8. He didn’t say, “I’m sorry.”
8
He didn’t say, “I’m sorry.”
Zach
The boardroom echoed with the restless drum of Chris’s fingers.
“Zach, I’m not angry,” he said. “I suppose I’m…well, disappointed . ”
My jaw clenched. The air in the room was claustrophobic, stale from the scattered coffee cups and untouched pastries, and the tension that sucked the walls closer. But if Chris was waiting for me to offer an apology, he was about to be even more disappointed.
He’d seduced the clients through the door with his movie star smile, a firm handshake, and a fairytale timeframe to deliver what they wanted. I’d served up a heavy dose of reality by telling them how long it’d really take to settle their bullshit deal. No amount of free coffee and movie star smiles undid that kind of damage.
Had Chris expected me to give an obliging nod? Agree to work impossible hours when my universe was collapsing? Probably. There was precedent. I’d done that before, hadn’t I? I’d always worked my arse off to make the firm—him—look good. I’d delivered.
Not today.
Chris’s incessant tapping stopped. “Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I expected too much of you.” He shook his head, a blonde hair spilling across his forehead until he tucked it neatly back into place. “I fooled myself into believing you were ready to step up this time.”
My attention snapped away from the wall. I met Chris’s gaze head-on, even though his words had torpedoed in my gut. “I’m ready.”
“Is that why you just embarrassed me? Yourself? Because you’re ready?”
“I—”
“You’re distracted.”
I couldn’t deny it. I was. I needed to speak to Eden. She’d been dodging my calls all morning. Had she received the flowers? We’d left so much unsaid—
“Distracted.” Chris sighed. “We’ve talked about this. Partnership is a privilege, not a right. You need to earn it—”
“I’ve earned it. I’m the highest fee earner for a reason.”
“Leadership is about more than how much you bill. I pulled you out of the gutter, Zach. I took a chance on you, and yes, you’re one of the best property lawyers in the city, but no one is bigger than the firm. Personal lives stay personal. Don’t make me the monster again. Don’t force me to tell the other partners you’re heading down the same path you were two years ago.”
Shame ripped through me. My eyes, my chin, my whole body just…dropped. “I…”
I couldn’t apologise. I could barely breathe. Did Chris think I’d forgotten the day he’d summoned me to the boardroom? The partners—the people I respected most—had stared down their noses at me, shaking their heads with disgust while he’d presided at the head of this very table, spitting out the long list of ways I’d failed the firm. He should’ve saved his breath. I’d known I wasn’t performing my best. It was no secret I’d let everyone down.
But what other option was there?
Mum’s diagnosis had sent everything off the rails. One day, she’d been pottering around the kitchen. The next, she’d been sitting in front of an oncologist. Breast cancer. Stage three. Dad hadn’t coped. He’d struggled to manage all of Mum’s appointments, her recovery from surgery, and the nights when she couldn’t even keep down water. The chemo had made her so sick . And what if the treatment had failed and Mum had—
Shit.
My hand fumbled for the water sitting on the table. I gulped a few sips, my hand squeezing around the glass, fingertips turning white, my resilience cracking. The script the therapist had taught me ran through my mind.
Count to ten. Count the blessings. Mum’s okay. She’s in remission. Everything’s okay.
The frantic beats of panic slowed in my chest. I loosened my grip on the glass.
When I glanced up, Chris’s lips were curved. I blinked, shaken off-kilter. That couldn’t be right. My mind was playing tricks on me. I blinked again. The smile I’d imagined was replaced with a look of concern.
“S-Sorry,” I said.
Chris dipped his chin in a nod. “Take your time.”
No, no more weakness. Not in front of him. “I’m fine.”
He smiled. This time, it stuck. “Good to hear.” He leant forward, hand reaching out but never actually touching me. “Zach, I’m on your side. You know that. I wouldn’t have invested so much of myself in you if you didn’t have a future here.” His head cocked, thinking for a moment. “Thinking ahead, I’d like you to attend more client events. A couple of networking functions. You need to get your face out there, instead of only being the man hidden behind the desk.”
“Okay.” I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. “I can.”
“And speaking of good impressions… Should I call back the client to let them know we’ve reconsidered our resourcing and can meet their deadline?”
“Ah, y-yes.” I forced a smile. “If you think it’s the best option.”
“Trust me, Zach. It’s the best option for you, too. You’ll see.”
Michaela waved.
