Chapter Forty-Nine
Victoria
“You’re not paying attention to me, are you?”
“Of course I am,” I murmur offhandedly, squinting down at my tablet. Amanda managed to drag me out of the analyst’s cave and into the cafeteria for some lunch. I can’t actually remember the last time I was hungry enough to stomach anything other than coffee.
Naturally, she ordered me the most frilly drink imaginable, and I’ve been wincing my way through gulping it down. It’s far too sweet, and foamy, and… everything. But Amanda’s making an effort to connect, which I appreciate.
I just don’t think I’m very reachable right now.
“Really? Because I just recommended I host an orgy with you, me, Asher, and Elio, and you nodded and said that sounds like a great idea.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
Amanda wipes away some foam from her upper lip. “Yeah. So. You want to talk about it?”
I clam up instinctively. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I’ve potentially just given away a very expensive forecasting system to Gaston to help a man who doesn’t want me. Who, like everyone else, prefers another to me.
“Don’t insult me.” She takes another sip of her ridiculous drink. “You and Asher. Did you guys break up? Is that why you look like an extra on the Walking Dead?”
I wince. “Is it really that bad?”
“Worse,” she says sympathetically. “A girl as hot as you only looks as shit as this when she’s heartbroken. What did he do?”
“Nothing. I’m not heartbroken. Everything’s fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Amanda pins me with a dubious stare. “Now the truth, please.”
“That is the truth.”
Amanda’s lips thin. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But you should talk to someone about it.”
I hear the note of pain in her tone when she says me, and guilt instantly suffuses me. Aside from tipping off Elio after our first meet up for coffee, which I believe was a careless mistake, she’s been nothing but kind to me.
“We had a fight.” I hate the way my voice cracks. “He said some really hurtful things and broke it off. That’s it.”
“I always knew he was an asshole, but I didn’t think he was that much of a moron.” Amanda’s expression softens. “I’m sorry. Truly. What did he say?”
I shake my head when I feel tears sting my eyes. Even after the fact, the memory of his words still cuts deep. I can’t stop hearing him tell me that he’s going back to Ethan.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Honestly, I just want to get through the rest of the season, get over my heartbreak, and move on. I want to stay in F1, and I’ve grown fond of Gaston, but I don’t think I can stay on this team if Asher does. Seeing him all the time would hurt too much.
The alarm on my phone goes off, signaling the end of my lunch break. I pick up the disgusting joke of a latte and smile at Amanda. “I have to get back to work.”
“Samesies.” She stands up. “Let me know if you want to get drunk and shit-talk him soon, okay? I’m always down for a good rage-drunk.” She gives me a one-armed hug, and we go our separate ways. She presumably goes off to find Elio, while I sulk my way back to the analyst’s cave.
The rest of the day passes in a dull stupor; I plug away at my computer monitor in silence, going over race data.
Technically, I’ve had full permission to work exclusively on my algorithm during company time for months, but I still do what I can to help out the other analysts, which consists of going over a lot of data and writing up reports on it.
I don’t realize that everyone else has left until my 10pm alarm goes off several hours later.
I guess I’m losing time now, in addition to not sleeping and subsisting on mostly coffee. Whoever invented love deserves to be shot in the head if this is the aftereffect of it.
I power off my monitors and start packing my laptop and tablet into my bag. I’m halfway out of my seat when I hear footsteps behind me. I assume it’s a straggler who left something behind, so I don’t pay it any mind… until a shadow falls over me, and Asher Lawrence parks his hip on my desk.
My breath catches in my throat as I gaze up at him. He’s wearing a black shirt and black jeans—his usual outfit. His shoulders are broad, biceps bulging. He looks like a god peering down at a mere mortal.
A burn prickles at my eyes, just from the sight of him. It hurts to look at him, knowing that—despite everything I did for him—I still wasn’t good enough.
Those days are over. I got him his upgrade package, and that’s it. I’ll request to be transferred over to Elio’s team as soon as I work up the stomach to do it.
“Intern,” Asher says, humor dancing beneath the word.
I swallow hard and straighten. We’ve been in this position so many times. As enemies, as friends, as productive coworkers, as lovers, and now… now, as a heartbroken intern and asshole driver.
“Asher.” I clear my throat. “How can I help?”
His brow wrinkles at my deliberate avoidance of playing into our inside joke. I don’t call him an asshole, even though he is one. I don’t want to start any sort of banter with him. My heart’s already broken; it might disintegrate entirely if I give him an inch.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Here I am.” I spread my fingers. “If there’s an issue in the simulator—”
“There’s no issue. This isn’t about work.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “It’s about us.”
Pain tightens around my neck like a noose. “There is no us.” The words burn on their way out.
Asher’s jaw ticks, but he manages to keep his voice calm. Nothing like the tone he used the last time we spoke, in his hotel room. “Isn’t there?”
