Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Trinity
“Are you sure you want to be here?”
My coworker and friend, Genevieve, gives me a concerned look as she sips her coffee from the chair on the other side of my desk. Which is also kind of her desk because she was moved into my job a couple of months ago, but Gloria is letting us share the job for now.
“I have three months’ worth of catching up to do. And I can’t get a moment of peace at my apartment, anyway.”
There are a handful of reporters and photographers who have made it their mission to take photos of me and shout questions at me every time I go in and out of my apartment. I’m grateful for Gideon and Brielle, the bodyguards who switch off escorting me everywhere. Linc hired them because of Ronan, but I need them to fend off not just the reporters but also people I pass on the street who recognize me and take photos.
The story of our rescue is everywhere . I have a new phone, but I keep it set to silent and only use it for phone calls and texts because social media is overwhelming in every possible way right now.
“You need to come stay with me,” Genevieve says for at least the fifth time.
“Then they’ll just wait for me outside of your door.”
“They’ll have to go through me first.”
“I missed you.” I set down the latte she brought me a few minutes ago. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t drink this. I’m not used to this much sugar anymore.”
She waves a hand. “No worries, I’ll ask you what you want next time.”
It’s my second day back at the office. After two days in the hospital in Seattle, my mom drove me home and stayed with me for three days. She cooked my favorite foods—pasta carbonara, steak and even a chocolate cheesecake—and we binge-watched shows from my couch.
I haven’t gotten to see Karma yet because he’s back at my mom’s staying with one of her friends. But the time alone with my mom was better than any time I’ve ever spent with her. She didn’t fuss over my apartment and I wasn’t petty toward her. It seems like we both know now that life’s too short for any of that.
“I can’t believe these numbers,” I tell Genevieve as I look over the sales figures for Allura’s first two full months of sales. “They’re above and beyond anything I anticipated.”
“You had all the pieces in place.”
I laugh off her compliment. “No, this was a team effort. I had myself convinced the launch couldn’t be successful if...well, if a hundred different things . But you guys did an amazing job.”
“I’m not keeping the job,” she blurts. “This is your job and I don’t want you to think I just swooped in and took it. I cried every day of my first week in this office.”
I smile and meet her gaze. “I’d never think that. The show must go on.”
“Well, it’s your job and your office. There are openings on Patrick’s team; he already said I can have a spot if I want it.”
“Let’s not talk about that yet.”
“Okay, but can we talk about you being trapped in a cabin with a hot hockey player? Was there only one bed?”
My cheeks warm and she squeals with excitement. “I knew it! Tell me everything.”
The two of us have always shared all the details of our lives with each other, but for some reason, I feel protective of every moment I’ve spent with Lincoln. It wasn’t salacious or even about sex. We needed each other.
And now it’s over. I think about him constantly, especially when I’m lying in bed alone at night. I’d trade the bed in my heated bedroom to be back in the cabin’s bed with him in a heartbeat. I miss the feel of his strong arms around me, the wind whipping against the cabin’s walls. The sound of him groaning when he’s about to come. The feel of his chiseled chest behind my back in the bathtub, his hands roaming over my bare skin.
How could I possibly put all of that into words Genevieve would understand? I don’t even understand it myself—I just feel it, deep inside.
“Later,” I tell her. “I seriously have so much work to catch up on.”
“Gloria doesn’t expect you to catch up on three months’ worth of work in a matter of days, you know. Be gentle with yourself.”
I glance at my phone screen, hoping to see a text from Linc. Nothing.
We’ve texted a few times and had one awkward phone conversation because my mom could hear me talking to him and I was guarded. He’s been traveling with his team since.
“Are you okay?” Genevieve asks me, her tone laced with concern.
“Hmm?” I tuck my phone back into my bag. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Are you, though? You just don’t seem like yourself.”
I shrug and sigh. “It’s harder than I thought it would be to get back into my old routine. I don’t know if my meds are built up enough in my system to be effective yet.”
When the doctor in Seattle put me back on my anxiety medication, I nearly cried with relief. I was managing my anxiety as well as I could with meditation and deep breathing, but it was still there. I know the medication is at least helping me because I don’t feel as on edge as I did when I first got home.
I’m still not the same, though. I keep waiting to wake up one morning and feel exactly like I did before Alaska—excited about the workday ahead, thinking about my plans for the weekend.
It’s Friday, and I’ll be spending this weekend alone in my apartment. All the friends who have reached out to me since I got back just want to talk about the plane crash and the cabin. I understand their curiosity, but they ask questions I don’t feel ready to answer.
“How can I help?” Genevieve asks.
I smile softly. “I don’t know. Just listen when I need it, I guess. I appreciate you asking.”
“Let’s hang out this weekend. We’ll do whatever you feel like.”
I think about it for a few seconds. “Yoga might be nice. And maybe breakfast after at that place with the huge pastries.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
“My mom is flying back on Sunday to bring Karma home.”
“Oh, Karma.” She puts her palm to her chest. “How much have you missed her?”
“I can’t wait to see her. She’s my snuggle buddy.”
An intern knocks on the office door and then opens it, her gaze going straight to me when she walks in. She wasn’t working here before the plane crash, and she stares at me like I’m a sideshow oddity.
“Miss Lorenzo, you have several phone messages.” She passes me the slips of paper.
“Do we not do phone messages over email anymore?”
“Oh, sorry. I thought you didn’t have an email address anymore.”
I nod. “You’re right, my fault. Thanks for these.”
The IT department shut down my email address after my memorial service. Linc and I weren’t declared legally dead, which would have created a ton of red tape to undo. Dalton said the rescue team wanted to wait until the snow thawed and then resume searching for our bodies.
“It’s pretty morbid being presumed dead,” I murmur when the intern is gone.
“I can’t even imagine.” Genevieve gives me a sympathetic look.
I rub my temple, fighting the urge to check my phone again for a text from Linc. As difficult as it is, I have to find a way to get back in my old groove.
“Can you go over the financial presentation from last month’s board meeting for me?”
Genevieve grins widely. “Financials, my favorite! I thought you were going to want to do something boring, like cut out of here for chips, queso and margaritas.” She shivers. “I’d much rather talk profit-and-loss statements.”
I shake my head, smiling. “What if we multitask and you tell me about it over the queso and margaritas?”
She lights up. “Done!”
We make our way out of the office, my coworkers not so covertly staring at me as we walk by their cubicles.
“Can I help you with something?” Genevieve snaps at a woman whose mouth is hanging open as she watches me.
The woman quickly turns away and resumes her paperwork.
“Idiots,” my friend mutters.
She puts her arm through mine and gives me a reassuring smile. What would I do without her? I already miss Linc so much; it’s all I can do not to break down and cry in my office. It’s going to take time for me to find normalcy again, and it won’t be the routine I’ve come to crave with Linc.
Maybe it’ll never be like it was before. Maybe I’m different now, and I’ll have to find a brand-new normal for myself. I hadn’t gone a day without serums, cleansers, moisturizers and cosmetics in years when I ended up stranded without access to any of them. I felt naked at first, like my bare skin wasn’t really me anymore.
And while I’ve loved every second of my hot showers with foaming soap and the thick, rich moisturizer I apply since getting home, I had to force myself to put on makeup before I came to the office today.
The things that are important to me have changed. Unfortunately, something that’s become deeply important to me is a tall, dark-haired hockey player who lives in another state.
I reach into my bag and wrap my hand around my phone, itching to call him and ask if he misses me, too.
But I don’t. He has my number. If he wanted to call, he would.
At least I have Genevieve. And soon Karma. And of course, queso and margaritas. I’ll be leaning on all of them as I find my new normal.