Thursday morning I awake alone. Chase held me through the night but left before I woke. The alarm clock reads eight a.m. I can’t believe I slept through him leaving. The guilt and fear of the last couple days hits me like a sledgehammer. He’s going to meet with the Chief Executive Officer of the Safe Haven Foundation, David Hawthorne, today. I cringe and realize there’s nothing I can do but wait to hear from him. I can’t imagine what he’s going to say or do or how he’s going to change Ms. Peterson’s ultimatum.

I walk into the kitchen and see a full pot of coffee made. It’s official. The man is a keeper. Chuckling, I pour myself a cup and pull out my vanilla creamer. I pour a heavy dose in my cup. It’s not my beloved vanilla latte, but it’s as close as I can get at home. I notice a note by the phone on the counter.

Babycakes.

I roll my eyes. I haven’t decided if I’m going to accept this new term of endearment he’s testing. I’ll probably force him to cut it from his vocabulary someday. Right now, it sounds lovely as I imagine it rolling off the man’s tongue when his tone is low and sexy. Yeah, maybe I’m okay with it. I continue reading.

Last night was…memorable. Don’t worry about today. I will take care of the problem.

Not exactly a love note, but it’s definitely Chase. I decide I can’t wait around all day and do nothing. First order of business will be to text the girls and catch up with Phil. Instead of sending individual texts, I take the lazy man’s route and mass text all three of them.

That should stave off the wolves for the time being. I know they’re all worried about me. They’ll be relieved Chase and I worked it out. My phone pings and I look down at the display. Maria has responded.

I laugh out loud! Perra? Oh yeah, bitch or slut in Spanish. I snort as I gulp my coffee. Mmm, so good. I distinctly recall a couple times last night where the headboard may have banged against the wall. My cheeks flame. As I set the phone down, another loud ping makes me pick it back up.

Bree’s message makes me gag a little. It’s like hearing about your brother having sex. Then it dawns on me that I haven’t even talked to Phillip about his rendezvous with Bree this past weekend. I’m a crummy best friend. I dial his number, knowing he’s at work but hoping he can take a quick break. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey you, what’s up?”

I smile. He truly has been the only man who’s been there for me throughout the years and hasn’t hurt me. I hope against all hope that Chase turns out to be just as good, with the added benefits. I cross my legs and am instantly reminded of the many benefits I experienced last night.

“Do you have a few minutes?” I ask.

“Sure, I was heading to get a new cup of coffee anyway. What’s going on, beautiful?”

Each and every time I see Phillip, I’m happier. He’s just one of those people who gives you a sense of familiarity and peace. A calming nature. Over the next few minutes, I give him the abridged version of the past couple of days.

“I knew you were playing with fire, dating the boss, Gigi,” he reminds me.

Leave it to a man to rub it in my face.

“Are you seriously playing the I-told-you-so card?” We laugh at my question.

“No, no, I’m not. It was just a risky move. So what’s going to happen now?”

His concern is genuine, and I can tell he’s worried. He knows how much this job means to me.

“I’m supposed to give them my answer tomorrow, but Chase is meeting the CEO today. He assured me he’d take care of it. I don’t know what that means though. It’s driving me crazy.” I sigh into the phone and plop my head back on the couch. “So tell me, how was your date with Bree on Sunday?”

He laughs. “I see the real reason for your call. You’re fishing. She didn’t put you up to this did she?” he asks nervously.

“No, but I wouldn’t tell you anyway.” I laugh. “So how was it?”

After a pause, he says, “It was… It was wonderful, Gigi. She’s wonderful, and beautiful, and funny, and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” I cut him off. “She’s wonderful.” I hold the phone closer to my ear to hear his happiness. I would like nothing more than to reach through the phone and hug him, but that will have to wait until I see him in person. “She said you asked her out this weekend.” I allow him to fill in the rest. I want to hear his excitement.

“I did. I’m taking her to dinner and then to see a local jazz band. Do you think that’s a good idea? Shit, maybe she’d like a fancy dinner and a show or a play?” I can tell he’s starting to worry. “Gigi, it’s been a long time since I’ve dated. Nothing since Angela.” He releases a long breath of air.

