The glass chard of betrayal ripped through Merrit’s core, piercing her heart, knifing her tenuous hold on love, tearing at all she knew. She tried to steady herself against the rack, her knees rocking from under her. No, no. My God, how could he?
Brett stomped over to Grant. “What did you just do? That was Jackie at the firm? Dude, what are you doing? This thing you have with Merritt is so good, and you’re going to fuck it up? For what? Shit, Grant, you did this to make partner? I can’t fuckin’ believe what you’re doin’. Man, you are some certified piece of suck.”
Grant grabbed Brett’s arm and tried to quiet the big lineman before they made more of a scene.
Merritt quickly exited during their elevated argument, her face drained, her life in hell’s basket of quandary.
The lump in her throat shortened her steps to the gate area. She sat holding her carry on bag in her lap pining for the comfort of home, of Meatballs’s purr, of solitude away from hurt…