Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“Yes, but from Manchester, from the press, not from people who are supposed to care about you. Supposed to support you.”
“Jo, let’s be honest here, though.” Cynicism bends my lips into a jaded curve. “Half that board has been wanting to get rid of me since the Playboy spread. You and Walsh barely held them off the last time. This was a final straw for many of them, and they took this opportunity to do something they’ve wanted to do in the past. Get rid of me.”
Her silence on the other ends confirms that I’m right.
“Sofie, there’s one more thing.” Jo clears her throat. “There will be an official statement released tomorrow about it.”
I close my eyes, one hand cupping the side of my face. It’s standard procedure. I know that, but it feels like a public betrayal. First my parents don’t support or believe me, and now the foundation I’ve given years of service to publicly distances itself from me. Kyle’s camp will have a field day with this. Everyone will interpret this as more doubt cast on my claims and character. Disappointment balloons in my chest until there’s no room for breath.
“Hey, Jo. I’m gonna go.”
“Sofie, please. I just want—”
“It’s okay.” I swipe furiously at the tears scalding my cheeks. “I, um, just have a meeting, and need to go. Do what you have to do. I understand.”
“Sofie, I hope—”
“I still want to donate the centerpieces, okay? I’ll have Stil contact your office. Give Cam and the kids my best.”
“Sof, if you could just—”
I disconnect. Not just the call, but from Jo. From the world that keeps battering me. The skin that has been thickening hardens to a crust over my heart, protecting and insulating me from any more hurt. Arrows seem to be flying from every direction, even from people and places I didn’t anticipate. It makes me feel like I can’t trust anyone. Like I can’t depend on anyone. I know it’s not true. I have Stil. I have Karen and Shaunti. My team.
But I want Trevor. I’ve known everyone else longer than him, but he’s the only one I want right now.
“Stil!” I yell, knowing my voice will carry to the outer office. “Sketches!”
Stil walks in holding a leather portfolio.
“How was Jo?” she asks. “Everything going smoothly for the benefit?”
“Um, yeah, about that.” I take the sketches from her. “Nix the gown from François. I won’t be needing it.”
“Okay. You have another designer in mind? Or already have something to wear?”
“No, I won’t, uh, I won’t be attending.” I glance up from the latest sketches for the website design. “But could we get Emily to design centerpieces for it? Connect her with Jo Walsh. I’ll foot the bill.”
“Back up.” Stil leans her hip against my desk. “You’re not going? I thought you were really looking forward to it.”
I may as well just tell her. They’re releasing the statement tomorrow, but it’s still hard for me to coax the words from my mouth.
“I’m not working with the foundation anymore.” I trail a finger over one sketch for Emily’s section of the site. “She did a good job with these. Sign off on them for me.”
Stil jerks the sketches off the desk, her eyes honed in on my face.
“Not working with the foundation?” she asks. “But you love it. Why…what?”
I run one hand over my face and tip my head back, a weary breath barely making it past my lips.
“Long story short, they don’t want all the shit surrounding me right now to distract from the mission and the objectives, so they are suspending my responsibilities. They’re releasing a statement tomorrow.”
“Jo sanctioned this?” Anger shakes Stil’s voice. “How could she do this?”
“It’s not Jo’s fault.” I almost choke on a laugh. “She fought it as hard as she could, but she was outnumbered. Walsh wasn’t there for the vote, but he barely won the last battle when I posed for Playboy.”
“Can’t a girl pose nude and still want to do good in the world?” Stil slams the sketches down on the desk. “What the hell is wrong with people? I mean, you come forward to say don’t vote for this douche bag who rapes women, and everyone makes you out to be the bad guy?”
“Stil, I know, but it is what it is.”
“No, it is not fucking what it is, Sof!” She starts pacing and shaking her head. Basically working herself up into a lather. “I’m so disappointed in people. So mad about how we vilify victims, especially women. How you’re the one who was hurt, and yet find yourself on the defensive. I just want to punch the world right now for how you’re being treated.”
“Hey, slugger.” I find a smile somewhere, as much for her as for me. “Stop pacing before you pull something. Sit.”
I slide the salad toward her.