Chapter Thirty-Five
Thirty-Five
What seemed like a brilliant idea twenty minutes ago feels like an act of absolute insanity now that I’m in the Taskio lobby. What exactly is my plan here?
I briefly imagine it, letting the scene play out in my mind’s eye. I approach his desk and say hello here I am, I have turned up without an invitation to tell you I love you, only for him to look through me and go: sorry, I’m just about to get on a call.
I quake at the thought, but don’t stop moving. If Connor wants to send me away, fine. But he’s going to have to look me in the eye to do it.
I swipe Carrie’s keycard and slip through the barriers with my sunglasses on and my head down.
I feel like a fugitive on the run. It’s a completely unnecessary precaution, as it turns out.
I ride the elevators alone and make it all the way to Data Strategy without a single person even looking up as I pass.
My heart sinks when I round the corner. Connor’s desk is empty. The only two people here are Martin and John, side by side with their backs to me, living in their own little universe, as per usual.
Martin jumps when I place a hand on his shoulder.
“Jesus, Annie! Always with the jump scare.”
My lips twitch. “Sorry.”
“Hey, Annie,” John says, greeting me like a long-lost friend. His brain catches up with him a few beats later. “Hold on. What are you doing here?”
“Uh, looking for Connor,” I say, scanning the horizon, just in case he’s hovering nearby. Maybe he saw me coming and ducked. “Do you know where he is?”
They both go completely silent, blinking at me, then blinking at each other.
“I guess you haven’t heard, then.”
Oh god. “Heard what?”
“Connor quit.”
I goggle at them both. “I—for real?”
“Yeah. He sent out an email to the whole company telling everyone to go fuck themselves and then stormed out, middle fingers in the air.”
I’m struck dumb. “You’re not serious.”
“No, I’m not,” Marty says, smiling. “I’m surprised you fell for that.”
I give a little halfhearted hah. It speaks to my incredibly agitated mental state that I didn’t even question it.
“He did quit, though, that part he wasn’t kidding about,” John adds.
“So Connor’s not here?”
John shakes his head. “They put him on leave straightaway.” Then adds darkly, “He knows too much.”
I turn on my heel. “OK. Gotta go.”
“But you just got here,” he says, incredulous.
Marty says something else, but I don’t catch it. I’m already jogging away.
—
I puzzle over the bewildering news that he’s quit all the way to Brooklyn, the subway car screeching and churning on the tracks beneath me.
Connor worried I was going to blow his life up, and it’s hard to deny now that that’s exactly what I did.
I never thought I’d see the day he left Taskio.
What could have happened between then and now? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.
I surprise even myself with the lengths I am willing to go to to get to Connor, slipping past the doorman behind a delivery guy and into the elevators before I’m seen.
But outside his apartment door, my courage fails me.
Showing up at my ex (colleague? boyfriend?)’s work is one thing (insane), but showing up at his home is another altogether (extra insane).
It’s too late to do anything about it now. I steel myself, force a smile onto my face, and then knock.
The door swings open—but it’s not Connor I come face-to-face with.
It’s Ben.
That’s weird.
“Well,” he says, his smile mischievous. “What do we have here?”
“Hey, Ben.”
“Could you hear your ears ringing, Annie?”
So they’ve been talking about me. By way of signs I can’t tell if this is good or bad.
“Uh, no,” I say, my stomach hollowing out. “I just came to talk to Connor.”
“Right this way,” he says, turning down the hallway. I shut the door behind me and follow a few steps behind. I make it into the living room just in time to hear Connor absently ask Ben what got delivered.
A week away from Connor has done nothing to dim his appeal.
He looks so impossibly handsome I feel like crying.
He’s sitting on the sofa in a gray T-shirt, practically folded over the computer resting on his lap.
His hair is wildly disheveled. With one hand, he scrolls along the touchpad. His chin rests on the other.
“Nothing,” Ben tells him. “We have a visitor.”
He glances up at this, clocking my presence and then reeling back.
Not a great start.
I give a pointless little wave. “Hey.”
He turns accusing eyes on Ben. “You can’t be serious.”
Ben holds up his hands. “I had nothing to do with this, I swear.”
My heart sinks through the floorboards. Connor does not want to see me.
“He didn’t,” I confirm. “I went by the office to talk to you and the guys said you quit. So I came here.”
“Right,” Connor says, dazed.
