Chapter 38
I leave my phone off and in the break room with the idea that if it’s out of sight and out of mind, I won’t spend the day moping about Reeve.
This strategy works until lunchtime, when the dining room serves gnocchi, and the smell of oregano and garlic bread sends a wave of fresh grief through my body.
From there, it all goes downhill.
When I check in on Mrs. Hail, she’s blasting “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now.” She holds out her hands and says, “Come and dance with me, darling. It’s just a slow one. I think you can handle it.”
I can’t handle it. I think of Reeve and New Year’s and that single perfect kiss, and I have to excuse myself to cry in the bathroom and then tell everyone my red puffy eyes are from allergies.
As the hours creep on, I keep picturing what he’s doing and what he’s thinking.
My thoughts become so intense—so vivid—that when I spot Reeve in the lobby standing by the elevator, I think he’s a hallucination.
His dark suit is rumpled. His hair is a mess of wild locks.
He’s unshaven. The last time I saw him like that was the night we first met, and that memory makes me want to run the backs of my fingers along the scratchy texture of his jaw.
But before I move, the door to the main office opens, and Sunnyvale’s manager, Roy Taylor, steps out.
He greets Reeve with a booming “Mr. Baldwin,” and I realize this is no delusion. Reeve is actually in my lobby.
I duck into the stairwell before he can see me.
I slump down on the stairs as the tears return. It’s no grand gesture.
My hollow sobs bounce off the empty walls. They echo through the stairwell, so I don’t hear Zoe until she sits beside me, holding out an open foil bag. “Cheeto?”
I shake my head. Zoe reaches inside and pops an orange puff into her mouth, then wipes her hand on her scrubs, leaving a streak of orange powder behind. “I heard you had a rough night.”
I lean against her shoulder as her arm comes around me.
“I guess no one’s buying the allergy excuse?”
Her hand makes small circles on my back. “No. I think the early April pollen might be working in your favor. But I talked to Reeve this morning. When he couldn’t get a hold of you, he called me. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you?”
The question makes the tears come even faster.
Zoe lets me cry with no further explanation needed until I compose myself enough to take a full, deep breath.
“I just feel so stupid, Zoe. I really thought he—” I can’t even finish the sentence. The sob that rips through me seems to get stuck in my throat, and for a moment, I worry I’m going to vomit.
“You know I have your back always,” Zoe says. “No questions asked. Would bury a body, take a bullet, drive off a cliff holding hands in a cute little Miata, all in the name of friendship, right?”
I nod, still not quite able to speak.
“Reeve told me about Mansfield and Sunnyvale. After I told him in perfect anatomic detail where Mansfield could shove their offer, he told me Howard went behind his back. Reeve only found out it was happening a few hours before you did. He was going to tell you everything, but you caught him by surprise when you decided to go to the party, and he ran out of time.”
I shake my head, the scene from outside still fresh. “If that’s true, then why is he in the lobby right now, talking to Roy Taylor?”
Zoe’s eyebrows scrunch. “I don’t know. What I do know is that he drove up here last night because he was worried about you, Jules. He must be talking to Taylor about something else. You know me. I do not give people the benefit of the doubt.”
The sound of a vibrating phone interrupts us. Zoe pulls it from her pocket. I see Reeve’s name on the screen before she hits decline. A moment later, a text notification flashes.
Reeve: Did you find her? Did she get home okay? Make sure she doesn’t sign until she’s talked to me or her lawyer. Mansfield won’t buy Sunnyvale if they can’t also get her property.
Zoe tips the phone so I can see it. “I really think you should talk to him.”
I shake my head, the panic climbing my throat again. “I just don’t think it’s going to work out, Zo.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” I recite the laundry list of reasons I’ve ignored all these weeks. “I’m never going to sell to Mansfield. Reeve isn’t going to get his deal. Which means he’s in Toronto and I am here in West Lake for the foreseeable future. Stories like ours, they don’t work out.”
Zoe crumples the empty foil bag in her hand. “Okay…” She draws out the word. “I think you need to talk to Reeve about those first two reasons. As for the distance…we are living in a beautiful age, Jules. We have the internet, and, more important, we have sexting.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Zoe narrows her eyes as if she is trying to figure me out. “Can I run a different theory by you? It’s just a hunch.” She shifts her body around to face me. “I think you’re afraid that if you get any more invested, he could really hurt you.”
Her words hit the tender spot between my ribs. “It’s not like it’s an unfounded theory.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice as I think about Reeve and my mom—and even Kitty.
Zoe tips her head, her temple touching mine. “I’d like to think there is someone who has shown you that if you put your hope in the right person, you will end up with a soulmate who will always love you no matter what bonehead choices you make or how much you try to push them away.”
A single tear slides down my cheek, catching on my chin before it falls and absorbs into my shirt.
“That person is me.” Zoe pokes me with the butt of her elbow. “If that wasn’t super clear. I will always and forever have your back, Jules. You deserve to be loved.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her head to my chest. Despite the awkward angle, she stays, letting me cry it out into her hair.
When I finally let her go, she wipes a tear-soaked strand from my cheek.
“You also deserve a lifetime of orgasms, another reason why I strongly suggest you call him or, better yet, go find him.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I—”
My thought is halted by the banging of the stairwell door above us.
I freeze, expecting Reeve to somehow come down the stairs, but it’s just a voice that calls out.
“Ms. DeMarco, are you down there?”
Nurse Bouchard.
Zoe slowly gets to her feet, motioning as if she wants us to make a bolt for the door, but I answer. “Yup, I’m here. What’s up?”
“It’s Mr. McNaught. He isn’t in his room, and he’s scheduled to go to Port Logan for his doctor’s appointment at four. Would you locate him and ensure he’s prepared to leave on time?”
I nod and say, “Yup, no problem,” shaking the stiffness from my legs and getting to my feet. I hug Zoe one last time before heading back into the now empty hallway.
Mr. McNaught may not be here, but I have a strong suspicion I know exactly where to find him.