The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,202

wanted to do? “Yes, I’m sure. You want to check my bank account?” I’d already had to send in copies of my bank account information to the government to prove I could support Aiden and me—in a much less lavish lifestyle, but I could if push came to shove, at least the government thought so.

Trevor made a small noise in the back of his throat that had me leveling my gaze at him.

I didn’t want to talk to him; now he was just downright pissing me off. “Is that what this is about? Do you think I’m here to blow all of Aiden’s money? Did you think I was trying to win him over or something?” I asked slowly, carefully trying to finally understand what it might be about my personality that had made him so hostile from the moment I’d started working for him.

From the way he pulled at his ear, in that nervous tick I’d picked up on years ago when he was frustrated, I’d hit the nail perfectly on the head.

“Really? You interviewed and hired me. I didn’t even know who he was until you told me.” Yeah, I was getting just as defensive as I thought I sounded. “You could have fired me if you had that much of a problem with it.”

“Fired you?” His hand went to the back of his trimmed, salt-and-pepper head. “I tried firing you at least four times.”

What?

Trevor’s lip snarled. “You didn’t know?”

“When?” I coughed out.

“Does it matter?”

It shouldn’t but... “It does to me.”

The angry, bitter man simply gazed at me like I was dumb. “He wouldn’t let me.”

You know nothing, Vanessa Mazur.

I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand at all.

“The last time I suggested we find him someone else, he said the first person that would go between the two of us would be me. Me.”

Some things just sort of clicked together. Why Trevor had always been such an asshole to me—prima ballerinas didn’t like dancing in anyone else’s limelight. Why he had fought so much to try to keep me from quitting—to save his own hide. Why he’d been so on edge since we got married and didn’t tell him—because it seemed like we were ganging up on him, which was a partial truth.

But the news made me reel.

It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet.

He’d liked me. Aiden had fucking liked me. He hadn’t been joking so many months ago.

The way Trevor cleared his throat was rough, catching, like he was trying to compose himself after losing his shit. “Anyway, tell Aiden I’ll be calling him soon. You two might be packing your bags and moving to colder pastures,” he noted. “See you.”

I didn’t say another word to him. What the hell else was there to say?

With shaking hands, I picked up my phone and typed out a message to the big guy.

Me: I didn’t know Trevor wanted to fire me.

An hour later, I got my response.

Aiden: Did he go by the house?

He wasn’t even trying to bullshit me.

Me: Yeah.

Aiden: Yes, he wanted to get rid of you. I didn’t let him.

Was he on crack?

Me: You didn’t say anything when I left. I just thought… you didn’t care.

Aiden: I wasn’t going to force you to stay if you wanted to go.

Me: But you could have said something. I would have stayed longer if you’d just asked.

I’d barely typed that out when I realized how stupid of an argument that was. If he’d asked. Aiden was like me, he wouldn’t have asked. Ever.

Aiden: I got you for longer, didn’t I?

Chapter Thirty

Why was I still doing this?

Why?

Why hadn’t I just said, “Van, who gives a shit whether you can run a marathon or not? You did more than you ever imagined you could. Who do you have to impress?”

As much as I hadn’t wanted it to, life had taken its toll on my head and confidence. Since everything happened, I’d barely been able to add another mile and a half to my distance, and that was pushing it. I walked and bitched while I did it, and afterward, I was so tired and my knee ached so badly, I crashed out on the bed after my shower and refused to get up.

Every sign said doing the marathon was a terrible idea.

Nothing changed the fact that I missed Zac’s company, and the way he motivated me to keep going even when we were both cussing about how stupid doing this was.

I had to do it. I’d trained

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