Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2) - Jana Aston Page 0,70
have twelve hours to think about it because Daisy isn’t answering her phone. I can piece together what happened based on the trail of evidence through my condo. Abandoned peanut butter cups and a copy of MoneyWeek lying on the sofa. Her suitcase gone. That and she finally used the credit card I gave her—to buy a flight to Chicago.
I’m an idiot, but I’m not guilty of anything that she’s thinking right now.
I am guilty of omitting far too much though. Never a good idea, Luke was right about that.
I arrive at her apartment complex just before four AM. A ridiculous hour and I think about sitting in my car while staring at her door until sunrise, at the very least, but I can’t do it. I need to see her. I need to fix this. I need to know she’s okay.
Also, this is so unlike her. She’s not usually dramatic about anything, which tells me I’ve really, really fucked up.
She has a doorbell, and I ring it, sorry to do so in the middle of the night, but she must know I’d come. She must realize I’d never let her walk away from me without a fight.
No, dickhead, I chastise myself. She doesn’t realize that because you’ve never said the words.
It takes three rings and several minutes before I can feel her, positive she’s on the other side of the door staring at me through the peephole. I tap the door with my knuckles. “Daisy, open the—”
The door opens.
She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt, legs bare. Her hair is messy from sleep and her eyes are tired.
“What are you doing here?” She seems surprised to see me.
“Sorry it’s late. I just got in. Flights to Chicago were cancelled so I had to drive or I’d have been here earlier.”
She blinks at me, head tilted to the side. “You drove from Philadelphia?”
“Of course.”
She stares some more.
“Daisy, may I come inside? Please?” I add when she doesn’t seem certain she’s going to allow it. She shrugs and steps back, leaving the door ajar for me to follow.
“Where’s Margo?”
“Margo? What the fuck does Margo have to do with anything?” Unless… unless she saw the texts Margo sent. My iPad. Fuck. “It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?” she challenges, arms crossed over her chest, her chin tilting up in defiance.
“I imagine you saw a handful of the texts she sent to me and you think I’m a lying, cheating son of a bitch, but you wouldn’t think that if you could see my half of the texts. You can, if you want.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and unlock it, then attempt to hand the phone to her, but she’s taken a step back and is looking at me like I drown kittens for fun.
“A handful? Do you text each other all the time?”
“Daisy, no.” I exhale and run a hand through my hair. This is going badly.
“I saw you get in the car with her yesterday. When you were supposedly in a meeting.” She says it quietly, her eyes wary.
“If you saw that then you arrived a minute too late to see there were already two lawyers and a representative from human resources in the car. We took her to an off-site office to let her go.”
“Let her go?”
“Margo was fired yesterday, or technically speaking, she agreed to take a severance package and resign to avoid a bigger mess.”
She blinks at me, surprised.
“Yesterday’s texts were not the first unwanted and inappropriate texts from her. I’ve brushed her off in the past, because it’s complicated due to our history together and my position at the company. But once you came into the picture I escalated the situation to human resources and we began the process of an exit package for her.”
“You drove all night?” Apparently she’s ignoring what I’ve just said and bouncing back to that.
“Yes. Of course. Whatever it took to get to you.”
“You could’ve just called. If my phone was on.” She’s uncrossed her arms and is wiggling her wedding ring on her finger. I’m relieved to see she’s still wearing it.
“Agreed. But I’d have still come to get you anyway.”
She nods, not really looking at me. She seems distracted, or like she’s not ready to believe me quite yet. “Why did you escalate the situation when I showed up?”
“Because you’re my wife and I wasn’t going to allow her to disrespect you that way.”
“Right.” She gazes at me like I’ve just said something wrong.
“I’m in love