“Phil, it’s okay. Bree is really chill. She will love a nice dinner and a cool jazz band. She’s into you. It’s going to be fine. Have a good time and don’t over think it.” It’s the best advice I can give him, or myself for that matter.

“I am excited. She’s incredibly hot, and her body is smokin’ hot,” he says, sounding like a player.

“And the male chauvinist pig comes out. Was wondering when her attributes would make you stupid.”

He laughs out loud and I join him.

“Though, I agree with you. She’s got a pretty rockin’ body!” My phone beeps, signaling another call. “Okay, Phil, I want a full report on Sunday! I gotta go. I have another call.” We both hang up and I hit the “switch” button.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Miss Callahan, this is Dana, Mr. Davis’s personal assistant.”

“Hello, Dana. I forgot to thank you for the clothes! They were incredible by the way. Though I would have been fine with clothes from Target,” I tell her happily.

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep Target in mind, though I don’t think Mr. Davis would approve,” she warns. “Mr. Davis is sending Jack to pick you up in an hour. That’s the reason I called. He wants you to be ready for a meeting with the CEO at Safe Haven at eleven a.m.”

I lose my voice, suddenly overtaken by fear. “Did he say why?” I croak, a new bout of anxiety slithering along my subconscious.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t.”

“Okay, thank you, Dana. I’ll be ready.” I sigh loudly and press my fingers to my temples trying to relieve the tension that just cropped up.

“Gillian? May I call you Gillian?” she asks.

“You can call me Gigi, if you’d like. Everyone does.”

“Gigi, I just wanted to say…” Her voice softens, becoming gentler somehow. “I just wanted to tell you that Chase has been really happy these past three weeks. I know that’s because of you. And well, I just—” She takes a breath and quickly says, “I wanted to say thank you.”

I did not expect that. My throat clogs with an emotional lump. “He makes me happy too, Dana. Thanks again for the clothing. You have impeccable taste.”

“The car will pick you up at ten thirty a.m. Miss Callahan, please be ready. Chase hates tardiness.” She returns to her official duties. She’s comfortable speaking frankly with me about her boss’s happiness, but reverts back to professional etiquette.

Right then and there I decide I’m going to make an effort to getting to know his personal assistant. She seems genuinely happy that Chase has been in a better mood. In girl terms, her making a point to tell me would make her trustworthy, but I’ve been burned too many times by wicked women who claim to be my friends to open my heart and give her even temporary BFF status.

I remove Dana from my mind and choose a sharp dark charcoal gray suit. I pair it with a lavender button-up dress shirt. A chunky silver necklace and silver hoops tame the fierce look. I pull out my favorite pair of gray suede four-inch heels. Simple but sexy. The entire situation has me not knowing what to expect. It’s not often that I meet with Mr. Hawthorne and never because I’ve done something unfavorable. Is he going to fire me? Shit! I’m going to be fired and have to clear out my desk before the weekend.

No, Chase said he’d deal with it, and I have to trust him. Believe in him. I just don’t have a clue what the hell it means for me and my role at Safe Haven.

I grab my purse and check my appearance in the mirror by the door. My hair is pinned back into a neat bun with bangs sweeping across my forehead. It will have to do. I brush on a simple peachy lip gloss and head to the front of the building.

Jack is there waiting for me. He opens the car door as I walk toward him.

“Morning, Jack.”

“Good morning, Miss Callahan,” he says and smiles.

Wow! The linebacker actually smiled at me. Maybe I’m breaking down his defenses after all. Then again, maybe he got laid last night. I can’t be positive that his niceties are a direct result of my presence.

In twenty minutes, we’re in front of the Safe Haven Foundation. I take a deep breath and exit the car, taking Jack’s hand. “Thank you. Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it,” Jack says with confidence.

I furrow my eyebrows at him but walk confidently toward reception.

Once I enter the building, the receptionist immediately whisks me to Mr. Hawthorne’s office. As I near the large double doors to his office, I distinctly hear laughing from the other side.

The receptionist knocks and pops her head in. “Miss Callahan is here to see you,” she says.

“Send her in. Thank you.”