Could this day get any worse?
I pretended not to see her and walked even faster down the corridor. She could buzz off. Everyone else, too. I wanted to get back to my desk and shut out the whole damn world, except for Eden.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Michaela snatch an oversized red folder from a paralegal before charging down the corridor after me.
“Hi,” she huffed, struggling to keep up beside me. “Where’s the fire?”
“Under Chris’s arse.”
Her eyes bulged. The man was basically my idol. I never spoke about him in a tone that harsh. “The meeting with the new clients didn’t go well?” She smirked.
I ignored her.
“Hey, we should catch up about the sale of the building on York Street,” she said.
“Everything’s sorted.”
“The buyer had a question about—”
“Sorted.”
Michaela sighed. “Zach.” She ushered me to the side of the corridor and lowered her voice. “If this is about the other night…”
I responded with a raised brow.
“Okay, it is. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Her voice dipped even lower. Michaela knew the firm’s rules. She played by them better than anyone—most of the time. “Everything that’s happened with Chris… It’s hard, and I…” Her smile was thin. “Honestly? I never really recovered after you ended it between us. I miss hanging out with you. I probably should’ve just said so, but it’s hard to break through all the noise with you.”
“No more late-night pop-ins, okay?”
Michaela hesitated a step, not used to me being so blunt, but she nodded.
“And no more photos either,” I said.
“No more photos. Strictly professional in the office.” She tilted her head with a smile. “What about outside the office? Let’s have a drink after work.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Zach, if this is because I used to say we were only casual—”
“Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t do this right now, okay?”
Or ever.
I left Michaela standing with her chin on the floor. I shut the door to my office, yanked the chair out from behind the desk, and collapsed. Finally, I’d returned to the safety of my concrete prison. My fingers flew over the laptop. I’d lost two hours in meetings and had a flood of missed calls to check. I scanned the list and sighed. Eden’s name wasn’t there.
With a frustrated groan, I reached for my desk phone.
“Knock, knock!”
My executive assistant’s timing couldn’t have been worse.
Sue’s bobbed grey hair popped through the gap she’d wedged in the door. “Hey, boss.” She bumped her hip against the glass until there was enough room to wriggle through with a stack of files cradled in her spindly arms. “I rounded up all the leases for the shopping centre purchase.”
“Thanks.” I pointed at the monitor. “Sue, are these the only phone messages?”
“Not enough for you?” She laughed. “Waiting to hear from someone in particular?”
“Eden.”
“Eden…from…?” Sue dumped the pile of folders on my desk. “Is she part of the hotel chain merger? The dickhead with the accent has been calling. He’s waiting .” She rolled her eyes.
“No. Eden. My girlfriend.” The word came out strained. Girlfriend didn’t feel right. Partner? Sweetheart? Soulmate? I ignored the dark whisper in the back of my mind reminding me to add ‘ex’ in front of every option.
“You have a girlfriend?” Sue stopped, her eyes on the ceiling, thinking it over. “Huh.” She shrugged.
Huh?
I’d always carefully followed Chris’s example and mastered keeping my worlds separate. Whatever label was slapped on my time with Michaela, I’d never let it impact our work. I rarely overshared details about my life or blurred the lines, but I must have at least mentioned Eden, right?
“No,” Sue said. “Can’t say I’ve heard from her, but I’ll pop her straight through if she calls.”
“Thanks.”
My eyes flicked between the phone and the red reminders of how much I needed to catch up. Chris’s words echoed in the void. I was so close to all the years of hard work finally paying off. I couldn’t blow my chance…and…well… Eden wouldn’t know I was back from my meetings yet. With a defeated sigh, I adjusted my glasses and got typing. One email was sent. Another. Two minutes turned into twenty.
I was about to hit send on a response to a tree dispute when Sue stuck her head through the door.
“Ah, boss.” Her tone was cautious. “There’s, ah, well…” She grimaced. “There’s a delivery for you.”
Distracted, I kept reading my screen and muttered, “Who from?”
“Eden.”
My head whipped up. Relief shot a dopey grin on my face, and I started scrambling from my chair.
“Hold that smile,” Sue warned, pointing her finger for me to sit back down. “I’ll bring the, er, delivery in.”
An uncomfortable itch of anxiety niggled at me, but I shoved the feeling out of the way.
Eden must have received the flowers I’d sent. She’d realised there’d been a communication breakdown between us, and she was bridging the gap with a thoughtful gesture. She was sweet like that. Always had been.
