Chapter 24
Monday arrived like it always did, too early, too bright, and with the particular cruelty of a day that demanded you return to reality after a weekend that had felt like a dream.
I had dragged myself out of bed. Caspian had made it worse.
Not intentionally. He had just stood in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame, watching me brush my teeth with that lazy expression he got in the mornings, and said nothing.
But his eyes had followed me the whole time.
When I turned to leave, he caught my wrist and pulled me back for a kiss that made me seriously consider calling in sick.
"I have to go," I said against his mouth.
"You have to go."
"I'm already late."
"You're always late."
I pushed him but he didn't move.
"Caspian."
"Carter."
I kissed him again. Quick, firm. Then I grabbed my bag and left before I could change my mind.
I put my headphones in and left for work.
The subway was fine except for the usual Monday crowd, which I didn't mind anymore. I was humming by the time I reached the office.
I stood in the elevator, smoothing my blouse, trying to reassemble the competent professional I had been before a certain someone decided to ruin my sleep schedule and my concentration.
Soft music played through my earphones. Something instrumental, calming. I watched my reflection in the brushed metal doors. Light blouse. Dark trousers. Hair pinned up. The same small earrings I wore every day.
But something was different.
I tilted my head. My cheeks had colour. My eyes were bright. There was a softness to my face that hadn't been there before — a quiet contentment that lingered even on a Monday morning.
I looked pretty.
The thought made me smile. I caught myself in the reflection, smiling at myself like a fool, and looked away before anyone could see.
The doors opened.
The office was the same. Grey carpets. Fluorescent lights. The low hum of computers and quiet conversations. I walked to my desk, set my bag down, pulled out my phone, removed my earphones.
"You're late."
I jumped.
Sienna stood behind me, arms crossed, expression unreadable. She had a talent for materializing out of thin air.
"Traffic," I said.
"You were late three times last week."
"I had a day off yesterday." I straightened my stack of papers. "I had some things to catch up on."
Sienna sighed. Barely audible, but from her it was practically a resignation letter. She turned toward her office.
"My office. Now."
I followed.
The glass door closed behind us. She stood behind her desk, hands flat on the surface, and looked at me for a long moment. I braced myself.
"The Arclight revisions were good," she said.
I blinked. "Thank you.....?"
"Better than good." She pulled a file from the stack, scanned it. "You're more competent than I gave you credit for."
I didn't know whether to thank her again or defend my previous competence. I stood very still and waited.
"The client specifically requested that you handle the next phase."
"That's great."
"I'm not finished."
I closed my mouth.
"Your work has improved significantly. You're more focused. Your presentations are better. You're not making the mistakes you were making a few months ago." She closed the file. "Whatever has changed, keep it."
I stared at her.
It was the most she had ever said to me. The most she had ever said to anyone, probably. And something about it, the unexpectedness, the sincerity buried under all that ice loosened something in my chest.
"There's a person," I heard myself say. The words came out before I could stop them. "They came into my life like a storm. Unexpected. Unplanned. But very, very undeniably present. And... it's everything. My apartment feels like home."
Sienna looked at me. Something in her posture shifted. Almost imperceptibly.
"A man," she said.
"How do you know?"
"Your eyes," she said simply. "Twinkle in them."
I felt my face warm. I pressed my lips together, trying to contain the smile threatening to break through.
"Where did you meet him?" she asked.
"A bar."
She looked at me like I was the most ridiculous person she had ever encountered. I rushed to fill the silence.
"He's not like Oliver. Not at all. Not even an inch."
"Oliver is a coward," she said, like it was a fact she had filed away long ago.
"He always expects more from others than he gives. He did the same on the last project, dumped his work and blamed the intern when it went wrong." A pause. "Most men take. And when they find something better, they leave. They come back when they want something."
"He's not like that," I said.
She looked at me for a moment. Something flickered in her eyes.
"Good for you," she said.
She slid a folder across the desk.
"The Johnson account. Yours if you want it, but only after you nail Arclight."
She leaned back. "More responsibility. More visibility. More money. But it will require late nights, weekends, the kind of commitment that doesn't leave room for much else."
Her eyes met mine. "Think about it. Don't answer now."
I nodded and took the folder. At the door, I stopped.
Something about the way she had said it — buried under all that ice, but there made me think of my mother. Of people who showed care in ways you had to learn how to read.
I left before she could see my face.
I sat at my desk, the Johnson folder in front of me, my phone in my hand.
Me: Do you think people change?
The reply came after a few minutes.
Someone Very Important: Sometimes. Why?
Me: Just because.
Someone Very Important: Just because? Liar.
I stared at the screen. Oliver, promising to love me even if I was a worm. Anne, who I had considered family. Both of them had changed. In ways I still didn't fully understand.
