Chapter Twenty-Seven
VIVI
The game was brutal. I didn’t mean to watch, but there I was, curled on the couch with my laptop open, pretending to work while secretly streaming the Hawkeyes feed. The announcers didn’t hold back:
What the hell is going on with Hartley tonight?Worst game of his season.Coach Haynes can’t be happy about this.
My stomach sank with every missed pass and heavy hit he didn’t return. Whatever he was feeling out there, I could feel it here.
I push away from the counter, coffee in hand, intending to disappear into my office for the rest of the day when my eyes snag on the dry-erase board by the kitchen door.
The columns are still there.
REASONS TO MARRY JAMESONREASONS TO STAY WITH TREY
I stare at Trey’s messy handwriting under his side of the list—little things he’d added, teasing, knowing it made me smile. I pick up the marker without thinking. My chest aches, but my hand moves anyway, writing the only thing that matters. I write it in big, bold letters:
I LOVE HIM
The words blur for a second before I know I just need to get out of the house and head into my office. The one that Jameson got back for me five days ago. Everything put back in its rightful place.
I walked into the office with Virginia practically burning Martin's nameplate he covered over mine. She had my office looking exactly as I had left it by the time I walked in that morning.
Of course, I marched her down to HR that very minute and did what I should have done before I got kicked out of my CEO position.
I told them to give her a raise and that she is the new client concierge.
Her job is to make sure that account managers are doing their best for our clients, and if they have any requests for other services or anything we can do to make their lives easier, she’s there to make sure it happens.
But she’s still at the reception desk when I walk in this morning, training her replacement.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say as I walk by Virginia and the new hire, about whom I have a really good feeling.
“It is a good morning isn’t it?” Virginia says back as I walk down the hallway to my office, taking a deep, happy breath.
Home at last.
But it doesn’t feel quite the same as it did before. And not because Martin tainted it.
In my office, I sink into my chair, fingers tapping absently on the desk, when my phone buzzes.
Yvanne: Thanks again for coming to the bridal shop with me two days ago. Was it weird? With everything on pause until you hear from Jameson?
Vivi: No. I’m over the moon for you. That dress is going to be gorgeous for your wedding next year.
There’s a pause, then…
Yvanne: Have you heard from him yet?
Vivi: Jameson? No… but I’ve been so busy getting my office back on track, I haven’t noticed.
It’s a lie. I’ve been holding my breath every time a text notification comes through.
A knock at my door pulls me out of my thoughts. Virginia pokes her head in, practically glowing. She’s been on cloud nine since I walked back into the office five days ago, after Jameson fired Martin.
“Cullum Lawson is here to see you,” she says, bright and chipper.
“Great. Send him in.”
I stand, smoothing my skirt, and come around my desk to shake his hand.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Anything for Hartley,” he says easily, then glances down. “Finally, he put a ring on your finger. Guess Hartley’s not as stupid as he looks.”
I blink. “I’m sorry…what?”
“He proposed, right? Between you and me, I thought he was going to propose that night on the helicopter the way he talked about you.”
“Engaged…to Trey?”
“Aren’t you?” He tilts his head, like he’s genuinely confused. “The man’s in love with you. Pretty much told me you were the one without actually saying it. He said you were out of his league. But you know Hartley…he’s not great with words.”
“Right…” My voice comes out slow, dumbfounded.
Callum smiles like he hasn’t just detonated my afternoon. “Well, how about a walking tour? I can show you the plans for your new security systems.”
“Callum…my security clearance last week…” I start, giving him a chance to say it without me accusing.
He grins. “Trey told me to keep an eye on you no matter what happens to him. Matter of national security, he said. When your brother pulls in a favor like that, you don’t ask questions.
He and John extracted me and my unit out of one of the deadliest nights I’ve ever seen.
They were told to turn around, and they disobeyed orders to get us out.
I owe him my life and the lives of five other men. There’s no favor he can’t ask.”
He leans. “Might have hacked into your systems last week…maybe.” He winks.
“Cullum, last thing. My current security team. They’ve been loyal to me…”
“No problem. With a little training we’ll have them up to par. No one gets let go—I understand.”
Callum leaves me with a thick folder of blueprints, a list of installation dates, and a head still buzzing. I walk him out, exchange polite goodbyes, and then shut my office door behind me.
The room feels too quiet.
I sit back at my desk, but the spreadsheet open on my monitor blurs. My brain keeps looping over his voice.
The man’s in love with you.
Told me you were the one.
Trey, who hasn’t called. Trey, who pushed me toward Jameson with a cool, steady voice, as if we’d been nothing but a passing fling. Trey, who, apparently, went out of his way to make sure someone he trusted had eyes on me no matter what happened.
I press my fingers to my temples, trying to make sense of it. He didn’t tell Callum he loved me. Of course he didn’t. But Callum’s the kind of man who reads between the lines for a living.
The clock on my desk ticks louder than I remember it ever doing before. I force myself to answer three emails, skim through a vendor proposal, and sign off on payroll. It’s busy work—just enough to keep me from spiraling out of control, but it doesn’t work for long.
By the time I shut down my computer, the sky outside my office windows is streaked with pink and gold. The building is quiet on the eleventh floor. Virginia slipped out an hour ago, humming under her breath about date night.
I grab my bag and pause at the doorway. Scanning the hallway of empty offices and an empty front reception. My life is back in place, but the feeling of loneliness settles over me during after-hours.
It should feel like enough.
Instead, all I can think about is a man who isn’t here, the little girl I should be going home to make spaghetti with and braid hair before bed for, and the three little words I scrawled on a dry-erase board this morning like a confession I’ll never be brave enough to say out loud.