The Man Who Has No Love - Victoria Quinn Page 0,55
the lobby, grateful none of my former clients were there to watch me walk out of that building with a box of my belongings in my hands.
I recognized Mr. Kline’s blacked-out Mercedes.
I walked to the door, took a deep breath, and then joined him in the back seat, the box on my lap.
The driver stared straight ahead, his earbuds masking our conversation.
I stared at my box, unable to look at him. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity, Mr. Kline. I’ve really enjoyed my time here.” I was being fired for a legitimate reason. I did break the rules by sleeping with not one but two residents. I wouldn’t argue my case when I was totally guilty. I regretted the first transgression, but not the second…even if he left me.
Mr. Kline was quiet, as if he didn’t know how to respond to that.
I kept looking at the box so I wouldn’t have to see his face.
“Cleo, I didn’t want to do this…if that makes a difference. You’re the best concierge I’ve ever had. I’ll have to replace you, but they’ll never be as good as you. But…I don’t have a choice.”
“I know.” My time was over, and instead of sobbing my way through it, I chose to have some dignity, to be graceful instead of a blubbering mess. The puffy eyes and red cheeks could wait until I got home.
“I just don’t understand why you did it. Why would you be so stupid?”
I would never have a legitimate excuse to justify the first one. But for the second, the answer was easy. I was in love.
“You’re better than that, Cleo.”
I continued to stare at my box because it was too hard to meet his gaze.
“You have no idea how much of a headache this has been for me.” He sighed loudly. “And now it’s going to be a bigger headache finding someone to replace you, because if I can’t find the right person, it’s going to affect the desirability of the building. And with you gone, the rest of the staff has to sprint around trying to keep up. It’s just…a fucking nightmare.”
My life was a nightmare, too.
“You can’t take any of my residents because of the contract, and make no mistake, I will sue you. And if you tell anyone about the residents who live in my building, I’ll sue you for that too.”
So basically, I couldn’t even tell people I’d worked here. “Alright.”
He sighed again. “Well…good luck.”
So, this conversation wasn’t compassionate at all. It was just to scare me. “You too, Mr. Kline.” I opened the door and got out of the car, carrying my box of things down the street. When I made it to the corner and crossed, the tears started.
And I sobbed the whole way home.
Thirteen
Deacon
Valerie gave me the cold shoulder after I told her how I felt about Cleo.
As a result, I didn’t get to see Derek.
I texted her a few times and got no response.
Since Derek was in the building and I could get to him if I really needed to, I let it go.
Besides, I was in a dark place anyway.
I hadn’t been this pissed off in a long time, not since Valerie wouldn’t let me see Derek after I moved. I’d screamed at her over the phone, overwhelmed by the bullshit. Now I felt that way…but a million times worse.
I focused on my research and spent the week at the hospital doing my patient care.
I brought my own lunch—because I wouldn’t ask Cleo for a damn thing.
Like I asked, Matt handled everything for me. He took care of my groceries and dry cleaning, picking up where Cleo left off like she’d given him a detailed explanation of every little item I needed.
And I didn’t see him often either. He usually took care of everything before I came home. I was working late hours, so that wasn’t surprising.
I sat at the desk on the cancer ward, all my notes around me while the patient charts were open on my computers.
Dr. Hawthorne pulled up a chair on wheels and took a seat, wearing light blue scrubs with her hair pulled back. “Guess what?” She placed the papers in front of me, lab results that had just come back. After the charity dinner, she’d acted like nothing awkward had happened, returning to professionalism. If she had been hitting on me, she didn’t admit it.
I grabbed the papers and flipped through them. “Is this from today?”