She opens the door wide, and I walk in. Sitting at a large oak desk is the foundation leader, Mr. David Hawthorne. He’s a middle-aged man, tall, thin, and tanned. I hear from the rumor mill that he golfs regularly with board members, vendors, business affiliates, and the like, which is probably where that tanned skin was earned. The word is that as CEO, he’s fair and a solid leader. Short brown hair caps his head, and a beard dots a square jaw. He’s not unattractive, but he isn’t a heartbreaker either. He’s nice looking and smiles when I enter.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Callahan. I believe you’ve met our board chairman, Mr. Davis.”

I turn to my left and realize Chase is sitting on a brown leather couch at the back of the room. He grins at my surprise, taking in my body from head to toe and back again. I warm and close my eyes to compose myself.

“Good morning, Gillian.” He smiles and gestures to the seat next to him.

I walk over and take the seat offered next to him, leaving plenty of space between our bodies. I cross my feet at the ankles and sit straight and tall, waiting for Mr. Hawthorne to address me. If I’m going to lose my job, I’m going to do it with dignity, though I don’t know why he’d need Chase here to witness it.

Mr. Hawthorne comes around his desk and takes a seat across from us. We’re separated by a glass coffee table with magazines splayed across it in a crescent. “Miss Callahan, Chase brought my attention to an issue that came about earlier this week.”

I nod but stay silent.

“I understand that our director of HR, Ms. Peterson, notified you that the foundation was aware of your personal relationship with Mr. Davis.”

“Yes, sir. She did.”

“As I understand it, you were given an ultimatum to either end your personal relationship with Mr. Davis, quit your job, or you’d be let go. Is that correct?” he asks.

Here it comes. He’s going to fire me. I stiffen further and my eyes fill with unshed tears, but I hold them back. Chase sees my discomfort and grabs my hand, holding it close to him. I don’t look at him but appreciate the small gesture.

“It is.” The words come out as a whisper.

“After speaking with Mr. Davis this morning, I’ve done some digging, met with Mr. Jefferson, looked into your campaign results, your charitable giving ROI over the past two years, and am honestly amazed that this wasn’t brought to my attention sooner. You are an incredible asset to the foundation.”

Asset is a good thing, my subconscious reminds me. That’s the opposite of deficit or defaming or negative.

“I can assure you, your position at Safe Haven Foundation is stable. As a matter of fact, I want to promote you to Associate Director of Contributions.” He smiles widely.

Chase squeezes my hand.

I open my mouth in shock. I’m having trouble making sense of what he just told me. A moment ago, I was sure I was going to be fired, and now I’m being promoted?

“Ms. Peterson has been relieved of her duties. Threatening staff for personal relationships is not how I run my ship. Your relationship with Mr. Davis might be seen as preferential treatment, and some may question your promotion, but you’ll handle that in a professional manner, I’m sure, and impress naysayers with your work.”

I nod like a bobblehead sitting on the dashboard of a Pinto.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. I hadn’t expected our meeting to go this way. I will work hard to grow the department and increase our charitable revenue to the best of my ability.”

“I’m confident you will. Please take the rest of the week off as a bit of a thanks for handling this misstep with grace,” he finishes. “I look forward to working more with you in the future now that I’ve discovered your abilities.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Hawthorne.”

I’m reeling from what he’s told me. He fired Ms. Peterson? He’s promoting me? This is far too much information to process.

“See you on the course next month?” Chase stands.

“You know it.” Hawthorne grins and claps Chase on the back. “Give me an opportunity to win some of my money back!”

“Not a chance, Dave.” Chase grins and shakes Hawthorne’s hand.

Chase and I make our way out of the building. Jack is there with the car door open. I slip in and sit in silence, completely stunned.

Chase grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. “I told you I’d take care of the problem.”

My heart sinks. He has a smug, egotistical look on his beautiful face.

“What did you tell him?” I ask.

“I told him about our relationship, what that hag Peterson did to you. I told him I wouldn’t stand for it. No woman of mine is going to be given an ultimatum to choose between me and her job.”

I look at him, shaking my head. He doesn’t notice that every word he speaks is putting nail after nail into the coffin of our relationship.

“I threatened to walk and take my money with me.” He smiles from ear to ear.