Maybe the roses hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all.
My finger had hovered over the buy button for an eternity. The same itch of anxiety had whispered in the back of my mind, but no matter how much I’d tried to turn up the volume, I couldn’t quite hear the warning. It had to be paranoia. Eden loved flowers. I’d surprised her once with a hand posy of daisies—small, cheap, wrapped in brown paper, and nothing special—and she’d beamed at me like I’d given her a diamond.
But daisies didn’t exactly scream, “You’re the love of my life. Please come home.” And Mum’s suggestion certainly hadn’t helped.
Mum
Flowers stolen from your neighbour’s yard just because you were thinking about her.
Useless.
My mind had gotten stuck on needing something bigger and better . And you couldn’t get much bigger or better than roses. All the websites said so.
The grimace on Sue’s face told me everything I needed to know. The purchase I’d made at two in the morning would haunt me for the rest of my life.
My jaw dropped.
Sue carried a glass vase crammed with the charred remains of three dozen roses. The blackened tips of the petals were fragile, crumbling to ash as she made her way to the desk. Barely a drop of the red flowers’ former glory still bled through.
“Wha-what happened?” I choked out.
“I’m thinking she set ’em on fire.” Sue slid the vase onto the desk. She gave the roses another look over, her grey brows pinched together. “You sure she’s your girlfriend?”
I battled the sting in my eyes with a clenched fist.
Personal lives stay personal.
This was my fault. I’d blurred the lines, but I refused to bawl like a baby in my office. Everyone always underestimated me. They called me weak and teased me for being shy or reading books. But I was also a grown man. I settled multi-million-dollar contracts every day. Some of my clients had billions. I could sort out some flowers without losing my shit.
“There’s a card, too.” Sue’s slim fingers held out a white envelope.
I hesitated. This wasn’t going to be good. After a deep breath, I took it, flicked off the tab, and pulled out the card. I chuckled. It was a cartoon ginger cat licking its butt with the words, “Giving Zero Fucks.” Another shaky breath. I opened the card. Eden’s looping handwriting spelt out a simple message.
I miss your streaming subscriptions.
I tossed the card on the desk. I wasn’t angry at Eden—her card was genius. The rage was all directed at me. I’d screwed up. Again. Monumentally. Somehow.
I wasn’t risking another misstep. The phone was already in my hand. “Sue, give me a minute, okay?”
She nodded. “Good luck.” Before shutting the door, she muttered, “You’re gonna need it.”
I jabbed the redial button. A few rings bleeped before Yvette’s voice greeted me for the hundredth time that morning.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said. “We thought we might hear from you.”
“Put Eden on.”
“She’s a little busy.”
She hadn’t been too busy to send her special delivery. “I’m going to call back every minute until she’s free,” I warned. “I need to talk to her. No more fobbing me off, Yvette. I mean it.”
Silence.
The awkward echo of nothingness dragged on, and I glanced down at the phone to make sure the call was still connected. A rustle. Some whispers. Finally, I heard the voice I’d ached to hear.
“Did you get my delivery?” Eden asked.
Except that wasn’t my Eden. Eden’s voice was usually high and sweet, melting my insides like butter on toast. The voice talking was ice, so cold and sharp it plunged between my ribs and snicked my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.
“Stop calling here,” she said.
“We need to talk. Not like the other night, Denny Dee. Properly this time. I tried to give you space over the weekend to cool off, but God, everything we have together is worth at least one more conversation, isn’t it? Please .”
“I…” She paused. “Um.”
“Can we meet somewhere? Anywhere.” I didn’t even bother hiding the desperation in my voice. “I’ll do anything. I’ll stop calling. I promise I’m not trying to get you in trouble with your boss.”
“My boss.” The sweet uncertainty in Eden’s voice disappeared, and the arctic wind was blasting back down the line.
Unsettled, I stammered, “Y-Yeah.”
“You don’t want me to get in trouble with my boss. ” The bitter crackle of Eden’s laugh wasn’t a sound I’d heard before. “Yeah, we better not piss off my boss. She’s a real bitch.”
The call went dead.
A growl of frustration bellowed out of me. I smacked the phone down and threw myself back in my chair. Tired eyes searched the ceiling for answers I knew I wouldn’t find.
Even though I didn’t understand why, I knew my call had just made everything so much worse.