Chapter 20
The next two days are free of meetings, which I’m grateful for—I can’t stand breathing the same air as Tim, especially in the same room. Not much for me to do since the graphics revisions he asked me to improve, and I haven’t received any emails with more tasks.
Friday finally comes, and with it the opportunity to meet up with Wendy at a local Starbucks across the street from my apartment.
“It’s a nightmare,” I say to Wendy. “Complete with office politics from hell, sabotaging coworkers, and an ex-boyfriend-turned-boss who vanished after telling me he broke my heart to save my career.”
Wendy’s eyes soften behind her cherry-red frames as she reaches across the gleaming tabletop, her warm palm covering my fidgeting fingers. “I’m sorry everything feels so terrible. I’d feel exactly the same way if I were stuck in your situation.”
Her glasses slip down her nose, and she nudges them back into place with one finger. “What we need is comfort food—serious, soul-healing carbs. And it’s absolutely on me!”
The menus sit between us, its pages filled with tempting descriptions of pastries that could momentarily erase workplace drama.
My stomach betrays me with a low rumble.
Despite the stress throttling my appetite lately, implementing those graphics had sparked a tiny flame of hope—maybe I could uncover Tim’s scheme against Jake before it’s too late.
Wendy’s company only fans that flame brighter, her genuine concern like a life preserver in this sea of corporate sharks.
Sitting in this nest of warmth, I let myself absorb the café‘s ambiance. Rich, inviting aromas dance through the air—dark-roasted coffee beans mingling with the sweet kiss of caramel and toasted nuts.
When I close my eyes and inhale deeply, something inside me temporarily unknots.
“Earth to Sarah,” Wendy says with a gentle smile. “Ready to order?”
My head bobs in agreement while my stomach finally growls. “White chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream and one of those blueberry muffins,” I declare, my mouth already watering in anticipation.
Wendy slides from her chair and heads to the counter, her cardigan swinging cheerfully against her back.
My thoughts circle back to Jake like stubborn satellites unable to break orbit.
His absence has carved a strange hollow in my days—a silence growing more noticeable, not less, with each passing hour.
The certainty that Tim and Amanda are plotting something sinister gnaws at me, but proving it remains frustratingly out of reach.
Bearing gifts of caffeine and carbs, Wendy returns triumphantly. Steam rises full of flavor from our oversized mugs.
“Thank you,” I say.
Wendy initiates our toast. “To better days at work and villains getting their comeuppance. Always.”
I cock my head. “Isn’t that from The Mummy?”
Wendy smiles. “You know your movies.”
“I know my Brandon Fraser.”
Both of us giggle, and after we clink our ceramic mugs together, she takes a contemplative bite of her muffin before fixing those perceptive eyes on me. “Let it out. I know you’re itching to say something.”
“I still can’t believe I ended up on Tim’s team,” I say while absently stirring my mocha, creating a mini whirlpool.
“They’ve made ignoring me an Olympic sport, except when they need someone to boss around.
But Tim assigned me real work the other day—implementing campaign images.
It could be my way in to figuring out what he’s plotting with Amanda. ”
“I wouldn’t put anything past those two,” Wendy agrees, brushing crumbs from her fingers. “Did you uncover anything suspicious?”
The disappointment must show on my crumpled face. “Not yet—but getting work assigned is a start. And then there’s Jake,” I confess quietly. “Radio silence for days. It’s like he evaporated.”
“He’s been walking around looking like someone stole his puppy,” Wendy says. “Maybe he misses you, too.”
That small possibility warms me more than the coffee ever could.
When our cups stand empty, Wendy slides her cardigan over her shoulders. “You’re stronger than this temporary nightmare, Sarah. You’ve got this—things will get better.”
My nod comes with a small smile. “Thanks for listening. I needed this more than I realized.”
Together we push through the glass doors, greeting the wall of humid heat that defines Arkansas summers. We pause on the sidewalk, and Wendy pulls me into a fierce hug. “No matter how messy this job gets, remember you’re not fighting alone.”
