by Katee Robert
“It’s an interview.” She pushed to her feet and gave him a pleading look. “We talked about this. Every single thing that’s happened to me after graduation has been one step forward and seven steps back. This could be the thing that finally puts my plan back in action. This could be the thing that finally gives me my freedom.”
“Your freedom.” He clipped out the words. Cameron felt Aaron come up behind him, but they’d gone too far to pretend like everything was all right now. “And your fucking plan. You love that damn plan more than you can ever love another person. I understand wanting to get out from beneath your mother’s presence, but fuck, Trish. Did this thing between us really mean so little to you that you’re not even willing to reconsider that plan you worship so much?”
Her guilt disappeared, replaced by anger. “Easy for you to say. You are living your dream job in your dream city, and you’ll eventually succeed in convincing your parents to move out to this side of the country and won’t have to compromise on that, either. What the hell do you know about constantly reaching for something and being constantly told that you’re not good enough?”
“I’m a black man in America, Trish. I think I know a thing or two.”
She stopped, pressed her lips together, but charged on. “Point conceded. But the fact remains that working for Barton Fashion is one of my dream jobs and prematurely saying no to an interview with them because of a guy I’m sleeping with is the height of stupidity.”
“The guy you’re sleeping with,” Aaron muttered behind him.
The guy you’re sleeping with.
That was all this was to her. He’d known. Damn it, he’d been the one to set the terms to begin with. Stupid of him to think that just because things had changed for him that meant they’d changed for her, too. He couldn’t tell her he loved her now. She’d accuse him of trying to keep her from taking the interview—from potentially taking the job—and she’d be right.
He had to let her go.
The realization nearly took him out at the knees. He couldn’t ask her to stay. He might love her, but he had no right to ask her to give up her dreams just because those same dreams would take her away from him. Damn it, he had to end it. “You’re right.”
Trish blinked. “I’m sorry, I thought you just said that I’m right.”
“Because I did. You have to take the interview—and the job, if they offer it. It would be idiotic not to.” Even if you made that choice for me. If she did, she’d spend the rest of their time together resenting him for clipping her wings the same way she felt her mother wanted to, and it would spell the end of them before they had a chance to begin.
Cameron drew himself up, cloaking himself in the coldness he was so often known for. He’d never had to fake it before, though. “Good luck on your interview, Trish. I’ll start looking for your replacement this week.”
* * *
Trish barely saw Cameron the rest of the day, and when she did, he was colder to her than he’d ever been—even when she’d first started working for Tandem Security. She hadn’t wanted him to yell at her or to... God, she didn’t even know how she had wanted him to respond to the news that she had an interview elsewhere.
Not like this, though.
And dealing with Aaron hadn’t been any better. When she’d made it clear that her personal life wasn’t any of his business, he’d announced he was working from home and abandoned her in the office alone with Cameron.
She went over their fight—if someone could call it that—over and over again as the day wound down. Every single point she made still stood. She was sleeping with Cameron, but that didn’t mean she should make life choices based on that fact. She would be worse than an idiot not to take the interview because of a relationship, let alone a relationship that had started barely a week previous. That kind of decision-making was the height of madness. If things with her and Cameron exploded or fizzled out, he’d still have his company...and she’d be back to square one. He was his own safety net.
She needed to be her own, too.
But that didn’t change the truth. She felt utterly terrible. Her chest was one aching hole of despair and her stomach hadn’t stopped twisting itself into knots. Half a dozen times during the day, she rose to walk back to Cameron’s office, but she never made that first step. What was there to say? She had to take this opportunity. Begging him not to be mad at her wasn’t fair to him, not when she’d seen the hurt written on his face before it fell into his distant cold mask. Hurt she had caused. Forcing him to rehash it when she knew they’d both come to the same conclusion was just cruel.
Knowing that didn’t make her feel the least bit better.
Five o’clock rolled around, and she reluctantly clocked out. Trish turned to the elevator, but she couldn’t leave things how they were. She couldn’t. She walked into Cameron’s office. “You would make the same call if our situations were reversed.”
“Undoubtedly.” He didn’t look up from his computer. “I already gave you my blessing, which you already pointed out that you don’t need. I’m just some guy you’re sleeping with, remember?”
Hurt lodged in her throat, and knowing she was the one who’d caused this mess only made it worse. “I don’t see any other option available to me, Cam. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
He sighed in irritation and turned to face her. “This is the only option available to you. But since you’re obviously obsessing over it, let’s play this out. You turn down the interview for some guy you’re fucking, and two options are available as an outcome. Option one—you end up developing a relationship with him, but you resent him because you turned down what could have been your dream job. Things end badly. Option two—the fling fizzles out as flings are wont to do. You can’t deal with working with the guy you were fucking and now aren’t, so you quit and end up moving back in with your parents. Things end badly.” He recited the potential outcome for them as if reading from some report that had nothing to do with him.
