16. He said, “There’s someone else.”
16
He said, “There’s someone else.”
Zach
Paperless office, my arse.
The leather chair groaned when I leant back to survey the damage.
My desk was ground zero. The in-tray in the corner was a long-lost memory, buried under the piled ruins of contracts and client files long ago. My electronic filing system was worse. My inbox was nothing but red flags, and Sue had plastered so many yellow sticky note reminders around my monitors they resembled a kindergartener’s craft project of a rather gloomy sun.
How had I ever seen this mess as a badge of success? It used to be proof I had value and was worthwhile, but these days…
These days…
Everywhere I looked was just more work .
Frustrated, I torpedoed my pen into a lopsided mountain of papers, an avalanche of white spilling over the desk. I couldn’t concentrate. My mind twisted in a loop.
Eden… Eden… Eden.
How could I focus on soulless concrete buildings when the delicate whirl of her perfume had faded from my bathroom? There were never leftover crumbs to wipe up anymore, and nights were sleepless, never-ending, hopelessly wishing the shadows on the ceiling would blot out the nightmare I’d invented. I tortured myself for hours imagining Eden pinned under the rugby player, moaning her encouragement in his ear, urging him to “Come… Please come…”
I tossed my glasses on the desk and pressed my palms into overtired eyes.
Personal lives stay personal.
I needed to shake this…didn’t I? My career, twelve years of my life, teetered on the brink of collapse, and Eden was with the rugby player. Sam. The internet gossip said they were ‘dating.’ Nothing punched me in the gut quite like seeing the woman I loved smiling for the cameras while hanging off the arm of another man. But when I peered closely at the photos of her, I knew that smile. Polished. Perfected. Fake. Not my Eden.
She hadn’t blocked me again after El Diablo Cantina. Sometimes, she’d even responded to my goodnight messages or the silly meme I’d flicked her during the day. My chances of winning her back were still in the toilet, but she hadn’t flushed me totally out of the picture. A one percent chance was still a chance. And I wouldn’t waste it.
But things needed to change.
Now.
I pushed back the chair and yanked my briefcase out from under the desk. I’d already made a decision that morning. When I’d rolled out of bed, I’d chosen to take the wooden frames off the nightstand, and now, I swept aside a pile of contracts to put the photos on my desk instead.
The first was of my parents, smiling back at me, all loved up on their fortieth wedding anniversary. I let my eyes linger longer on the second photo of Eden and me at her birthday party. My lungs filled up with sunshine. I breathed a little easier with reminders of why I came to work every morning.
My shoulders squared. I picked up my pen. I got back to work.
“Knock, knock!”
Sue didn’t wait for me to answer before heading into my office. A pile of folders crashed onto the desk. A wrapped sandwich dropped unceremoniously on top, but she used more care to plop the coffee in front of me. Was it lunchtime already? Time had a habit of slipping away once I got busy.
“I’ll start printing off those letters as soon as I’m back from Pilates—” Sue froze. “Are you deliberately trying to piss off Chris?” She jerked a nod at the frames on my desk.
I downplayed it with a quick wave of my hand. “It’s just a couple of photos.”
Sue snorted. “Tell that to Riley Rodriguez.”
“Who?”
“Exactly.” Squinting, she bent over to peer at the photo. “Is she the little lady who chargrilled your roses?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”
“She looks…familiar.” Sue’s grey brows pinched together. “Wait, wait, wait.” She snatched the frame and studied the birthday scene. “Your Eden is Eden Phillips?”
“Yeah.” I sounded love drunk, and I didn’t even care.
“Huh. I thought she was dating Sam Simmons.”
I grunted. “He wishes.” Maybe. One percent.
Sue neatly arranged the frame back on the desk. “Zach, hon.” Her smile was uncertain. “She’s real pretty. A good sort, too, from the stories I’ve heard about how much time she puts in helping kids living rough. But are you sure you want to risk pissing off the boss?”
“This won’t affect the promotions.” My voice wavered. I didn’t sound so sure.
Sue didn’t look so sure, either. “You’re close. People want to see you succeed this time.” Her hand landed on my shoulder. Squeezed. “Think it through.”
I was still staring out the window five minutes after she’d left, weighing up the options, my mind ticking through the pros and cons.
I made two more decisions.
The photos stayed.
The next decision was long overdue but probably going to bite me on the arse.
With a weary sigh, the weight of my collapsing career heavy in my bones, I pushed off the chair. It was time to see how much more I could risk in one day.
Michaela’s office was on the other side of the floor, but the walk through the winding, busy corridors was still too quick. I paused to take a deep breath and then tapped my knuckles on the glass. Michaela’s eyes stayed locked on her computer screen as she stuffed a bite of sandwich in her mouth. I guess I wasn’t the only one who worked through lunch.
I took a tentative step inside. Michaela always wore too much perfume, and an overdose of floral clung to the walls. My empty stomach retched. I didn’t take another step. It was safer to hover close to the door and keep as much distance between us as possible, anyway.
I cleared my throat.
Her eyes darted across the room, brows popping up. “Daafght a shamoth?”
I rubbed my jaw. I wasn’t exactly fluent in Mouthful of Chicken Sandwich.
Michaela chewed frantically and grabbed the glass of water by her keyboard. “Sorry!” She gulped down a couple of sips and flashed me a sheepish smile. “Did I forget a settlement?”
I shook my head.
“Oh.” Her hand fluttered around the desk to swipe a tissue. She dabbed at her mouth and then balled the tissue in her fist to point it at the empty chair across from the desk. “Do you want to…?”
Sit down? No way. I wasn’t staying. I shook my head again, standing rigid by the door.