“I’m just an intern, and you’re just a driver.” I can’t hide the many cracks beneath the words. I wish, desperately, that they weren’t true. I wish I didn’t go to his hotel—or that I’d gone to him at the hospital—or any scenario that would’ve kept us from having that fight.
“You’re not just an intern,” Asher says, every word steeped in quiet steel.
“I’m also a data analyst by training.”
“Not just that, either.”
“And I’m technically a mechanical engineer by eduction—”
“Victoria.” Asher reaches out, wrapping a lock of my hair around his finger. “You know that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about our relationship.”
“Our relationship is over.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…
“That’s what I want to talk about.” He tugs my hair, presumably to pull me nearer, but I tilt my head back and step away. Being so close to him makes my soul ache. I’m strong, but I’m not strong enough to tolerate losing Asher and having to stand in front of him.
“There’s nothing to talk about. You made your stance clear, and that’s fine. I respect it.” I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Let’s just… keep our distance for the rest of the season, okay? I don’t think we should be alone together anymore.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss. He lost the right to call me that when he said… when he—
“Victoria.” Asher’s eyes are pleading. “I said terrible things. I didn’t mean any of them. I was angry and stuck in a spiral. For a little while, I went back to the man I used to be, but—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. I’m too invested in self-preservation to let Asher chip away at my defenses.
“Sweetheart, please,” he says quietly. “Please, just hear me out. I’m so, so fucking sorry for what I said. I hate myself for it. I don’t blame you for hating me for it.”
“I could never hate you.” My whisper spills out like a sin told to a priest in a confessional. I clear my throat and straighten. “Thank you for your apology. I’m going to go home now.”
Panic flits through his expression. “Victoria, I want to… go back. Go back to us. I miss you so much I can barely fucking breathe—”
“Neither can I,” I snap, losing any semblance of control over my tone.
The tears teasing my eyes start blurring my vision, and any second now, they’ll spill over.
“I haven’t been able to breathe since Miami, Asher.
Or sleep, or eat, or fucking live. You have a chokehold on every morsel of who I am, and I can’t stand it. ”
“Then help me fix this,” he says urgently, stepping forward. “Yell at me. Call me whatever mean names you want. Do whatever you need to, Victoria, but please… don’t end this.”
“You ended it,” I remind him, just as the first tear tracks a path down my cheek. “You passed me up for second best!”
He looks devastated at the sight of my tears. He reaches out his hand, as if to comfort me. When I step back, he curls his fingers into a fist and lowers it. “I didn’t mean it. I was angry, and beneath that, afraid. What I feel for you terrifies me, Victoria. The depth of my lo—”
“Don’t!” I shout. “Don’t say it. It doesn’t matter. You made your decision, and now, you have to stand behind it.”
He loses his battle to keep his hands off me and steps forward, wrapping his arms around me. His touch is gentle, giving me every opportunity to push him away, but I don’t have the strength to.
I cry all the pain he caused me into his shoulder. I cling to him as if I’m clinging to life itself. All the while he murmurs things in my ear that I choose not to hear, and apologizes, again and again.
But when my tears have run dry… nothing has changed. I’m still devastated by him. I still can’t be with him. And, worst of all, I still love him so much it tears me apart from the inside out.
I flatten my hands on his chest and push him away.
“I can’t do it, Asher.” My voice trembles. “I just can’t.”
I don’t want your fucking help anymore, intern.
It’s over. We’re over.
I’m going back to Ethan. You can take your destructive bullshit somewhere else—if anyone will have you after today.
The memory of his words crash into me, plunging me into freezing cold and pitch-black waters. He knew where to push to hurt me the most, and he did so mercilessly.
“We need space… to move on.”
“There is no moving on.” His voice is sullen now.
Almost resigned. “Not for me. There won’t be anyone after you.
” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “How could there be? I spent my whole life afraid of getting too attached or falling, Victoria. I left so that others wouldn’t leave me first. But you…
” he shakes his head. “I didn’t just fall for you, I face-planted and broke my nose on the way down.
You fucking tripped me. I’ve never been a fan of change, sweetheart.
And you…” he shakes his head. “From the moment I saw you, I knew you represented the biggest change of my life. Loving you wasn’t ever a choice, but even if it was one, I wouldn’t change it.
You make me the best version of myself. When I’m with you, it’s like…
” he pauses. “It’s like seeing color for the first time after living in a noir film. So don’t talk about moving on.”
The tears are back now, flowing freely. “I love you,” I whisper. “But not at the cost of who I am. So I have to walk away, and you need to let me.”
His features crumple into a mask of agony. “I won’t stop you. But I also won’t stop fighting for you. You’re it for me, Victoria. You’re my goal. My podium.” He takes a step back. “Take whatever time you need. Do whatever you need. But, when you’re ready, I’ll be here with open arms.”