Chapter Seventeen

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"Good afternoon Soncerae—How was shopping?" Jackie questions, following me into my room.

"We got everything we needed and more, the kids are more than prepared for Italy," I turn to her. "Is there something you need to tell me?" I question.

"Yes," she sighs. "Mr. Frechette requested your presence as soon as you returned home, I'll take the kids down to dinner—"

"We already had dinner," I tell her. "We went to dinner in the city, they're getting ready for bed now—I'll be down in a minute," I say, and she nods.

"Alright then," she says.

"I'm sorry that this is how things have to be—I know there are a million other things you have to do in your day," I tell her.

"Just another day's work," she sighs. I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. She leaves the room, and I kick off my shoes. Making my way down to Misha's office, where he no doubt was waiting. I pass by one of the dens, where I hear Sadie and her friends whispering and giggling back and forth. I make it to Misha's main office, knocking lightly on the door before pushing inside. Misha sits behind his desk, drinking a glass of rum—I could tell by the color, and looking at his computer screen.

"You requested my presence?" I question, stepping into the room.

"Ah yes—I need to talk to you," he says. "Close the door behind you," he says, I shut the door behind me, stepping more into the room.

"Actually—I wanted to speak to you too," I tell him.

"Well, uh—You go first," he says.

"Listen, Misha," I say, walking forward. "I know what we are exactly, or what you want out of me, but—I respect myself too much to continue to be a secret, and I know a decision like this is really hard, and this decision could hurt multiple people but—You're going to have to choose between Sadie and me, we can't continue this relationship like this," I say, Misha, freezes slightly, setting down his glass.

"I see—" he says.

"You don't have to make the decision now—But until you do, I don't think we should see each other anymore," I say, he tenses briefly before nodding.

"I understand," he says, clearing his throat.

"And what did you need to speak to me about?" I question.

"Uh—Nothing," Misha says, sitting up in his seat. "I forgot—I'll let Jackie know once I remember," he says, and I nod.

"Alright—" I say.

"Alright," he says.

"Okay—Good night," I nod, before turning and ducking out of the room quickly, my stomach in knots. I can still hear Sadie and her friends giggling in the other room, so she probably didn't even notice me down here. I make my way upstairs into my room, crawling under my blankets, and trying to reassure myself that I made a good decision.

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The weeks leading up to the trip were dreadful.

On top of taking care of Orson and Embry, dealing with their schoolwork, and preparing them for the trip. I had to work for the magazine, and deal with every nip-picky task that Sadie felt should fall onto me. Whether it was re-organizing the kid's closets, so they were more presentable, or random meal prepping. A senseless task that she was doing to keep me busy so that I wasn't anywhere near Misha—Who has started working from home more frequently, meaning we see each other more often.

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