The tears I was holding back fall down my cheeks. “Stop the car, Jack,” I say loud enough for Jack to hear.

Chase looks at me, and Jack peers at me through the review mirror but doesn’t stop.

My insides heat to boiling, fueled by my anger. “Stop the fucking car now!” I scream and slam my fist on the leather, ensuring I’ve gotten Jack’s notice. Traitorous tears run down my face, and I wipe them with the sleeve of my suit jacket. Screw it! I’ll get the damn thing dry-cleaned.

“Gillian, what the fuck?” Chase says angrily.

Jack finally pulls to the curb, and I bolt from the car. I have no idea where I’m headed, but I stomp off down the busy San Francisco street on a mission with no destination.

Chase’s footfalls slam against the concrete as he tries to catch me. “Gillian, stop now!” he yells forcefully.

I don’t care. He can’t control me. I’m not his property. No one owns me. I walk as fast as my four-inch heels will take me. As I’m about to round a corner, I hear the one phrase that stops me in my tracks.

“You promised you wouldn’t run!” he yells.

I close my eyes, count to three, and turn around. “I cannot believe you did that to me,” I say through my teeth.

“What the hell are you talking about? I just saved your ass from losing your job!”

He doesn’t understand, so I’m going to spell it out for him. “No, you did the same thing they did to me. You gave them an ultimatum.” I put my hands up to my forehead, wishing away the anger, the frustration, the heartache. “Take care of the little woman, or I walk with all my money! You knew he would cave and do whatever you wanted!” I can barely contain the helplessness controlling my emotions.

“I don’t understand the problem. You didn’t want to lose your job. I didn’t want to lose you. Problem solved and you got a promotion.” He brings his hand to my cheek, to swipe his thumb along the skin.

Like lightening striking, I slap his hand away. He steps back and away as if burned.

“I didn’t earn the promotion. Oh, wait, but I did… On. My. Fucking. Back!” I roar loud enough for passersby to take a wide circle around our bodies.

He stares at me, clearly clueless as to why I’m angry.

“God damn it, Chase! I can’t talk to you right now. I am so disappointed I can hardly breathe.” I hiccup and hold back the sob that wants to tear through me. “Leave me alone.” I turn and start walking again.

I see a cab ten feet away, and I rush to it and jump in. I give the cab driver the address and try Bree’s yoga method of taking deep calming breaths. In one nostril, out the other then reverse it. It starts to work. Numbness settles over me instead. The cab driver makes it to my destination. I get out and enter the brick building.

Dodging people in varying costumes, I make my way to the back of the theatre. Everyone has seen me before and knows I’m stopping in to see Kat or Maria. I head to the very back where Kat’s design closet is. It’s actually a large room, but it’s filled with costume upon costume, making you feel like you’re in a big closet.

Apparently the gods have given me a respite because Kat comes into view. She’s down on her knees, tailoring an outfit. Inside the outfit is Maria. I offer thanks to the almighty and enter so I can be seen. They look up and can tell something’s wrong. It’s not their first day being my soul sisters.

Kat looks down at her watch. “Would you look at that? Lunchtime. Ria? You hungry?”

Maria stares at my solemn face. “Famished. Gigi?”

“Starving,” I whisper, my voice chock-full of unshed tears, a few octaves lower than normal.

Kat messes with her cell phone while Maria removes the shredded outfit. It’s some type of “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” number, and Maria is covered in swaths of deep red fabric that look like they’ve been stretched and ripped by a cat’s claws.

“Bree will meet us at our favorite place. She doesn’t have another class until this evening,” Kat says.

“I love you guys,” I say so seriously they both look up.

“We know, Gigi. Te amo. Now let’s go and deal with this shit.”

Ria’s riled. This is the second time in as many days I’ve been in hysterics, and both of them involve Chase. Her useless men theory has some serious merit.

* * *

We arrive at the little hole in the wall Irish pub. It’s relatively quiet since it’s after the lunch rush. The tables are all made of stones with Celtic symbols prominently encased in the center. The table we always try to sit at has a huge trinity symbol with a circle of protection around it just like our tattoos. Our little group has adopted that single symbol to represent our undying bond and sisterhood. The Celtic trinity can mean different things. It can represent the body, mind, and soul, but in religious circles it represents the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. For us, it represents our past, our present, and our future. We will always have a past, our present will consistently be linked to one another, and our future is limitless as long as we have each other.