Beside me, Ben is what I’d describe as an extremely not-passive observer; all the man needs is a bowl of popcorn. I look at him like want to chime in here? His smile only grows. Freak.
“Anyway,” I say, my eyes darting back to Connor, “I can see this is probably not a great time, so I’ll just…” I trail off, pointing back toward the door.
“No, you stay,” Ben insists. “It’s me who was just leaving.”
Connor shuts his computer and stands. “I thought we were going to—”
“Nope. We’re not. Ask her,” Ben says cryptically, swiping his own computer off the coffee table and slinging it under his arm. “Annie, I will see you very soon.”
“Uh, OK? Bye, Ben.”
His footsteps retreat down the hall, and then there’s the click of the door shutting.
It’s even quieter now that we’re alone.
Neither of us says anything. Connor has always been so friendly, so open, so endlessly willing to put up with my shit. Am I on the other side of that now? He feels closed off in a way that scares me. I’m worried it’s already too late.
I clear my throat. “Ask me what?”
I watch him weigh it up, then decide against. “Why are you here?”
Right. It was never going to be that easy.
“I came to say sorry,” I tell him. “And to tell you I’ve learned my lesson, the hard way. And to promise you I’ll never, ever interfere with anything ever again.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure I want this apology.”
I don’t get it. “Why not?”
“You interfering is a good thing, Annie,” he says. “Or, it is when you don’t go straight for the nuclear option. You always fight to fix things. I wouldn’t change any of that about you. I love how much you care about your people. I just wished I was one of them.”
My heart clenches.
“OK,” I say. “Then let me rephrase. That’s not actually what I’m apologizing for.”
“OK…”
“I’m not sorry about leaking the news to Product, or that Andy made Brad look like a dickwad in front of everyone. He is a dickwad. We don’t even know for sure if he has a computer! I think Andy was right to give him hell.” He opens his mouth, then closes it.
“This is a weird apology.”
“It hasn’t started yet,” I insist. “Like I said, I’m not sorry for trying to save my friends from losing their jobs when Brad was going to pull the rug out from under them. I’d do all that again.
“What I am sorry for is how I handled things. With you. Losing my job and losing you: those two things don’t even compare. That you could think for one second that I don’t care about you, that you’re not the number one thing I care about, just tells me how badly I fucked everything up.”
I’m rushing to get the words out now, like I’m a podcast on 2x speed.
“I love you, Connor. I love you at can’t-sleep-at-night levels.
It was not supposed to be like this. Falling in love at work is a bad idea!
But I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.
I know I made a huge mess of things, and I understand if after this conversation you never want to see me again, and that would be fair, but just in case there’s a chance that you do, then I just want you to know that I think you’re amazing.
Like so, so special. The best person I’ve ever met, actually.
And if you ever want to give me the chance to make it up to you, I would really like to do that. I already have a few ideas.”
Connor doesn’t react at all. It’s silent except for the roaring in my ears.
He clears his throat.
“What are the ideas?”
My heart soars. I hold out.
“No. Your turn. What did Ben want you to ask me?”
He shrugs. “If you wanted a job.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointed. “Um, that’s sweet of him. But I think my Taskio days are done.”
“Oh, not at Taskio. Sorry, didn’t I mention? He quit too.”
“BEN QUIT TOO?”
His mouth twists. “Why is it that whenever I tell you something, you’re way more surprised about Ben?”
I could cry with the relief of Connor’s gentle teasing, the dumb way he razzes me up about everything. I want to get down on my knees and beg him to make fun of me every day, forever.
“Sorry,” I say, trying to keep it together, to see this conversation through, when all I really want to do is launch myself at his chest. But I don’t know my rights; he hasn’t said I’m forgiven. There’s no mention of him loving me.
“Here I was thinking you’d be surprised that I quit.”
“I’m more than surprised. I couldn’t believe it when Marty told me. I thought—or I don’t know, I was worried it had something to do with me.”
“It did,” he says simply.
I close my eyes, and swallow. How much trouble did I get him into?
“I’m sorry, Connor. But whatever it is, it’s probably not too late to undo it. They’re going to fall to pieces without you there. You can call them and negotiate, make it better.”
“Can I say something now?”
What I see in his eyes when I finally open mine sends my heartbeat into a gallop. He steps in closer, gently reaching forward to catch my hand.
“After the all-hands last Thursday, I was mad at you. And then I was just really mad at myself,” he tells me.