I swiped a picture from the pile, one I’d stared at for hours on end over the last two days, trying to find my nose and my chin—the ones I’d so clearly known were mine the day my little girl was born. Yet now all I saw was Amelia’s face—her nose, her chin, her dark blue, distant eyes. I wanted to rip up the damn photo and never see it again. But I’d cherished the day it was taken even more than I hated the ones that came after.

The alcohol started to hit—either that or my apartment was spinning faster than a ride at Disney. So I laid back on the couch with the photo still in my hands, and I shut my eyes with one foot on the floor to keep me grounded. It didn’t take long until I drifted off to sleep. Sometime later, a loud banging on my door woke me up.

At least I thought someone had been banging. But as I sat up and glanced around, my apartment was silent. Ugh. But my head. Apparently, the pounding I’d thought was coming from the door was coming from my brain.

Tha-thump, tha-thump.

Fuck. It felt like a little drummer boy was inside my skull practicing for a solo. I dropped my head into my hands and massaged my temples. But then the loud banging in my head turned into surround sound, and a voice joined in with the band.

“Crawford, open the damn door before I break it down. I know you’re in there.”

Fuck.

I needed Will riding my ass right now like I needed a hole in the head.

“Go away! I’m fine,” I yelled back.

“Not good enough. Get your ass up and open the door.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head, knowing the pain in the ass was not going anywhere. Basically, the faster I dragged my ass to the door, the faster I could get rid of him.

When I stood from the couch, I barely stuck the landing.

Damn, I suck at drinking.

I tried to move my head as little as possible as I treaded to the front door and unlocked it.

Will opened the door and looked me up and down. “Jesus Christ, those are the clothes you were in two days ago. I knew you weren’t out of town.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “And you stink like stale liquor.” He shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave the drinking to me? You never could develop a tolerance worth shit.”

I started back to the couch without saying a word. Unfortunately, seeing I was alive wasn’t good enough. Will shut the door behind him and followed me in.

“What the hell is going on with you?”

I sat down on the couch with my head hanging. It was too heavy to hold up.

Will looked at the shit strewn all over the coffee table. “Oh fuck. What happened?” He bent and picked up the tiny baby cap Eloise wore the day she was born.

“Don’t touch that,” I managed to grumble.

He sighed loudly and walked away. I hoped maybe he’d realized I was going through something and decided to respect my privacy. But he came back two minutes later.

“Take these.” He held out a few pills and a tall glass of water. “Three Motrin and hydrate to start.” Then he started typing on his phone. “I’m ordering Gatorade, bananas, and a pastrami on rye from the deli down the block that delivers.”

I squinted up at him. “There’s no way I could eat pastrami.”

“That’s not for you, jackass. It’s for me. I’m starving. You’ll have the Gatorade and bananas. You need electrolytes and potassium.” He finished typing and tossed his phone on the couch, taking the seat across from me. “Talk to me. What happened?”