27. August
27
One week earlier - (Three days post Harper in his office)
M y hands shook over the keyboard of my laptop at Finnigan’s. I ran them over my face again and took a swig of my third glass of ice water.
Fucking numbers were blurry.
Finn approached me. “It’s officially noon, you want a real drink?”
My friend had been gracious enough to open early for me while he did inventory and other shit that bar owners did in the early hours of the day. I told him I’d make it worth his while. I don’t think he imagined I’d hand him a grand, but when I did, he didn’t fight me on it.
There was no other place I could go to get some work done. No place I could concentrate. If there were such a place in the universe.
“No thanks. These numbers are blurry enough without alcohol in my system.”
“Bet the lighting in here isn’t helping.” He hinted without flat-out asking me why I wasn’t going to my office.
“I’m good,” I murmured, rubbing my eyes, and slipping my glasses back on.
“Didn’t realize you wore those.”
“I’m usually in contacts.”
“Prescription could be wearing out. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked again.”
I squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the charts in front of me. “My eyes are fine. I just keep seeing something else…”
Finn scoffed. “Dollar signs?”
“A face.”
Finn nodded and left me alone for an hour or so. Then moved a dish over to me.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“No, but you should probably eat. A shave wouldn’t hurt either.”
Annoyed, I looked up from my computer. “Should I just call my mother and have her finish this lecture for you?”
Finn didn’t flinch at my tone. “You talk to all your friends like that?”
The ache in my chest returned at his question. The hurt and disbelief on Harper’s beautiful face from the words that flowed out of my mouth before I could think. The wall I’d built around my heart doing all the talking, keeping everything I wanted to say locked up.
This is who I am .
And you deserve better.
If only I added those last words, I could have made it hurt less.
I spent the last week convincing myself I wasn’t wrong. When Harper told me she’d known for a while, all the nonsense my brother made earlier that night suddenly made a whole lot of sense.
Why else wouldn’t you confront me?
“Sorry, Finn. Yeah, actually I do talk to quite a lot of people in that tone, so don’t feel left out.”
Finn shook his head. “I never feel left out. I’m always surrounded by people I care about because I treat them with respect.”
He walked away to take care of new customers and I stared at the food he’d put in front of me. “Hey Finn, can I get this to go? And maybe a ginger ale?”
He seemed satisfied that I wasn’t tossing it and packed up the food for me.
“Mr. Hartman,” Debbie practically jumped out of her chair. “I’ve canceled all your meetings for today, I thought—”
I put a hand up. “It’s alright. I’m still not seeing anyone, need to catch up on a lot of work. And please, it's August , if you don’t mind.” I offered her a small smile.
Her expression was empty as she blinked. “August.” She shook her head as if that wasn’t going to work well for her.
I handed her the bag Finn packed for me. “Grilled chicken salad and ginger ale.”
She nodded sharply. “Okay, where is this going?”
“It’s for you, Debbie.”
She took the bag tentatively. “Thank you. I’ll put a do not disturb note on your door, and again, I am so sorry about the lady who—”
“It’s fine.” I wanted to tell her that if this lady came back, to show her right into my office even if I was in there with the CEO of Google.
But I knew better.
Harper wasn’t coming back.
I felt her slip away permanently the minute she walked out of my office. And the look on her face—the look that was far worse than the one I remembered from five years ago that daunted me—made me think I might have made a colossal mistake.
“I’ll be working out of the conference room at the end of the hall. In the meantime, I need you to—can you please find me a new office?”
She blinked again, glancing across the hall at my double-doored office. “There are two empty offices, but they’re not—”
“Can I see them after you have lunch, please?” I stalked away before she could ask questions.
Thirty minutes later, Debbie found me in the conference room and showed me to the first empty one. A small, unpainted single door opened to a miniature office. It had one modest window facing another building, an empty desk about half the size of mine and two guest chairs. There might have been room for a two-seater sofa if I so chose, but not elegant enough to see big clients.
“This’ll do. Please have maintenance move all my stuff in here by Monday.”
She was quiet as I walked around the space, getting situated.
“Sir, is there something wrong with yours?”
“Yes.”
It’s where I broke her heart .