5. He didn’t say, “I’m in over my head.”
5
He didn’t say, “I’m in over my head.”
Zach
My head throbbed, a tight band squeezing around my skull. Words on the computer screen blurred. Two aspirins hadn’t helped. I was never shaking this headache…or my damn desk.
How had Chris talked me into taking on another contract? I’d stood up for myself—my team—and yet, somehow, I was sitting in front of a mountain of new work, about ready to gnaw my own arm off because I was that hungry, and the finish line was further away than ever.
Hunching over the laptop, I massaged the pain spearing through my temple and scrolled to the next page of the contract.
A tap against my shoe dragged my attention from where it needed to be. Frowning, I glanced down. The tip of a black stiletto. Rapid blinks made my office flicker back into focus.
Michaela’s hip was propped against my desk, her head tilted.
She’s still here?
I flexed my hand, stretching stiff fingers that had been clawed over the computer too long, careful to school my frustration under a blank expression. The coffee was a nice gesture, I suppose. It’d been a long day of too much work and too many meetings—and far too much Michaela.
She’d been hovering around me all day. She’d been put on notice that she’d been relegated to one of the many women Chris had on the side instead of being his main event—if the quips I’d heard in the men’s room were true.
I’d been shocked that other people in the office knew about their fling. I hadn’t even been able to process that a man I deeply respected was apparently acting in such a shameful way behind closed doors. But I wasn’t Michaela’s babysitter or the security blanket she could pull out when she needed a dopamine hit. Been there, done that, didn’t want the T-shirt.
Was she ever going to piss off and let me finish my work?
“Zach?”
“Oh, um… Yeah.” I waved my pen, shooing her away. “Sure. Whatever.”
Squinting through the pain, I focused my attention on the screen. Where was I? Right. Page twenty-six. Elevator maintenance. I scanned the contractor’s pricing and scoffed out loud.
Not bloody likely.
I clicked into my notes and started typing a reminder to renegotiate those bullshit terms, but—
A gasp jerked into my lungs before I stopped breathing altogether. My spine stiffened. The smell of earthy coffee was doused by the burn of too much floral perfume. A sharp breath heated my neck. And then…icy fingers gouged my shoulders. Massaging.
No.
Michaela had her hooks in me.
Absolutely not.
I jerked out of her grip. “What the hell are you doing?” I scrambled to my feet so fast the chair spun.
Her eyebrows squished together. Her hands froze in midair. “Helping you relax.” She said it like she was surprised I was questioning the insanity of what was happening in my office.
I barked a laugh. “I don’t think so.” Three quick steps, and I was at the door. “Out.” I pointed to the corridor.
Almost smirking, Michaela cocked her head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly.”
She didn’t move. I stared at her, eyes widening every beat she challenged my gaze. What the…? Scowling, trying to ignore the vice tightening behind my eyes, I glanced around the office. Her jacket was slung over the spare chair in front of my desk. When the hell had she taken that off? Obviously, I’d missed the memo that she planned to stay.
I leant over, snatched the black wool off the back of the chair, and held it out to her. “Out.”
Open-mouthed, Michaela stared at me before shaking off her surprise with a laugh. “Oh, come on, Zach. Even you can make time for a little fun—”
“Out!”
Michaela stomped over and snatched the jacket from my hand. Her unspoken “Fuck you” was punctuated by her slamming the door so hard the frames on the wall rattled out of place.
I nudged each of the certificates back into a neat line and collapsed into my chair. The mug stared back at me. Frowning, I shoved the coffee away, propped my elbows on the desk, and buried my face in my hands.
I knew her bringing me a coffee was bullshit. She hadn’t done a nice thing for me in months…other than moving on to Chris. How long was I going to keep paying for my lapse of judgement? Forever, at this rate.
I was too distracted to focus on the contract I should’ve finished reviewing hours ago. Even if words turned from fuzzy to legible and I marked that one contract complete, there were dozens more waiting—a never-ending hamster wheel of work. I was sinking. Fast. Gasping for life in a sea of paperwork. The only thought dragging my head above the worries I was drowning in was Eden. It felt like a lifetime since she’d smacked my arse and sent me out the door to work this morning.
Shit.
My eyes searched the clutter on the desk for my phone. I hadn’t messaged Eden back. I’d promised her that I’d get better at keeping in touch, but tonight, her timing couldn’t have been worse. Michaela had been too close. Personal lives stay personal. No one could know about Eden. Not my boss, who still looked at me like he was worried my sanity would snap any second. Certainly not Michaela, who was probably only using me as a tool to coax Chris’s attention back on her.
Screw this.
I snapped the laptop shut and pushed away from the desk. Shrugging on my jacket, I typed a quick message to Eden on my phone.
Zach
It’s a wait-up night. xo
Exhaustion sunk like concrete in my bones. Barangaroo wasn’t far—maybe ten minutes from the business district—and it was quiet this late. No tourists. Almost no traffic. Usually, the walk was a circuit-breaker between the grind and home. My listening skills were piss poor, but the walk helped me to at least manage a smile by the time I opened the front door.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
A dopey smile spread across my face.
