Page 69 of The Good Girl Effect

Matis was the original owner of L’Amour, which he opened nearly thirty years ago in his early twenties. And although he gifted the club to us just one year ago, he’s stuck around as a bit of a mentor for the rest of us.

And judging by the very disappointed look on his face, he’s not happy. I don’t blame him.

“What happened?” he asks in his thick French accent. “Capacity should only be three fifty, and I hear you were over five hundred.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Julian’s jaw clench. He won’t admit it was his fault, and at this point, there’s no reason to throw blame.

“You know better,” Matis says, pointing his glare at me.

“It was a long night, Matis. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” I try to walk past him, and he places a hand on my chest, shoving me back.

“No, we talk about it now.”

Exhausted, Julian and I collapse into the chairs of a nearby table. Matis pours himself a drink and comes over at a leisurely pace. When he sits across from us, it’s as if I’m about to be scolded like a child, and I hate it.

“Shouldn’t we call in the others?” Julian asks.

Matis takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “You two are the problem,” he says flatly.

“Us?” Julian asks.

I don’t bother responding because I know he’s right.

“You two were supposed to be the leaders. Partners, remember? But you make terrible partners.”

“We don’t get along,” I reply coolly.

“You don’t have to get along. You don’t have to even like each other. Because it’s not aboutyou, it’s about the club. But you’ve both sabotaged that to get back at each other. And that’s not fair to anyone.”

With my elbows on the table, I rub my brow. “I have been trying to tell him we need stricter enforcements and more control over capacity, but he won’t?—”

“Enough,” Matis barks, so I stop speaking. He looks exhausted too as he leans back in his chair. All of this is such a mess, and I hate the disappointment on his face. Suddenly, I’m very glad Ronan isn’t here to see this. Matis’s disappointment, I can handle. But my godfather’s…

Suddenly, I remember Phoenix’s words in the office that day.What if Ronan was wrong about us?

It pains me that she somehow thinks any of this washerfault. Or Weston’s or Amelia’s or Elizabeth’s. Because it was never any of their fault. It was mine.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Matis adds, looking at Julian this time, who is sulking silently in the seat next to me, “I’d say you’re purposefully trying to sabotage this club.”

“Why would I do that?” he replies.

“I don’t know,” Matis says in a calm tone. “To ruin something your father loved. To make Jack look bad.”

Julian scoffs but doesn’t reply. I stare at him with my brows pinched, suddenly wondering if either of those could be true. I’ve never known Julian to have a strained relationship with his father, so the first one seems strange, but to make me look bad…

That does make sense.

But who am I to judge? Haven’t I done the same?

Rule #23: It’s okay to let go sometimes.

Jack

Idon’t call the car back for a ride home after we’ve locked up. I’m the last one to leave, and I decide to walk home instead. It’s only a few hours until sunrise, and the streets are quiet.

When I arrive back at my apartment, I walk in to find it dark and quiet. My kitchen smells like cleaning chemicals, and my sink shines with the absence of the dirty dishes I left in it this afternoon.

Instead of going directly up to my bedroom, I stare at the living room, remembering a time when I once lived here too. But now I’ve turned into a ghost in my own home.