by Emily Bishop
“Tell me about it there. How’s it been? Is the app ready?”
“It’s been… interesting,” Lucy says.
I take a gulp of my drink and nearly choke on the alcohol and spice. “Oh? How so?”
“Well, Mr. Knight has been in an incredible temper since that whole incident. People are afraid to talk to him for fear of him biting their heads off. Did you know he hit Kieran?”
Oh, good, Booker’s also prone to violence. Great choice in men, Sasha.
“That doesn’t surprise me. I was never interested in being with that tyrant.”
“He does seem to have quite the temper,” Lucy observes.
My heart cries out. Deep down, I know Booker is nothing like he portrays himself in the workplace. I know that on the inside he is so much more, so much better a person.
What does that matter, though, when it’s not the man he shows to the rest of the world? Or even me, for that matter? I can’t love a man who hides who he truly is behind closed doors only to be a monster out in the open.
“Otherwise everything is crazy busy, but we’ll pull it off. Somehow, we always do.”
“That’s great, Lucy, really. I’m glad that everything is going well, in spite of his behavior.”
I don’t want to call him Mr. Knight, but I don’t want to call him Booker, either. I don’t want Lucy to know I still think of him all the time. Even in my dreams, he haunts me.
I wish I could hate him as much as I should.
“Yeah. So what are you going to do, now that that job is a no-go?”
I release a breath. It’s the question I’ve been avoiding, that I slipped into a bar to hide from. I know the answer, but I don’t want to face it. I suppose I really have no choice.
“I’m going home for good. There’s nothing for it. I tried my best here and clearly couldn’t cut it. It was worth a try, but New York is no place for someone like me.”
“Sasha, that’s not true. You have options. You just need to keep looking.”
“I’m out of time,” I say. Sad resolution sets over me at my own words. I’m not just telling Lucy. I’m telling myself. “I’m going to leave New York, and that’s that. I still can’t thank you enough for everything you did for me, Luce. You’ve been the best friend a girl could ask for, and I’ll never forget it.”
“You sound determined,” Lucy says.
“I am. Money’s run out. It’s time to go home. Hey, I’ve gotta get going. I’ll let you know when I get settled back home, OK?”
“Sasha—”
“Bye, Lucy.”
I end the call and stare into the watered-down pink liquid inside my glass. I thought I was so brave when I came here, that I was going to take on the world. Instead, I ended up ruining any chance I had at a better life.
Maybe there’s something more for me that I missed in Pennsylvania. I suppose I’ll have to go home and hope I can find it.
I pay my bill and hold on to the extra cash. I’ll need all I can get, and this was probably already a waste.
I guess I’ll be heading home now. I glance down at Booker’s letter again and shove it deeper into my bag.
No use wasting time on empty dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Booker
I stare down at a pile of invitation prototypes for the gala on my desk. This was something Sasha and I should have been working on together, something we could have really turned into the perfect draw.
Instead, I had to have Lucy take a stab at it on her own.
Lucy is great. She’s an effective assistant, but she doesn’t have that drive, that hunger Sasha had. Sasha would have worked on these until she was convinced they were perfect. Lucy produced a series of samples within the hour and sent them over without another glance.
A typo glares up at me from the text on the first invitation.
Why hasn’t Sasha called?
Over the past few weeks, I’ve buried myself in my work, waiting. She is a woman who can make her own choices, obviously, but I was so certain that once she read my letter, she would come back.
How could I have read the situation so wrong?
The connection I had with her hasn’t waned with absence, either. Instead of speaking with her, texting with her, I simply see her in my dreams. Every night, I’m with her. Sometimes, we’re talking on my couch, discussing things I’ve never shared with anyone. Other times, it’s more passionate, me buried between her thighs as she begs me for more.
Those nights are my favorite, until I wake up with sticky sheets and a general sense of emptiness and unease.
I need some air.
I leave the invitations on my desk without an answer as to my choice and grab my jacket on the way out of my office. I slide my arms into the sleeves and step out of my door, only to see Lucy walking out into the hallway as well.
“Miss Shone. I was just looking at the invites.”
When she looks up at me, her eyes widen, and she takes a step back toward her office, like she wants to hide from me.
What the hell is that about?
“Mr. Knight. That’s great. I figured I’d leave them for you to decide. No… no need to chat any further on this, if you don’t want. Just let me know which one you’d like, and I’ll send it to copy.”
“Sure. Hey, quick question,” I say.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Something weird is definitely going on. I wonder if blatant honesty will work for me in this instance.
“What are you hiding?”
Her eyebrows shoot toward her hairline as she shifts her weight to her back foot yet again. Her hands come together and wring before her, a telltale sign.
“What? Why would I be hiding something?”
“I don’t know. You’re going to have to tell me. You’re literally acting shifty.”
She glances down at herself and realizes for the first time that she’s moving from side to side with nervous energy. Her body stops, and she looks back up at me with misty brown cow eyes.
“It’s, uh. I talked to Sasha yesterday.”