Bree has arrived and ordered four Poor Man stouts, a mixture of Guinness and hard raspberry or apple cider. Since our drinks are dark chocolate in color on bottom and bubbly pink on top, I assume it’s the raspberry cider.

I slide in next to her.

She grabs my face, searches my eyes, and presses her forehead to mine. “Gigi, boys that make girls cry suck!”

I nod against her forehead.

She kisses my cheeks and wipes my tears. “You’ve been mad at men before, had shitty men hurt you before, and you have never cried like this,” she continues.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Kat says, as if she just asked something as simple as “How was your day?”

I look into each of their eyes. Brown, blue, and gray, the colors that help breathe life into my world. I can lie to myself over and over, saying the feelings aren’t there, that they don’t matter. I am incapable of lying to them.

In a horrible moment of honesty and bubbling anger, I answer on a screech, “I do, damn it!” I groan and grip my pint glass so hard I wish it would break. “I don’t want to, but I do!” I press two fingers from each hand into my temples, but the pain doesn’t go away. It’s still there. He’s still there, his sad face broken and apologetic as I screamed at him on the street…still there taunting me.

“Why don’t you want to, honey?” Bree asks. “You haven’t been in love in a long time. Is it because that big meanie makes you cry? I’ll kick the good-looking bastard’s ass from here to next week if you’d like!” She’d do it too. She will open up a can of whoop ass on him, and he will be powerless to stop the tiny firecracker.

“That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to be in amor with him, Bree,” Ria responds for me. “The last man she loved hurt her…muy mal, really bad.” Her Spanish accent comes out when she’s emotional.

She knows exactly how I feel. I know it’s how she feels with Tom.

“It gets worse, guys. He gave the CEO of the foundation an ultimatum. Fix the situation with me, or he walks as chairman…along with his forty million dollar annual donation. That money pays half of our operating costs.” I take a huge gulp of my Poor Man and let the frothy drink soothe frayed nerves.

“Whoa. He did that?” Kat says, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“It gets worse. The HR director was fired, and I was promoted to associate director of contributions.” I sneer and take a slug of my drink.

“Am I missing something, Gigi? That sounds pretty fucking fantastic. Congratulations!” says Bree.

“I didn’t get the promotion because I deserved it. I got it because of Chase’s influence. He even said something to the effect, ‘no woman of mine is going to be given ultimatums and be told to choose between me and her job,’ blah, blah, blah,” I say, using my best impression of a male voice.

“Wow, he’s in love with you.”

I twist my head toward Kat and shake off what she just said. “Excuse me, Kat. Where the hell did you get he’s in love with me?’” I take a breath and groan. “I basically got a promotion because I’m fucking the boss like a common whore!”

“Jesús Cristo, cara bonita! That’s such bullshit. You deserved that promotion. You’ve been bringing them tons of dinero over the past two years!” Maria exclaims.

“But the timing is no coincidence. The boss did it to get into Chase’s good graces.” I slump, my shoulders sagging low. I feel weighted to my seat. The heaviness of what happened with Chase, of how we fought, is crippling.

“So what if he did. You still deserve it. You get the chance to prove it to everyone, including yourself and Chase!” Bree argues.

I go several more rounds of “woe is Gillian” and come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to talk to Chase. My cell phone pings, and I pull it out of my purse. It’s Chase. I’m a little surprised it took him this long to contact me.

That’s the closest thing to an “I love you” I’m going to get right now. I don’t even know if I want him to profess his undying love for me yet. It’s only been a few weeks. The butterflies in my stomach and ache in my heart can only be mended by an egotistical, wealthy, over protective, controlling, breathtakingly good-looking bastard. And he’s all mine.

I kiss and hug each friend as if it’s the last time I will see her. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have them to walk me away from life’s ledges.

We share a round of “besos,” and I go hail a taxi. The driver asks me where to.

There’s only one place I need to be right now. “Davis Industries, please.”