6. Monroe

SIX

MONROE

I've been on the road for almost twelve hours. I'm somewhere in the middle of North Carolina, and even though I left Hope Harbor pretty early this morning, I'm exhausted. It's weird how you can be busy all day and still have energy, but when you sit behind the wheel of a car for hours on end, you feel like you ran a fucking marathon.

A cramp seizes my leg muscle, and I decide that it's time to pull over and get a hotel room. I need to sleep if I'm going to make it another eight hours. Riggs insisted that I fly; then he'd have my car shipped down to Daytona. And while it was a logical idea, I refused. Something about the fact that he was making perfect sense didn't sit right with me.

I was being a bitch. Whatever.

The boutique closed two days ago. It was bittersweet, but Claire seemed to be at peace with it. That poor woman has worked her fingers to the bone for decades because she loved that place so much. She deserves to enjoy some rest and relaxation. Grace is living in Boston and making clothes for all the football wives, but she's promised to stop by my house once a week to check on things and grab the mail. I'll be back before I know it. Either I'll help Riggs get out of trouble with his team and return home quickly, or I'll kill the stupid motherfucker and flee the state of Florida without a trace. Both are possible honestly.

Thankfully, I got off at the right exit because it seems to be a main drag, lined with several restaurants and hotels. I pull my car into the first one I see, relieved that the parking lot seems fairly empty. Hopefully it's because it's early on a weekday and the rooms are vacant, and not because it's a shithole with bedbugs.

Within twenty minutes, I'm checked into my room and lugging my two suitcases onto the elevator. The place is clean and doesn't smell like body odor, so I'm happy. Despite being raised in an expensive home with pretentious parents, I don't need to be fed with a silver spoon. As long as I have access to McDonald's french fries and Coca-Cola every now and then, I'm good. To me, those are the finer things in life.

My mom would shit a brick if she heard me say that.

I use my key card to enter the room and make a beeline for the bed, tossing my bags on top. I rifle through them for a new pair of underwear, an oversized t-shirt, and my toiletry bag because I feel disgusting from sitting in the car all day. All I want is to take the hottest shower known to man and spend the night watching a trashy Netflix dating show.

I spend a while washing my body and hair, stopping to have an impromptu Bella Simon karaoke sesh before I shave my legs. The fact that my best friend makes game day outfits for the pop star will never stop being cool to me. Grace says she's the most down-to-earth person in the world, which makes her even more amazing in my eyes. Bella was a guest at her wedding with Tanner a few months ago, but I unfortunately couldn't make it because of work. It was a last-minute event after the Boston Blizzard won the Super Bowl, so while I was sad I wasn't there, I understood. I was still her maid of honor via FaceTime.

I turn off the water, wring out my long, dark brown hair, and dry off before throwing on my panties and t-shirt. Just as I plop down in bed and pull up the streaming app on my laptop, my phone vibrates with a text. I look to see the notification from my best friend before swiping up to open the messaging app.

I ended up telling her what was going on after Riggs left my house that day. She already knew he was in trouble with the team and needed to do a quick one-eighty in their eyes, so I don't think she was too surprised when I laid out the plan he came up with. I'm already keeping one big secret from her, and I wasn't about to add to that.

GRACE

Hey sister-in-law! How's the drive treating you?

MONROE:

Oh, fuck off. One thing you can be certain of is that I will NEVER marry your brother. The only reason I'm even helping him is because I ran out of options and need money to survive.

GRACE:

I still don't understand why you hate each other so much. Trust me, if anyone knows how annoying he is, it's me. But it seems like you guys didn't even give it a chance.

MONROE:

I know guys like him, Grace. No offense, but he's a douche. I'd rather put my nipples through a cheese grater than be friends with him. This arrangement is strictly business.

GRACE:

Please don't kill him. I'm not in his will yet.

MONROE:

No promises.

I know what you're thinking. I should've just been honest with her over the last two years and told her how Riggs and I really met. But every time I started to, I chickened out. Grace is the best friend I've ever had, and I'm afraid that if she knows that I slept with her brother, I'll lose her. Even though it was before she and I met, I don't want that night to screw up the amazing relationship we have. Or worse, what if she loves the idea of us and tries to get us to be together? No thanks to that. Riggs Valentine belongs to the streets. I am not equipped, nor do I have the patience, to turn a ho of that caliber into a husband.

Like I told Grace. Doing this was a last resort. Although I submitted several applications and sent my resume to every marketing firm within driving distance of my house, the responses aren't coming in, so I needed something quick. Could I have picked up a serving job or done some delivery driving? Yeah, probably. But none of those things will get me any closer to starting my own business the way going to Daytona will. As long as Riggs stays in his lane and keeps himself from getting into any more trouble, we'll be fine.

I set my phone down, picking up my laptop and starting the dating game show I've been dying to watch. But I'm so exhausted, I barely make it through the first episode before sleep takes me.

Tomorrow, the shit show begins.