“Just take the severance package.”
“You can’t buy me off,” she said as her voice turned into a fighting tone. “You can’t just ignore the months we spent together.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“Jake, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” I demanded.
“Throwing tantrums when things don’t go your way.”
“Excuse me?” I said, livid at her tone and self-righteousness. “But I believe you’re the one in the wrong here. So any tantrums I might throw are completely justified.”
“I know what I did was wrong—”
“Obviously, you don’t,” I cut in. “Now I suggest you take the package and get out of my life. And if you want to sue me for wrongful termination, and then go ahead.”
With that, I hung up and threw my phone across the bed. When I heard it ring again a second later, I knew it was Kristen, but I was done talking. She had made a choice, and now I had made my decision.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kristen
I didn’t know what to do. My head was in chaos, and the worst part of it was that I didn’t know how to make anything better. I had heard the hurt in Jake’s voice when he had called me earlier—it had dripped with anger, and the sting of betrayal, and I knew that I deserved his outrage.
Instead of trying to show him that I was truly sorry, however, I had misspoken and made him even angrier. To make matters worse, he had essentially fired me, which meant I couldn’t even get through to him at work. I had a feeling that showing up at the office would be a bad idea, so I wasn’t even going to attempt it. Which left me with no options.
My mind reeled back over the last morning when Isabelle had walked into Jake’s living room and come face to face with me. I still got goosebumps when I thought of it. But the memory I replayed most often was when Isabelle had caught up with me in front of the elevators.
My mother and I had always had a rocky relationship, which had only worsened in my teenage years. But regardless, I never thought she’s stoop this low. I never thought she’d try to sabotage me in this way, and I had to juggle my guilt with my own hurt. I paced across my living room, ignoring calls from Melody because I wasn’t ready to relate the whole story just yet. But I did want to scream and yell and rant, and the only person I wanted to aim that anger at was the person who had set this whole thing in motion.
I didn’t even stop to convince myself against calling her. I dialed her number fast and waited to hear her voice.
“Hello, Kristen,” Mom said, sounding completely unaffected.
“How could you?” I demanded.
“How could I what?” she asked innocently. I marveled at her tone and her acting ability.
“You’re kidding, right?” I spat. “You know exactly what you did.”
“Have you just called to yell at me, Kristen? Because I would—”
“You called Isabelle,” I interrupted. “You told her about me.”
“She came into town, did she?” Mom asked casually, as though my anger barely fazed her.
“How could you do this to me?” I demanded shakily.
“I was trying to help you,” she had the gall to say.
“Are you high?”
“You were being dishonest—”
“That’s rich coming from you,” I said. “Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?”
“I never claimed to be the Good Samaritan that you did.”