What do I say…?
I should’ve written some notes down on palm cards or planned an agenda. I wasn’t good at impromptu deliveries of bad news. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, eyes dropping to examine an invisible scuff on my shoe.
“Zach, don’t be nervous.”
I flicked my gaze back to Michaela.
“I’ll save you the angst,” she said. “I accept.”
“You…?” Accept what?
“Drinks. Dinner. Dessert.” Her laugh was almost breathless. “But I know you prefer indulging in the last option at my place.” She attempted a wink but didn’t quite stick the landing.
No. “Ah…” Absolutely not.
My mind screamed at me that the conversation was already derailing, hurtling towards oblivion, so why was I standing there, saying nothing? I needed to find my voice. I needed to find my spine . I couldn’t have the remnants of this—God— arrangement hanging over my head or ruin my one percent chance with Eden.
“You need to stop,” I said.
Thin brows knitted together. “What?”
“You need to stop. We work together. We—”
“Fucked.” She smiled innocently. “In case you forgot.”
I sighed. “I wish I could.”
Michaela’s spine stiffened. The comment hit her harder than I realised it would. “You want me to stop showing an interest in you?”
I nodded. “There’s…someone.”
Michaela stared at me, not blinking. “Someone.”
“Someone special.”
“How special?”
“I’m in love with her.” Relief painted a smile on my face so big it hurt my cheeks. It felt so right to admit my feelings for Eden aloud.
Michaela’s arms folded across her chest, her fingernails drumming against the sleeve of her blouse for a few beats before she dug them into the fabric. “You’re in love.”
“Yes.”
“Since fucking when?” She spat out the words, her voice pitching up with anger.
One step, and my hand was on the door. A soft click, and it was closed. No one else needed to hear this—for Michaela’s sake, as much as mine. Personal lives stay personal.
“Michaela, you need to understand that Eden—”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Eden Phillips! You’ve only known that social-climbing bitch—”
“Watch your damn mouth.”
“Zach, you met her a week ago!”
“I met her nine months ago.”
“What?” Michaela ran the math, lining up the dates in her mind. “Nine months? But…that’s right after…” She slumped in the oversized leather chair until she almost disappeared.
She’d figured it out. Nine months ago, I’d ended it with her. The day I’d first seen Eden at Brew HaHa.
No one existed in the world except for Eden from that point on. It hadn’t mattered that it took me another month to suck up the courage to peel myself off the coffee shop wall and move to the front. My courage had earned me my first smile from Eden. A month later, I’d earned a heap of smiles and a first date. And another month after that, I’d made love to her all night long…and the next morning…and after lunch.
The only decision I regretted was hooking up with Michaela. Four times too many. Nights in Michaela’s bed had left me hollow. I’d walked out of her place even emptier than when I’d walked in. A shell. Every time with Eden had fed my soul. Lifted me up. Made me want to move mountains. Corny, but true.
Michaela’s eyes widened. How many of those thoughts could she see playing out on my face? Enough to make her smack her palm on the desk and stand up.
“I don’t want casual,” she said.
I sighed. Old ground, and I had no interest in stomping in that void of regret again.
“Zach, I never really wanted casual. Not with you.” She started pushing out from behind the desk, but I raised my palm to stop her. “We’re good together. We make sense.”
“We make zero sense,” I said. “Just yesterday, you felt the need to remind everyone in the boardroom I drove a bloody Toyota Corolla when we went to university. I was never ashamed of that car, but you seem hell bloody bent on making sure I am. You still want to tell me how we’re great together?”
“You’re going to be a partner soon.”
“Oh, so suddenly I’ll be good enough for you?” I laughed. “I still come from Campsie. My parents still live there. We didn’t all grow up in mansions on the northern beaches, Michaela. Maybe you could bring it up at the next division meeting? Have a good laugh about it?”
“I never meant to make you feel bad.”
“Like fuck you didn’t.”
She bristled. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
“Pardon?”
“How else could I get you to notice me, Zach? You’ve got tunnel vision. The only thing you care about is work. You don’t see or hear anything else.”
“You say those awful fucking things to me to get my attention?” I laughed. “Michaela, come on. You said that garbage even after you started seeing Chris.”
She laughed even louder. “Newsflash—I’ve been screwing Chris for years, Zach.”
Shock jerked me back a step.
“Yeah, that’s right, golden child. Years .” She lifted a stubborn chin. “And what choice did I have? I started in this firm the same time you did. A few months earlier, actually, considering you chose to yack all over the floor trying to do good in the world first. I work the same hours you do. I settle the same deals you do on the financing side. Yet, you got promoted to senior associate two years before I did.”
“I deserved that promotion. I worked my arse off!”
“Me too. Me fucking too. And until I sucked Chris Stone’s dick, I was never going to get the same opportunities as you. Not just this firm but any firm.”
“I’m sure that’s not true—”
“Where are the women partners, Zach? Fucking nowhere . I used whatever advantage I had to even the odds, but when Chris put a ring on the doctor’s finger, it ended my chance for promotion in this firm.” Her fists landed on her hips, and she blew out a long, steadying breath, stamping down her anger. “That’s not your fault. You’re not like that, and I love that about you. You’re going to be an excellent partner.” Her smile was thin. “In and out of work, you’re an excellent partner.”
“Not with you.”
“We’re good together.”
I shook my head. “There’s no together . No us . No me and you .” My hand curled around the door handle, and I pushed it down, ready to leave. “I’ll treat you fairly, Michaela, but if you ever drag my name again because of where I came from, or if you say one damn thing about Eden, you can guarantee you won’t be a partner under my watch either.”