Quit Me If You Can

35. Cade

35

CADE

I should have told her. I should have trusted that we’d find a way, together.

If only I’d known how she truly felt, things might have played out differently. She’s absolutely right. What I did was inexcusable. If I try to see things from her perspective, imagine being blindsided like that, suffering as long as she has, I get it. The anguish she must have felt is probably like the pain that tore me apart when I had to let her go.

But I can’t lose her again.

I suit up and bolt out the door, heading for my motorcycle. It’s already dark out. I’m halfway to her place when I see a road sign alerting drivers that there’s an accident ahead. Traffic is backed up for miles, not even giving two-wheelers a chance to weave through.

I pull out my phone and fire off a text.

Me:

I’m coming over.

There’s no reply. After twenty minutes, the traffic is starting to clear.

Me:

En route. Delay your bedtime plans.

Kennedy:

I’m not home.

I’m trying to figure out whether to press forward or walk away. In court, I’d know without a second thought. But with Kennedy, I’m out of my depth. It’s like being thrown down a hundred-foot well with no rope, no light, and no way up.

At least she responded. That’s a good sign.

Me:

Where are you?

Kennedy:

I don’t want to see you again.

Me:

I have to talk to you.

Kennedy:

No. I’ve heard all I need to hear. I see no future for us. Stop contacting me.

I take a moment to collect my thoughts.

She doesn’t mean it. If she did, she would have blocked me. She’ll come to the office tomorrow. I’m sure of it. She just needs a little time to cool off, and I’ll figure out a way to make things right with her.

I’m confident of that very thing as I head into the office the next morning. Kennedy hasn’t arrived before me, as she’s made a habit of doing lately. I’m not too surprised. It was a rough night. I’m a little late myself.

Hours pass, and there’s still no sign of her.

Since Shanice doesn’t have any intel and Carmen Dashnell has an outside appointment, I check with the other paralegals, but none of them have heard from her either. It’s ironic. I had reservations about her working in my office initially, but now, all I want is to glance over at the empty wooden desk in the corner and find her there, filling the space that feels far too quiet and way too orderly without her.

It’s impossible to focus on work, having no idea where she is or how she’s doing. She’s not answering my calls or responding to my texts, so all I can do is wait.

Finally, she arrives. I jump at the sound of the door, thinking it’s Kennedy. But it’s not.

“Hello Mr. Gladwell,” Carmen says. “Sorry for the delay, and sorry to bother you. I just need to talk to you about this position opening up. Do you want me to post it right away? I was wondering if we shouldn’t amp up the required qualifications a bit. I know Kennedy was just a paralegal, but she was really excelling here. For somebody to fill her shoes and take on her caseloads, they’d need to have more experience than we’re advertising for.”

What? Removing my glasses, I shake my head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The paralegal position,” she repeats. “I have to say, I’m surprised to see Kennedy go. I thought she was in it for the long haul. I mean, I interviewed her and recommended her myself. Well, I guess sometimes you just can’t tell with the new hires.”

“Kennedy’s leaving?”

“She resigned.” Carmen frowns, handing me her tablet with a message displayed on the screen. “She sent it early this morning. She didn’t give a reason or notice or anything.”

I read the email Kennedy sent to Carmen, that she didn’t even copy me on.

I regret to inform you that I will not be returning to work at G&G Law Group.

Please accept my resignation effective immediately. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

Thank you for the opportunity.

“It’s rather unprofessional, the more I think about it,” Carmen continues, slipping the tablet under her arm. “I wanted to give her a chance. But apparently, that was a bad move on my part.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t a bad move,” I say, aware that my pulse is racing. I messed everything up, and now Kennedy has quit her job. “It isn’t Kennedy’s fault. Please make sure if any prospective employers call us for a reference, you put them straight through to me. I don’t want this affecting her future job opportunities.”

I snatch up my coat and helmet, and head for the door.

I haul ass until I get to Kennedy’s apartment. There has to be a way to make this right. If she wants to be done with me, that’s fine. But I refuse to let this get in the way of her future or prevent her from continuing to work at the firm, if she would even consider it. She doesn’t have to be my paralegal, wouldn’t even have to work in the department I directly supervise. She’s achieved too much and overcome too many obstacles for it all to be derailed by me.

I’m determined. I knock and knock on her door until a neighbor comes out and shoots me a dirty look. There’s no answer. Where is she? She still isn’t returning my calls and messages.

With a huge knot in my stomach, I head home, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to reach her for the rest of the day.

I instruct Shanice to push all my calls and meetings, telling her that something important has come up, and to reschedule everything over the next couple of days.

Each time my phone rings, I hope it’s Kennedy. But no such luck.

All I’m getting from her is radio silence.