As if he didn’t care.
Her throat was too tight, and she tried to swallow past it. “That’s not fair.”
His composure cracked. “What do you want from me?” Cameron slid his chair back, as if even with the desk between them, he couldn’t stand to be that close to her. “Seriously, Trish. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to rail at you and tell you not to go because I love you? Do you really think I’m that selfish? You’ve spent the entire time we’ve known each other talking about your plan, and now you have a chance at achieving it. Good for you. I wish you well. But give me the fucking courtesy of not forcing me to rehash this over and over again until you get the job offer because you feel guilty and want me to grant forgiveness or whatever the hell you want. We had fun while it lasted. It’s over now. The end.”
“You love me?” If anything, the pit in her chest got wider and deeper at the truth he’d spit, a swirling sensation inside her threatening to swallow her whole.
“It. Doesn’t. Matter.” He stood slowly. “Like I said—it’s over now. Get out of my office. Please.”
The please sent her spinning into motion, hurtling out of his office as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. He loved her and it didn’t matter because he’d put his feelings aside so she could accomplish what she’d always wanted to do. She couldn’t stay and keep hurting him just because she didn’t know what the hell she was feeling. She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, but every word had just made it hurt worse.
If they offered her the job, Trish would take it.
Cameron will be okay. He’s too strong to let something like a little heartbreak get him down for long. He’d recover and get back to his normal brilliant, cranky self. It would be okay. They would both be okay.
At the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered.
Not her broken heart. Not her guilt.
Her plan.<
br />
She just had to remember that, because it would be the only thing that got her through the coming months.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. Stop moping.”
Cameron almost ignored Aaron looming in his doorway, but he’d been avoiding his friend for the week since Trish took the interview—and got the job. Even though he’d suspected she’d nail the interview, he still hadn’t come to terms with just how comfortable he’d gotten with her in the office. The new girl was always underfoot and, though she didn’t exactly curl up in a ball and cry when he snarled at her, she was no Trish.
That was the problem, though.
After Trish, no one else would do.
Not just for the job. For his fucking life.
“Cameron.”
“I’m not moping. I’m working.” He closed the window and shut down his computer. He wasn’t going to get anything else accomplished today, so there was no point in sticking around.
Especially if Aaron was going to corner him for some kind of misguided intervention. He pushed to his feet, but his friend hadn’t moved from his spot blocking the doorway. Cameron stopped short. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“Wrong. The fact that I’ve waited this long is only because we’re friends and I was waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and fix things. Since you’re showing no signs of doing so, I’m stepping in.” Aaron walked into his office and closed the door. He leaned back against it. “When were you going to tell me you’re in love with my sister?”
He should have known Aaron would pick up on that. He’d overheard their conversation, after all, and he wasn’t an idiot. “I wasn’t going to tell you. It’s a moot point. She left.”
“No shit, she left. She got a job with one of her dream companies. You can’t actually have expected her to stay.”
Why did people keep speaking the obvious to him? Of course he didn’t expect her to stay. Hoping that she would was akin to hoping her dreams would be dashed yet again, and Cameron wasn’t monstrous enough to wish for something that would hurt her.
No matter how much her leaving felt like she’d ripped his heart out of his chest and taken it with her.
Since Aaron obviously had more to say, he crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. “I want her to be happy. I wasn’t going to hold her back.”
Aaron stared at him hard, a flinty look in his blue eyes. He shared similar coloring as Trish, though where she seemed soft and almost innocent in some ways with her curls and freckles, Aaron’s looks were carved of ice when he wasn’t in the mood to deal with people’s bullshit. Much like he seemed to be in that moment. He finally shook his head. “How long have we known each other?”
Was that a trick question? “Going on fifteen years now.”
“Yeah. Fourteen years and some change. In all that time, I’ve never seen you hesitate—not even when you should hesitate. If you really love her... Fuck, Cameron, is now going to be the moment you decide to break your streak? You’re better than this.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?” he roared. “I didn’t hold her back. I stepped out of the way so she could do what she needed to do without feeling guilty. Why the hell am I being asked for more? I’m not a fucking magician to perform a trick and suddenly make this all okay.”
Aaron didn’t so much as blink. “This is a problem, and you fix problems.”
“I fix problems with computers—not with people.”
“Figure it the fuck out, Cameron. If you don’t, you’re going to lose her. The clock started running down the second you let her walk out that door without offering a solution, a compromise, a single goddamn word.” He pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto Cameron’s desk. “She’s miserable, in case you were wondering. This is the happiest she should ever be, and she’s so sad, she can barely pull together a fake smile for our parents. She hasn’t even bothered trying with me and Becka.”