My heart jumps. I hold a neutral expression as I watch her. I can tell she’s looking for some sign that she’s set me off, and I’m afraid I can’t blame her. Since Sasha left, I’ve been a complete wreck, totally on edge. It hasn’t been fair to anyone here, to the point where I’ve considered walking several times. Every time I do, Kieran appears and stops me.
He seems to have a sixth sense for when I’m about to have a meltdown. As much as he’s pissed me off these past few weeks, it’s been nice to have him around to keep me stable, on some level. I release a silent breath and count to three before I respond.
“Is she all right?”
If something’s happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself for not trying harder, doing more to get her to understand that I’m not the man she seems to think I am. There has to be some way past this. Or is it too late? What’s happened?
“Uh, well, yeah. I guess.”
It takes everything in me not to grab Lucy by the shoulders and shake the information out of her. Instead, I take a step back and cross my arms to resist the urge. I’ve already caused enough damage in the women’s department. No need to make it worse by losing my cool for the hundredth time.
“What do you mean, ‘you guess?’ What’s happened?”
“Well, she’s been job hunting for a while but nothing’s really coming up. She’s run out of money. She’s leaving New York.”
Her gaze searches mine for a response. She might as well have punched me in the face. While I’m glad nothing is physically wrong with Sasha, I can only imagine what she’s been through these past few weeks, watching her bank account dwindle while looking for job after job, to no avail.
And all for nothing. All of this could have been avoided if she hadn’t decided to be so damn stubborn and pigheaded.
Pot, meet kettle, my brain chides.
Fuck off, brain. I’ve got more important things to do.
&nbs
p; I’ve got to stop Sasha from leaving New York. She doesn’t belong in that tiny little town, stuck going nowhere. She has the potential to live a magnificent life, and I can help get her there.
She just has to forgive me.
“No, she’s not,” I reply, and Lucy’s eyes narrow as she takes in that statement.
“Yes, she is,” she says.
“Not if I have anything to say about it. I’ve got to stop her.”
“Booker.”
I’ve never heard Lucy say my name before. It takes me aback, and I stare at her.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
In this moment, Lucy isn’t my subordinate. She is the best friend of the woman whose heart I’ve broken. I take a step closer to her.
“Lucy, I messed up. I know I was wrong, but I need her. I’ve never met anyone like her, and I never will again. If I don’t stop her from leaving now, there’s a chance neither of us will be happy.”
She blows a breath from her nostrils and crosses her arms. “Fine. Just try and make it up to her, OK? You owe her big time.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ve got this, Lucy. I promise.”
I tap her arm and stride down the hallway. I’ve got to get to Sasha. I’ve got to stop her before she makes the biggest mistake of her damn life.
“I don’t like that expression. Why are you wearing it?”
Kieran.
I stop in my tracks and glance over at my friend. He stalks down the hallway, ready for yet another in a long line of interventions. I often wonder if he’s helping me or holding me back, though I imagine he often wonders the same thing. While our friendship has gotten back on track, there’s still a distance between us, and I can’t quite figure out how to patch the rift. Not fully, anyway.
“Sasha’s leaving New York,” I tell him.
“Nope. Nuh-uh. Your office. Now.”
“Kieran, I don’t have time for this!”
“You’ve had weeks, and I doubt she’s getting on the plane this instant. Just hear what I have to say, and if it doesn’t resonate with you, then you can be on your merry way. Deal?”
I glance over his shoulder at the elevator. My whole body is filled with adrenaline. I need to get out of here. I need to move, to take action. All these weeks of sitting back and waiting for her to come around were clearly a mistake. I have to get through to her. I have to do something.
Kieran doesn’t budge. It’s clear I’m not getting out of this office without having this conversation first.
“You have five minutes,” I grumble. He places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back in the direction of my office. When we pass Lucy, she frowns. No doubt she thinks Kieran is going to talk me out of this, and I’m just going to let Sasha go.
She’s in for quite the surprise.
Kieran pushes me into the office and closes the door behind us. “You’re not leaving this company for a woman,” he declares.
“I don’t have to leave the company. I can use this as my lunch break and get back to it.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice, and Kieran’s eyes narrow as he watches me.
“Bullshit. If you walk out that door now, you’re never coming back. You don’t think I know that? Can you pull your head out of your ass for just a minute and see some reason here? That woman has had weeks to contact you, and she has chosen not to. I know you’re not used to rejection. I think this might be a first for you, but she’s not interested. Don’t leave just so you can get hurt.”
“You don’t know that. She’s still laboring under the misconception that I used her for company profit. If I can dissuade her of that notion, there’s a chance I can set everything right again.”
“Do you even hear yourself? I’ve never heard a more desperate grab at straws! She doesn’t like you, man! Get over her and move on. Fuck someone else. Do what you have to do. Let her go and go back to living your own life. You’ve been impossible to be around since she left.”
“I can’t do that,” I growl.
