Page 95 of Worth the Try
My stomach drops. “Is it that bad?”
She fidgets, and instead of answering, she asks, “Where’s Rosalie?”
“Next door. Ansel called and asked Sharon if she minded keeping her a few more hours.”
“I need you to fix it!” Ansel’s voice rises from where he paces in the kitchen behind us. “That’s what I pay you for.” A pause. “Then find me someone who can.” The unmistakable sound of a phone clattering to the counter. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,fuck!”
My eyes go wide as they meet Kari’s.
But hers only narrow as she squares her shoulders. “Time for me to do my job.”
Then it hits me like a physical blow to the chest. She’s not here for me. She wasnevercoming over for me. She’s here for Ansel. For the Granite.
“Oh,” I whisper.
Her expression is full of sorrow as she steps forward to pull me into another crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, Elodie.”
A knock at the door has her pulling away and tucking my hair behind my ears. “That’s going to be Lewis,” she says, her voice turning businesslike. “I’ve got to handle this.”
Thisbeing the mess that I’ve made.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I swallow and shrug. “Do I have a choice?” I mumble as she turns to open the door.
A giant hulk of a Black man stands there, and he is easily the biggest human I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s immaculatelydressed in dark jeans and a cream knit short-sleeved sweater, with gleaming retro Air Jordans that I’d wager he spent a pretty penny on. His fade and beard are sharp, not a line out of place, and the diamond studs in his ears are probably two carats each. “Kari Edwards,” he says, his voice a soothing rumble against my frazzled nerves. “Should have figured I’d see you here.”
Kari gestures for him to come in, her smile bright but polite. “You know you’ll find me where the scandal is. Have you met Elodie Cole?”
Lewis turns his attention to me and extends a hand. It’s warm and calloused, and my eyes snag on the Super Bowl championship ring he wears. “Nice to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
I try to smile back, but it’s forced. Then I realize with horror that I’m still in my pajamas. “I…should go get dressed.”
“Lewis.” Even Ansel’s voice is different as he comes up behind me. “Come on into the kitchen. I’ve got some of that matcha shit you love.”
“Always knowing the way to my heart,” Lewis jokes.
Ansel barely looks at me as he steps to the side and waves Lewis toward the kitchen. Kari follows, throwing me a wince as she goes.
All I can do is watch them file off, ready to tackle a problem I created.
“I’ve got a list of talking points,” Kari says, her voice fading as they move into the kitchen.
“And I’ve already lined up some calls to your sponsors,” Lewis says. “I don’t think they’ll be too worried about this, but we can’t be too careful.”
I swallow, fighting back a fresh round of frustrated tears. The thing is, thisisn’tmy fault. Not really. Sure, I lit into Lauren—because she deserved it. But she’s the one who baited me. Whotook my words and spliced them into the hateful vitriol making its way across the internet. And now I’m the one taking the fall.
But it’s worse than that. Because why is Lauren even doing this, if not to get back at Ansel? If she uses this as the way to somehow force Ansel to share custody, or worse?
What have I done?
I head upstairs and take a long shower, dressing in my comfiest clothes and wondering if I need to start packing up.
No.
He loves me.
But am I enough?
