23. Jessica
Short chairs are uncomfortable.
It’s been over an hour since I sat down on this small wooden chair, perched against Gina’s office desk, staring at her monitors. My back aches, and I know Gina sees me shifting awkwardly, but she chooses to ignore it.
“I feel like there are too many words here. I mean, what’s all the extra fluff about? She took a pill…that’s it.”
My eyes roll, a scoff escaping my mouth.
“I couldn’t meet the word count there. I had to go back and add a few more fillers. I’m a storyteller, but some requirements just can’t be met with storytelling.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and scratch this all out.”
Her eyes remain fixed on the screen as her finger jumps to the backspace button before I can squeeze a word in.
I hate you.
Knowing Gina, those words would only ruin the rest of my day, so I choose to keep them to myself. But man, I can’t stand her right now.
Despite the countless times she’s supported me, and my unwavering willingness to go to great lengths for her, it doesn’t stop the uneasy churning in my gut whenever I see her slip into editor mode, her face a mask of intense scrutiny.
A notification chimes and my eyes dart to the phone resting next to my arms, which are crossed on the table. My fingers move on impulse but stop right above it when my eyes don’t recognize the red phone as mine, but Gina’s.
“Who’s Derek?” I retract my arm.
She whips her head to me, and then looks at her phone just in time to see the message before the screen turns off again.
“Just some guy I met at a book launch party. Nothing serious.”
“There are two heart emojis attached to his name.”
Her lips open, quiver, then close again. “Can you let me focus here?”
“Not until you tell me who Derek is.” Her phone dings again, and a teasing smile spreads across my lips. “Look, he’s texting ag—”
My heart sinks as I double-take at the notification. It’s not a message—it’s a blog post, and the bright red headline in all caps is jarring. A storm rages through my chest as my eyes move over the headline again, much slower this time.
‘EBB BAND SET TO RETURN TO NEW YORK.’
My hands grip the phone before I can even think. “Can you open this for me, please?”
She looks at the phone briefly, her eyes barely on it. The phone clicks open, and she turns back to her system immediately
Suddenly, I lose the ability to understand what I read. As my teary eyes scan through the post, it’s hard to ignore the drumming in my heart. My attention shifts to the wall as I realize it’s futile to try to understand anything past my blurred vision.
I snatch my head away as Gina turns to me, and my fingers wipe my eyes fast enough to evade suspicion.
“You should see what I’ve done with the paragraph now.”
A light scoff escapes my dry throat painfully as I lean against the table again.
“See, it’s much simpler and still within the word count.”
I slouch my shoulders and drop my head in an attempt to fight the tears stinging my eyes. “Whatever you say, boss.”
For the rest of our meeting, I’m mostly silent, slipping in and out of my thoughts as I struggle to remain composed.
But it’s too much, too soon. As soon as I think I finally have clarity. I’m plunged into confusion and doubt again.
“Can you finish up without me? I need to head home now.”
My purse is already on my lap, and my hands are ready to push me off this ridiculously uncomfortable chair as Gina raises her head to me.
“All of a sudden?”
“I just realized there’s something I left unattended.”
She shakes her head. “Yeah, sure, you weren’t much help anyway.”
“You’re such a darling.” My voice is bland as I strap my purse over my shoulder and head out.
The drive home is noisy, and most of the noise is in my head.
When did this happen? Why didn’t he tell me? Is he leaving? Was that a troll? What’s going on?
The questions are repetitive and annoying as they plague my mind, my blood boiling from the frustration of being unable to answer any of them.
My car stops, and I’m shocked to find myself in front of Brian’s house. As I look up, a light flickers in his living room and a shadow moves past the curtain.
Good, he’s home.
I jump out of my car, slamming the door behind me. My knuckles pound on the door so hard that they hurt when I drop them.
It takes a moment, but he finally opens the door.
“Jessica, hey.”
“Hi.”
“Come in.”
Our feet are in lockstep as he turns around and we go into the living room. My eyes fall right on the suitcases that are arranged next to the armrest of his sofa. One is left open on the couch, wires spilling out.
“What are these?” My piercing eyes don’t flinch.
He places a hand on the back of his head, shrugging, his other hand resting in his pocket.
“I was getting ready. I’m sure by now you’ve heard. I’m—”
“You’re sure by now I’ve heard? I honestly can’t believe you right now.”
“I was gonna tell you, but it was all over the news before I could decide. It’s a marketing strategy, and I didn’t have time to tell you about it.”
“You didn’t have time? You are unbelievably selfish.” The words are harsh. I know I strike a nerve from how his face twists with pain, but I deserve to be angry, much more than I reveal in this moment.
When he doesn’t respond, I turn around and dash out the doors, not bothering to return to my car.
I can only hold back my tears for so long.