Page 4 of When the Walls Come Down
Nevertheless, deep down, I had to admit I’d moved here and buried myself in work. It was all I knew how to do. Correction: It was the thing I was confident I could do well. Something I finally didn’t have to worry about failing at.
I’d come a long way in the past few years. I’d be the first to admit I was a pretty worthless piece of shit there for a lot longer than I was proud of after my divorce. But it’s a punch to the gut when your college girlfriend pressures you to marry young and then cheats on you with your best friend less than two years later. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I didn’t do relationships—romantic or otherwise. I had my family and that was enough.
And back then, I’d let myself go. I drank too much to get through the pain and barely had any life at all in my parents’ basement. Sure, I was functioning and healthy now, both professionally and physically. But socially? Meh, probably not so much.
It wasn’t until I had seen what my sister went through with her first marriage and how fucking hard she ended up fighting for what—or rather who—she wanted that I’d even given a shit about doing better for myself.
And I had.
At first, coming to California to work for Casey had been a big leap of faith, but I couldn’t deny that it had been the right move. I had a killer apartment close to work. I was in the best mental, physical, and financial shape of my life. And I had the perfect job.
Well, I’d had the perfect job.
Maybe it was time for the next step. Something to truly call mine. Something no one and nothing could ever take away from me. I was finally a strong enough man to do it. The cold hard truth was I’d been stalling, and after seeing what my family had built for themselves, I knew that it was my turn to prove myself.
I was Shane fucking Warren, and the world was at my fingertips.
Well, as long as I could trust this new hire not to ruin all my hard work. Because that was something I refused to let happen. I’d fight to stay until I knew that everything I’d worked for was in good hands. I’d have to cross that bridge when I got to it. If I didn’t throw them—or myself—off it first.
So I had a month to figure things out or convince my family that I could stay and possibly get a life.The afternoon sky was starting to dim as I curled my legs beneath me and stared off the balcony of my new apartment. It wasn’t the view I’d imagined when I’d walked through the model; it had been lit up with the dancing lights of the San Francisco skyline. Clearly, there was a huge difference in view quality between the quoted price ranges of twenty-five hundred dollars all the way up to seventy-five hundred dollars a month. I, of course, had landed a studio at the absolute lowest price point, which then in turn landed me with a view of the brick building next to me and another brick dividing wall between me and my neighbor that was at least seven feet high, which blocked even more.
But I had a home that was all my own.
I’d even found furniture at a store that was going out of business and selling off their showroom. I was ecstatic to get a modern gunmetal-gray couch with a matching love seat complete with end tables, decorative lamps, and even an oddly attractive large oval bowl that held hollow teal balls on the coffee table. I’d bought the entire set. It had wiped out a good chunk of my savings, but I’d sold off Heath’s mismatched hand-me-down furniture before I left Atlanta. So I had some cushion for my new cushions.
Besides, I was an adult now. I deserved adult furniture. I wasn’t sure how hollow teal balls in a weird bowl fit into that category, but it’d felt right in the moment. After giving me the runaround for over a week, the movers were set to deliver the rest of my stuff in a few days. My back had never been more excited. Turns out, adult couches were hell to sleep on. Go figure.
I sucked in a deep breath, staring at my brick wall view, wondering if I was allowed to decorate it for Christmas, when my phone rang. Assuming it was Heath again, I let out a groan, but Melanie’s name flashed on the screen instead.
Of all my sisters, Mel and I were the closest. She was only three years older than I was, so age played a big role in that, but she was also batshit crazy in the best possible way. While not necessarily the person I would seek out for advice on a new relationship, life choice, or…well, anything, she was the perfect person to talk to when I was bored out of my fucking mind and debating decorating a brick wall for Christmas in the middle of July.