He didn’t want to hear that. If he was falling on his sword for her, he wanted her to be happy. More than happy. He wanted her to be walking on air and untouchable. “Why the hell are we doing this if we’re both miserable?”
“That is the question you should be asking—and answering.” Aaron pushed off the door, opened it and walked out without looking back. “Let me know when you have an answer.”
Cameron slumped down onto his desk and stared at the plain white envelope. It was smaller than standard, half the width and length of a normal envelope, and the only thing written on it was his name. Even after such a short time together, he recognized the rounded letters of Trish’s handwriting.
What else could she possibly have left to say?
He shut and locked his door and sat behind his desk once more to carefully open the letter. It was a torn piece of paper that looked like she’d written on as an afterthought.
Or written on in a flurry before she could second-guess herself about the wisdom of writing in the first place.
He took a second to wish he kept whiskey stashed in a drawer, then began to read.
Cam,
God, I don’t even know what to say. You’re right. This is what I wanted...except it’s not what I wanted. I never expected to fall in love with you. I never wanted it. It hurts, Cam. A lot. I know love is complicated and not as easy as in the movies, but this is just ridiculous. How am I supposed to choose between the career I’ve spent most of my life wanting and you? It’s not fair, and I know that’s a child’s plea, but I’m feeling suitably dramatic.
You’re probably gritting your teeth about now and wondering what the hell my point is.
It goes like this—you hurt me when you didn’t try to stop me from leaving. Stupid, right? I know it is, so you don’t have to tell me so. I had this moment of surety that if you turned that indomitable will to us, if you loved me, too, then maybe we could figure things out.
You were pretty clear about where you stood, and I’m trying to respect that. I’m sorry if I hurt you at any point, because that really wasn’t my intention. But you know what they say about good intentions...
All this is just a long way of saying goodbye. And I’m a selfish ass, because I’m doing it in a letter that you won’t have a chance to respond to because I’m afraid if you say a single word, then I won’t go. You were right about that, too—I have to go. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what my life would have been like, and that’s not fair to either one of us.
I hope you end up happy, Cam. I really do. Maybe not right now, or next week, but at some point in the future.
—Trish
He let the letter drift to his desk. “The fuck you think you get to have the last word, Trish. Goddamn it.” She loved him, and she was going to send him a goddamn letter instead of giving him a chance to fix this. She was going to wish him well, as if that wasn’t the height of insanity.
He stared blindly at his blank computer screen. There was a solution to this. Aaron was right on that count, though there’d be no living with him once Cameron admitted it. He just had to figure it out. The old saying about not being able to have your cake and eat it, too, was bullshit. He wanted his fucking cake.
He wanted Trish.
He’d find a way for them to be together.
There was no longer an option where he sat back and let her ride into the sunset without him.
Not when he knew she loved him, too.
* * *
Trish clicked Play for the third time in a row and waited for the credits to play out to restart The Proposal. She wasn’t sure if she’d even liked this movie before this weekend, but it was on demand on the hotel TV and after the first time watching it, she’d cried and cried and started it over from the beginning.
She pulled her comforter tighter around her shoulders. She only had one more day to get this out of her system before she had to show up f
or work on Monday. Barton Fashion hadn’t hired brokenhearted and can’t-stop-crying Trish, they’d hired bright and peppy and sunny Trish. She didn’t know how she was going to pull it off, but she’d figure it out sometime in the next twenty-four hours.
Plenty of time.
Just like the rest of her life, stretching out before her in a uniform without-Cameron road.
She shouldn’t have left that letter with Aaron. It was cowardly and stupid, and begging Cameron to fix things after she made this choice wasn’t fair. Trish used a tissue to wipe at her eyes, wishing the tears would just stop. What if Cameron had already read the letter? What if he was... God, she didn’t even know, but dread cloaked her in an unrelenting wave with the suspicion that she’d just somehow made everything so much worse.
She dialed her phone before she could talk herself out of it. It’s just to fix things. It’s definitely not so I can hear his voice again. She didn’t really expect him to answer. He had to hate her now, which meant he’d let the call go through and she’d leave a stammering voice mail begging him not to read any absurd letter that Aaron gave him, and that would be that. Simple.
Liar.
“Trish?”
Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest. Oh God, he answered. “Cam?”
“Is everything okay?”
How could he sound so calm and put together when she’d cried her way through a jumbo box of tissues and eaten her weight in chocolate chip cookies? My fault. Not fair to ask him to react the same when I made this call. She cleared her throat. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.” He didn’t immediately say anything, so she kept talking, needing to get it out before she lost her last connection to him, however small. “I did a selfish thing and wrote you a letter, and if Aaron hasn’t given it to you, I would really appreciate if you burn the damn thing once he does. And if he has—”