Kieran stares me down. Tense silence fills the room and expands that cavern between us. I don’t know if Sasha is the reason we’re losing our friendship or if I am or if he is. Maybe it’s all three of us somehow creating that wedge.
“You can’t do that?” Kieran asks, finally. “Booker, I don’t even know who you are anymore, man. Ever since that app connection happened it’s like you’re a different person, hell, a different partner. We used to function like a well-oiled machine. Now we can barely be in the same room together without some kind of argument.”
Kieran sighs in exasperation as he tries his hardest to get me to see reason. Reason from his perspective. I can understand his words on a rational level. He’s not wrong.
And yet, he is wrong. Very, very wrong.
“I feel like I’ve been losing you all this time, as a business partner and as a friend. We’ve been through everything together, man. Why are you throwing all this away now? Why are you throwing our friendship away?”
“You’re trying to guilt me. It won’t work,” I reply. I lean back against my desk and cross my arms again.
“We’ve been growing separately for a long time. I took on this position to help you, but the truth is you don’t need as much help as you think. You and I are perfectly capable of running businesses away from each other. Maybe it’s time we face that reality and be OK with it.”
“Are you saying you want out?” Kieran asks, his tone quiet.
“I’m saying I need you to let me go do what I need to do. I need you to support me, even though you don’t agree with what I’m doing. I need friend Kieran, not partner Kieran. Can you do that for me now?”
“Friend Kieran wants to hold you down so you don’t make an ass of yourself and come back in an even fowler mood. Can friend Kieran do that?”
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing,” I say.
Man, I sound confident. I hope I’m right.
Kieran shrugs and steps away from the door. “If you say so. I hope it goes the way you think it will.”
“It will. Thanks, buddy.”
I slap Kieran on the back and sprint out the door and down the hall.
Let’s just hope I’m not too late. Let’s hope she’s not already gone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sasha
I glance around my bare apartment.
I managed to give away anything I couldn’t travel with. I flip open my laptop and check my flight itinerary for the fifth time this afternoon, just to be sure nothing’s changed.
In two days, I’ll be flying back home. It was the cheapest flight I could find. Any sooner and I would have been hitting the negatives in my bank account.
What a feeling, to be totally and utterly broke.
I frown as I sit on my bed. The landlord agreed to keep some of the furniture for future tenants who might want the place partially furnished. With everything practically brand new, she couldn’t resist the offer. She gave me a hundred bucks for all of it.
I don’t even want to think about how much I’ve lost. Physically. Emotionally.
What a waste.
My phone rings from the kitchen counter. I jump up and walk over to it, then look at the screen.
Booker.
My heart flutters and my stomach drops, as always. I hate this horrible combination of emotions every time he tries to reach out. My body aches for him while my mind does everything it can to push him from my thoughts. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had at least five sex dreams about him since the incident. I also miss just talking to him, incident or not.
That’s what I call the whole thing. The incident. Sounds better than “that time I gave it up to a man who wanted to use me for a marketing scheme.”
I let the phone ring until it goes to voicemail. Any voicemails he’s left I’ve simply deleted without listening, in spite of the very real urge to press play. I have to protect myself. Letting Booker in even a tiny fraction will have me losing my resolve, and I can’t have tha
t.
Knock, knock, knock.
Firm knuckles slap my front door, and I jump as I glance over. This situation feels terribly familiar.
“Sasha! I know you’re in there! We need to talk.”
Booker’s voice booms through the thin wood of my door. I stare at it as my hands tremble. My fingers ache to turn the lock and let him in, but I force them to grip the chair I’m sitting in and not move.
Maybe if I stay silent, he’ll leave.
“You think this is going to work again? I heard your cell phone ringing! I know you’re in there!”
Even when he sounds angry, I want to wrap myself around him. That’s why Booker is so dangerous. My body doesn’t understand he’s toxic. Bad news. Must stay away. Must steel my resolve.
“Dammit, Sasha! If you don’t open the door, I will break it down! Stop being so damn stubborn and listen to me for one minute!”
This time, I fly to the door and glare at it as though I’m glaring right into his stupid green eyes.
“So, now you’re threatening to damage my property? Nice, Booker. You’re a real stand-up guy. Fuck off!”
I hear him press against the door, but the movement isn’t forceful. More like he’s pressed his back against the door or something. I’m tempted to look into the peephole, but I don’t want to see him. I can’t bear to see his face again, when I’ve worked so hard to move on.
“Did you read the letter?” he asks.
His voice is softer through the door, but I can hear him as though he’s right next to me. I glance over at my work bag. The unopened letter is tucked away inside.
“I don’t need to. I don’t need to hear your excuses or lies.”
“It’s not a lie. It’s the most truthful thing I’ve ever written. I know you think I’ve used you and betrayed you, but please, just read the note. If you still don’t believe me after that, then I’ll walk away and leave you alone forever. I think that’s a pretty fair deal.”
I hesitate. He’s not wrong. If all I have to do is read his stupid note for him to leave me alone to heal my broken heart in peace, perhaps this is my only option out.