Someone Very Important: You're thinking too loud again.
I smiled despite myself.
Me: How do you always know?
Someone Very Important: You text me when you're on the train or when you have something to ask. You bite your lower lip when you're in deep thought. You bounce your leg when you're in a good mood.
I caught my reflection in the dark screen of my desktop. I was biting my lip. Damnit.
Me: Tell me honestly, have you implanted a hidden camera somewhere? I should check my clothes and bag before I leave from now.
Someone Very Important: Check carefully. I'm very good at hiding things.
I laughed. The woman at the desk next to me glanced over. I ignored her.
Me: I'll find it.
Someone Very Important: You won't.
Me: You're very confident for someone who lives in my apartment rent-free.
Someone Very Important: I cook.
Me: Fair point.
I set my phone down and tried to focus on the files in front of me. But the day felt impossibly long. Mondays had thirty-five hours instead of twenty-four.
I was deep in a spreadsheet, music low in my ears, when a voice cut through.
"Hey."
Oliver was standing at the edge of my cubicle, hands in his pockets, face arranged into something that was probably meant to look apologetic.
I stood immediately. Scanned for an exit. The pantry. I would go to the pantry.
"El." He stepped closer. "Can you just let me explain? Please. Just once."
I grabbed my coffee mug and walked.
"Please, El!" He followed. "Just hear me out once!"
I turned with a huff.
And stopped.
He was wearing the watch.
The Cartier. The one I had saved three months for. It sat on his wrist, catching the fluorescent light, and he looked completely unbothered by it.
I could smell his cologne from here.
Caspian didn't wear cologne. But he had a scent— something warm, something clean, something I had started to recognize in my sheets, in my clothes, in the air of my apartment.
Oliver took my silence as an opening.
"I made a mistake," he said. Soft. Practiced. "I know that, baby. Better than anyone. It was a moment of weakness. You're the only one in my heart. What we had— all those years— you can't just erase that...!"
I turned and walked toward the pantry.
He followed.
"You're not even going to look at me?" His voice sharpened. "Breaking up over something like that? After all those years?" A pause. "Grow up. You're not getting younger. Nobody would want you."
I stopped and turned.
"Then I'll sleep with my teddy," I said.
"Happy? Now go find Anne."
"Who is he?"
I blinked. "Come again?"
"Who is he." His jaw was tight. "You're always smiling at your phone. Texting someone. How could you move on so fast? After all those years?" His voice cracked. "Did you even love me?"
The pantry door opened.
Anne stood there, something flashing behind her eyes before she smiled.
"Hey, guys! It's been so long—"
I walked out.
I wanted nothing to do with either of them. They could stay in there for all I cared.
I don't know how the time passed after that. Emails, spreadsheets. The Johnson folder watching me from the corner of the desk. The clock crawled until finally, finally, it hit the hour.
I was out of my chair before the numbers changed.
I Grabbed my bag, my coat, the folder. Didn't look at anyone. Didn't stop.
The subway was crowded. I stood with my hand around the strap and my head against the window. I couldn't remember what I had been humming this morning.
I had been so happy. The weekend. The cake. The way he looked at me.
And they had to ruin it. Of course they did.
Oliver with his watch and his voice and his nobody would want you. Anne with her smile and her hey guys like she hadn't destroyed something I had spent years building.
I walked home faster than usual. The stairs felt longer. The hallway felt longer.
When I opened the door, he was already off the couch and crossing toward me.
His eyes moved over me — the folder in my hand, the set of my jaw, the coat I hadn't taken off yet.
"You didn't text at your usual time," he said. "Everything alright?"
I set the folder on the counter. Dropped my bag. Let my coat fall.
"I had a good day," I said. "Then it turned bad."
His jaw tightened. "Two someones?"
I nodded.
He didn't say anything. He stepped forward and I stepped into him and his arms came around me and I let myself fall.
I stayed like that for a while. Long enough for the tightness in my chest to loosen. Long enough for my hands to unclench from his shirt. Long enough to remember that this was here. That he was here.
I started nuzzling into his chest without meaning to, my face pressing into the fabric of his shirt, and a chuckle left me.
"You make such a good body pillow," I mumbled against him.
His chest rumbled. "Body pillow. Seriously. That's the best you can give me."
I tilted my head up. "And a cook! You should open a restaurant. You won't be broke after that."
He looked down at me, something warm in his expression. "Feeding one mouth is more than enough."
I smiled. He reached down and picked up the folder.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Promotion. If I want it."
"Do you?"
I leaned against the counter looking at it.
"I don't know. More hours. More responsibility. But I have time to decide."
He took the folder from me and set it aside. Then he pulled me back against his chest, his chin on top of my head.
"Think properly," he said.
I closed my eyes.
"Mhm."