Please be Eden.
For the first time in months, I might make it home early enough for her to chuck on the new TV show she’d been raving about. I was six episodes behind, but I remembered enough of the characters’ names to keep up as she gasped through the latest twists and turns.
I glanced at my phone. Not Eden. Michaela. I stopped dead in my tracks. A taxi screeched to a halt in front of me, and I waved a quick apology at the driver as I jogged to the other side of the street.
Mac
Can I tempt you to reconsider?
I snorted so loud a woman walking on the street whipped a frantic look at me before hurrying to the other side.
What the hell was Michaela playing at? Why wasn’t she taking the hint?
I’d already hit the red cross to delete her message when my phone buzzed again. Reflex dragged my eyes down to the screen.
“Shit!”
A dry retch of shock jolted through me, and my phone flew out of my hand, plunging face down into the gutter with a crack. I didn’t care if the screen was smashed. If I never saw that photo again, it’d still be too soon. A shudder rippled over my skin.
Naked. So much... naked .
I bent over, my hand shaking as it curled around my phone. Fighting the puke burning a path up my throat and one eye squeezed shut—as if that somehow limited the possibility of seeing anything I shouldn’t—I frantically jabbed a finger at the screen until Michaela’s photo disappeared.
Gone.
I’ve never typed a message so fast.
Zach
Mac, this is a work phone. Keep it professional. First and last warning.
My finger hovered over the block button. Should I? Could I?
Michaela was on the financing side for most of my clients. How much of a shitstorm would start thundering if I deleted her or if I took it a step further and refused to work with her altogether? It was a no-confidence motion. She’d be in Chris’s crosshairs, and with his engagement announced, maybe she was already treading through risky territory. He might be looking for an excuse to fire her and keep the drama to a minimum. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d fired people for a lot less.
Sighing, I shoved my phone back in my pocket.
I’d worry about how to get rid of Michaela tomorrow.
I eased open the front door. A smile cracked the frown off my face. Eden’s boxes were gone. She’d unpacked.
Day thirty-four.
Finally.
Every light in the apartment burned. Chuckling, I followed my usual routine, wandering through the rooms, flicking off the switches, and searching for Eden’s final hiding spot for the night. My hand hovered over the switch in the bedroom. This was the last room, but…
Where was she?
I walked through each room again, ducking into the ensuite to use the bathroom. I paused. The vanity was spotless. The potions Eden used for her bedtime skincare routine were missing. My stomach plummeted when my gaze landed on the cup with only one toothbrush in it. I forced a smile and tried to brush the dread away. She’d probably gone on one of her cleaning frenzies. She did that sometimes. Usually, the day or two before her period, but that wasn’t due yet…was it?
I swallowed heavily, not sure if my skin was burning up or freezing cold, and tugged a hand through my hair.
Where was she?
I was overreacting, getting myself worked up over nothing. Eden was okay. She was probably out with the girls and lost track of time. It was Friday night. Yvette was constantly scoping out new nightlife around the city. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dragged Eden and Andie out to a club at the last minute. Yeah, that was probably what happened.
I sent Eden a quick message.
Zach
Miss you, Denny Dee. Let me know if you want me to pick you up. xx
I waited. No blistering reply. No little dots.
Anxiety wound so tight around my chest I struggled to breathe. I tugged off my tie and tossed it on the kitchen counter as I walked to the fridge. I grabbed one of the fancy juices Eden kept stocked on the top shelf, twisted off the lid, and swigged a sip. My foot hit the pedal for the bin. A flash of colour caught my eye. Brows furrowed, I bent over.
The remnants of ripped photos sat on top of Eden’s uneaten toast crusts from breakfast. Photos of her and me that had been stuck to the fridge with colourful fruit magnets when I’d left for work this morning. A panicked look darted to the fridge. All the photos were missing. So were the magnets.
Adrenaline pumping, fire igniting tired muscles enough to run, I rushed back to the bedroom. Not even bothering to snap on the light, I threw open the door to the closet. Empty clothing rails. I yanked out every drawer. Eden’s were empty. My heart slammed against my ribs. Sweat clung the cotton business shirt to my skin.
This…this isn’t…happening.
Eden’s clothes were gone.
The throb of my headache split through my skull.
Was Eden pissed off that I didn’t answer her messages quickly enough? Maybe I’d forgotten I was meant to be somewhere. It wouldn’t be the first time…or even the fifth. Work piled up, and chasing my tail to get on top of one email ended up being a cycle of ‘just one more’ that lasted for hours on end. But she understood how important this promotion was to me—to us—didn’t she?
The apartment spun. Forcing one step in front of another back into the kitchen was almost impossible. My eyes stung, but my heart was obliterated. No matter how many breaths I tried to force in, none reached my lungs. I braced my hands on my knees.
And that was when I saw it.
The fluffy cat keychain on the kitchen counter.
My heart twisted. My stomach quickly followed. The juice was out and on the floor in seconds. I couldn’t pretend anymore.
Eden was gone.
And she wasn’t coming back.