I squeeze back, gratitude tightening my throat. “You’re a lifeline in this chaos.”
As Wendy walks toward her sensible hatchback, I make my way to my apartment, mentally preparing for another lonely evening of overthinking. Once inside the building I dig in my purse for the keys.
“Sarah?”
I look up to see Jake standing by the mailboxes, holding a pile of letters.
My heart sings at the sight of him—a wild, erratic rhythm I haven’t experienced since our first summer together as a couple.
“Hey, Jake,” I manage, forcing my voice into a casual register that belies the earthquake happening inside my chest. No need to let him know I’ve been counting hours since his disappearance.
Jake’s smile emerges slowly, hesitantly. “How have you been?”
“Surviving,” I answer with a half-shrug. “You?”
He stands before me, mail clutched in one hand, as if searching for the right words. “I owe you an apology,” he finally says. “I should have told you earlier.”
What he did for me—sacrificing his reputation, claiming my work as his own to protect me from his uncle’s fraud investigation—sits like a stone in my throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.
The resentment I’d held onto for four years, the anger I’d used to barricade my heart, has dissolved into a raw, unbridled urge to cross the hallway between us and fall back into everything we once were.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask.
“I didn’t really know how to deal with it.” His shoulders slump forward. I’ve only seen him look this defeated twice in my life: during his video confession, and now.
Shaking his head, he continues, “And I was convinced you wouldn’t come back here—that you’d stay in New York and start a career, probably meet a great guy. I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”
My feet carry me toward him. “You can’t just assume things and make decisions for me. The right thing to do was to let me choose for myself.”
“I should have done a lot of things differently,” Jake admits, his blue eyes full of regret.
“Will you come back to your apartment?” I don’t want us to be strangers anymore. Four years of silence and distance have carved enough emptiness between us to last a lifetime. But pushing too hard might shatter whatever fragile bridge we’re building across this chasm.
Jake’s gaze drops to the floor. “I’ve done enough damage here,” he replies.
Hearing those words from his lips cuts deeper than expected, like a paper cut on an already bruised heart.
My job at Lanter Bridge teeters on a precarious edge; I don’t want to stay on Tim’s team with their whispered plots and exclusionary tactics.
But I understand—Jake wants a fresh start away from the drama our history created.
“Jake, I know it’s my fau—“ I begin.
“How is it going on Tim’s team?” The deliberate subject change hangs obvious between us. If he doesn’t want to discuss our relationship, I won’t force the issue.
Pulling my shoulders back, I try a different approach. “They’re up to something,” I tell him, leaning forward. “I think they’re trying to hurt you in some way.”
Jake brushes off my concern with a half-smile. “Don’t worry. It’s always been this way between me and him. Just a friendly competition. They wouldn’t risk their own reputations like that.”
“I’m serious, Jake,” I insist, frustration threading through my voice. “You need to be careful and you need to look into it. They are planning something—I overheard Tim at the anniversary party.”
“Sarah,” he sighs, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck. “You’re reading too much into it.”
I stand my ground. “I’m not. I’ve been watching them—how they keep things from me, how they whisper. It doesn’t feel normal.” My hand reaches automatically to him, but I catch myself, stopping mid-air between us.
Jake’s nod feels patronizing. “If they are planning something, let the best man win.”
“Jake—“
“I should get back to work,” he interrupts, glancing at his watch. “The presentations are coming up soon, and we have plenty of prep to do.” He waves goodbye and turns toward the door.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” I call after him.
He pauses at the entrance before turning to face me. “Let it go, Sarah. I know how much this job means to you. Had I been honest with Judy about... never mind. You deserve to be here, and I won’t stand in your way.”
Is that what he thinks this is about? That I’m worried about my own career?
“Jake—“
“See you around,” he says before stepping outside, the door swinging shut behind him.
If Jake won’t listen to reason, then I need concrete evidence of Tim’s sabotage—hard, undeniable proof that even the most stubborn, self-sacrificing man in Arkansas can’t ignore, because I will be damned before I let him fall on another sword for me again.