Page 51 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 51

S tanding at her bathroom mirror, Gretta stuck a pin in her elaborately coiled hair. She turned to the side and made an adjustment, then finger-curled the tendrils at her temples.

Her black silk blouse hung slightly askew. She straightened it, tugging the neckline down until the tiniest bit of cleavage peeked out. She pinched her pasty cheeks, and when her flush didn’t last, she dug out a long-expired pot of rouge and smudged it on.

It was her first day at the office, so to speak. Naturally, she wanted to look her best.

She already had the jitters, but she went to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee. The past two weeks, she’d been sleeping like shit. She’d been working herself to exhaustion, but when she closed her eyes at night, she saw Ansel in a swanky hotel, fucking random women who actually knew how to give blow jobs. She’d come to realize he only said those things out of hurt, but that didn’t stop her from picturing them. And eventually, it would become reality.

Nighttime was also when she asked herself if she’d made the right decision. She knew she had; there’d been no other decision to make. But she still asked because she felt physically sick from missing him. She hadn’t seen him once since she slammed the door in his face. A hundred times, she’d almost charged out to go to him and throw Nat’s rules in the gutter.

Then she’d remember she had no idea where he was staying.

Then she’d remind herself what was more important.

A knock came, and she sloshed coffee on her hand. At the door, she asked, “Who’s there?”

“Philip.”

She groaned at the ceiling. Of all the fucking days.

Gretta ripped the door open, staying behind it. “What?”

“Nice to see you, too.” He lowered his hood. “Can I come in?”

“What do you want?”

“I came to check on you. No one’s heard from you in days.”

“I’ve been working. As you can see, I’m fine.”

Philip nudged an empty brandy bottle with his toe, sending it deeper into her apartment. Flushing, she kicked it under the couch.

“I’m alive, then,” she said. “Good enough?”

“Just let me in, pixie.”

She considered shooing him off, but he’d be easier to get rid of if she let him satisfy this little errand. She opened the door wider, and her neck warmed as he stepped over piles of books and clothing.

Her place was a touch less tidy than usual. The night after she last saw Ansel, she got drunk and felt inspired to reorganize her apartment. She’d passed out before finishing, and the inspiration never returned.

“Whoa,” Philip said as she came out from behind the door. “Where’s the wedding?”

Her neck got warmer. “First day at the lab. I thought I should look presentable. Speaking of, I’d appreciate it if you made this quick.”

He helped himself to coffee and sat at her table. Instead of drinking it, he turned the mug in circles.

“I came to apologize,” he said, tapping the ceramic. “For the way I handled things on the train and in Antrelle. I should have been more tactful.”

Gretta nearly over-poured her cup. Philip had been giving her shit for years, and he’d never apologized before. Not to anyone, that she knew of.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sitting across from him.

He brushed a hand through his honey-brown hair. “Nat asked me to work on my way with people. You aren’t the only one he’s been riding.”

“Whipping his staff into shape before the big election. He’s probably terrified one of us will embarrass him.”

“He’s wound tighter than a priestess’s asshole.”

Gretta toasted him and sipped her coffee.

“Seriously, though,” he said. “Are you really fine? You haven’t been yourself since the swamp. Hell, you talked Nat into handing your captor a small country’s national budget.”

She’d done a lot more than that with her captor, so she couldn’t really argue. And a month ago, she would have told Philip to shove his apology up his ass.

“Maybe I’m changing,” she said wryly. “Late bloomer. And don’t worry about the train, I was an asshole, too.”

“Okay, now I’m truly worried.”

“Drop it, or I’ll tell Nat we got into a fist fight.”

The unscarred side of his mouth kicked up, and he relaxed in his chair. “Alright, I have a question for you. What’s this thing with you and the dust thief? You have to admit it’s peculiar.”

Usually, Philip was the last person Gretta would confide in, but he was a vault when it came to secrets. She hadn’t talked to anyone since Ansel left, and she was on the brink of exploding from it.

“We used to know each other,” she said. “We were close friends as kids. It’s a long story, but after I got over what he did, I may have…”

“What? Developed feelings?”

She nodded, waiting for Philip to crack a joke.

He merely sipped his coffee. “Is that why Nat came up with those unorthodox contract terms?”

“Yes. I swear to god, he still thinks I’m seventeen years old.”

“You realize he’s so hard on you because he likes you best, right?”

“I do not realize that. And if he really cared about me, he’d let me manage my own life. He’d never pull this shit with you.”

“You might be surprised.” Philip sobered and set his coffee aside. “Here’s the thing. I may have framed it poorly on the train, but the fact remains—we’ve all been concerned for a while. Your drinking, your isolation, your impulsiveness. It isn’t healthy.”

A snappy comment sprang to Gretta’s lips, but it was more from habit than anger. Hadn’t Brand said the exact same thing?

“I don’t know what to say,” she sighed. “Other than, I’ve been doing better.”

At least, she’d been trying to. Talking to Ansel had helped. Maybe today she’d ask him about taking that lunch break together?

A long one. Hours . Technically, they’d be at work.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Philip said. “And I suppose you do seem less…you today.”

“Gosh, thanks.”

Philip smiled. “You know, it’s not too late to tell Nat what he can do with his contracts. I wouldn’t mind seeing someone check him for once.”

“I can’t. He’d take Ansel’s money back, plus find some other way to fuck with him.”

“Ah. It does seem the dust thief has been enjoying the trappings of wealth.”

Gretta perked up. “What do you mean? Have you seen him?”

“Once, at Nat’s office.”

“How did he look?”

“He was wearing a fucking suit.”

Ansel was tooling around town in a suit ? When he eventually replaced her, how many minutes would it take him to find someone? Ten? Twenty if he was choosy?

“Did he seem…happy?”

“I have no idea, Gretta. I don’t know the man, and I certainly didn’t ask. He looked busy.”

He did have a ton on his plate. Was he getting sleep? Eating? Maybe Nat wouldn’t notice if she popped by Ansel’s once in a while, just to make sure the investment was taking care of himself?

Except, she still had no idea where he lived. And she knew she wouldn’t stop at once in a while. And Nat would definitely find a way to notice.

“I have a question, too,” she said, ready for a subject change. “If Nat wins the election, are you going to take chief of staff?”

“Fuck no.” Philip absently rubbed his scars. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“I actually think you’d be pretty good at it.” He had a way of making things happen without people realizing who pulled the strings, and these days, Nat liked to keep his hands clean.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I’ve got other things on my mind.”

She didn’t ask what. He kept his own secrets as tightly as he did others’.

“How’s Brand?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him since he got back. Is he still mad at me?”

Philip snorted. “He’s been a goddamn ray of sunshine. I think he’s getting laid, regularly and well.”

“Really? You think he has a girlfriend?”

“Maybe. He won’t talk about it.”

Gretta would have to pry it out of him when they eventually got that coffee together. Whoever the mystery woman was, she’d better be good to him, or Gretta would have something to say.

“Anyway.” Philip slapped his palms on the table. “I have shit to do. Thanks for the coffee.” He started for the door, then turned to her. “You know…Nat can be an overbearing dick, but he really does care about you. We, ah. Both do.”

If the conversation got any sappier, Gretta was going to gag.

“Okay,” she said. “We’re one big fucked up family. Now get the hell out.”

Philip pulled up his hood. “My regards to your dust thief.”

Gretta rolled her eyes and shut the door behind him.