Teaching The Boss

Chapter Thirteen

Early-morning sun streamed through the window, and April groaned. She should've closed the damn blinds, but she hadn't been thinking clearly. After she shut herself in her room, the tears had flowed freely. All her pent-up emotions from the past six years. She cried for Annabelle, whose life was forever altered by Sam's darkest days. She cried for Sam, who would have to wake up and realize he'd thrown away five years of sobriety.

And she cried for them. For the closeness they'd once shared that seemed so far away. Sam basically hated her, and she wasn't sure he could ever get over anything where his father was concerned.

After two hours of tossing and turning, she did what always made her feel better. She sat in the dark and stared out at the busy city below her. Millions upon millions of people. Some were having the best days of their lives and some were having the worst.

But the city lived on. Like a living, breathing super organism. April sat like that for well over an hour, wrapped in her favorite oversized sleeping shirt. When her emotional exhaustion finally set in, she didn't fight it. She'd wanted the night to be over. She wanted it to be tomorrow already so she could be like the people below her. Moving on with life. This time it might just be without Sam.

Now that the sun shined down on her like a cheery optimist she wanted to punch in the face, she was faced with the reality of getting up and moving on with her life. But she immediately vetoed that idea in favor of rolling onto her side and covering her eyes with a pillow.

Which would've worked great if it weren't for the sudden hammering. Huh? No, not hammering. Knocking. Someone banged on the door.

April shot up and off the bed. The clock read seven twenty-five, so she knew it wasn't the hotel kicking her out. Had Donald come down to yell at her for abandoning him without a word last night?

She ran to the door and peered out the peephole. And there was Sam, looking death warmed over. He picked up his fist to knock again, but she called out, "What do you want?"

"Can we talk?"

She looked behind her to the mess she'd made of the room. The beautiful, overpriced gown was tossed carelessly over the desk chair. The heels were strewn across the floor. She wasn't sure she even wanted to look in the mirror. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please. I don't want to leave things like we did."

April took a deep inhale and released it. "Um, give me a second."

She ran to the tiny vanity area in the bathroom to take her first glance at what was sure to be her disaster of a face. Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad. The eye makeup was smudged, but because it was a smoky eye to begin with, now it was just a bit smokier. Satisfied that she didn't look like a zombie, she dashed into the main area of the hotel room to kick her shoes and the overnight bag to the side.

Satisfied with her ten-second clean up, she slid the lock loose and opened the door. Sam immediately frowned as his eyes shot down to her legs.

She followed his gaze and her jaw dropped open. "Oh my God," she muttered as she turned away from the door. Where the hell were her pants? Her oversized sleeping shirt covered all the important bits, but it still fell shorter than all of Jessica's mini dresses.

"Are you okay, April?" asked Sam.

She stared down wistfully at her bag. If she bent over to pull out her pajama pants, she'd reveal far more than she already was. So she did the mature thing and covered her face with her hands and hung her head in embarrassment. "No," she said, the sound muffled from her hands. "I'm really not okay."