Chapter 26
ALICE
“It’s a gorgeous piece of property,” Hank (or is it Henry?) says, waving his shrimp cocktail around. “You play golf?”
“No. I don’t.”
He laughs. “Oh, we need to get you out there. Best time you’ll ever have.”
“Mm. I bet.” I take a sip of my soda, wishing I could turn around and walk away from this conversation, walk away from this convention.
Walk away from it all.
The realization shakes me, and I suddenly feel sick.
“Excuse me.” I work up a fake smile. “I’ve just seen someone I need to say hello to.”
Before he can respond to the excuse, I’m slipping away, weaving my way around tables and people dressed in ‘business-casual’ clothing and nodding way too much.
The industry convention, which my new employer Get Fresh is hosting, is a huge one, and it’s not like I’ve never been to something like it before, but for some reason I can’t stomach it today.
Maybe it’s all the people – a few hundred of them – packed into the luxury hotel conference room. Maybe it’s the lack of sunshine and fresh air I’ve been getting thanks to stretching out my work at the new job and staying longer than I need to.
Or maybe I’m finally having that mental breakdown.
I’ve been working too much, pushing too hard. I know it. My new coworkers know it. I can’t seem to stop, though. I need to stay busy. Preoccupied.
Distracted.
Dropping my glass on a tray, I glance around at the event. Still no sign of Oscar.
Is that weird? That he didn’t show up to a conference for the who’s who of our industry?
Maybe not. Not if he’s doing his best to avoid me.
Which is what I wanted, so I don’t know why thinking about it makes me feel like I’m about to crumple into a ball.
“Alice!” a woman’s voice calls from behind me, but I don’t turn around. It’s the straw that makes me break, and the next thing I know I’m speed walking out of the room, into the grand hallway, and through a door into the garden.
The fresh air hits my face, and I breathe in deep but don’t stop walking. I need to get away from it all. Just for a few minutes. After that, I’ll be right as rain.
Weaving my way along the path, I pass intricate landscaping and impressive statues of people and mythical creatures.
The garden is a maze, which is exactly what I need right now.
The urge to lose myself, to escape it all, is overwhelming, and I walk until I come to a small fountain with a stone woman pouring water into its center.
Collapsing on a bench, I stare at the bubbling water and sigh. Did I look crazy back there, running out like I did? Do I even care?
Closing my eyes, I press two fingers against the spot between my eyebrows. Of course I care. I’m just having a bad afternoon. A bad month.
Even though I haven’t spoken to Oscar at all – and I’ve closed all streams of communication – he’s haunted me like a ghost. No matter what I do, he’s always there, waiting to jump into my thoughts.
The worst part is that I don’t regret anything.
I made the right choice leaving both him and Rooted Pantry, and I wouldn’t do anything different given a second chance.
That truth should help me move on, but it’s done anything but. While my life is changing on the outside, inside I still feel stuck, tied to Oscar in an inexplicable way.
Opening my eyes, I catch sight of movement through the trees. A tall man. Broad shoulders. Dark hair…
Could it be?
No. I’m seeing things.
Oscar didn’t show up here today. Oscar has probably already forgotten about me, moved on to the next woman he’s chosen to play mind games with. Oscar…
Is stepping onto the main walkway, stopping on the other side of the fountain, his gaze locked on mine, drinking me in.
My breath hitches in my chest, and I feel weak even though I’m sitting down.
His footsteps crunch softly on the gravel path as he comes around the fountain, and my whole body goes taut. For a second, I want to pretend I don’t see him, that I’m somewhere else. Somewhere he can’t reach me. Somewhere he never existed.
But I’ve already looked into his eyes, and I can’t look away. Not because I don’t want to, but because it feels physically impossible. There’s a tether to my heart, and he controls the other end of it. Whether I like it or not.
He stops a few feet away, hands at his sides like he’s afraid if he moves too quickly, I’ll bolt.
“Alice,” he says, voice rough with something that almost sounds like… relief.
I straighten on the bench but don’t stand. My chest tightens. “How did you know I was here?”
“Get Fresh is hosting the conference, isn’t it? Why would its COO miss it?”
I don’t answer, just keep looking at him. He’s something out of a dream… or is it a nightmare? I don’t even know anymore.
“Although,” he says, “I thought you would be inside schmoozing.”
“I’ve had my fill of it.” I look away, back into the water, though every cell in my body remains hyper aware of his presence.
Silence stretches between us, the only sound the soft splash of water trickling from the statue’s urn.
“I saw you blocked me on everything,” he says quietly. “I don’t blame you.”
I cross my arms and look back at him. “You don’t blame me? Then why are you here?”
“Because I needed to look you in the eyes,” he says, stepping a little closer, “and tell you again that I never signed off on those layoffs. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
I stare back at the water. My throat tightens. “I didn’t believe you because everything about the timing felt too convenient. Because Jack and Halston pulled the trigger, and you… what? Just watched?”
“No. I was trying to buy time. I didn’t think they’d go through with it without a vote.” He pauses. “But they did.”
I say nothing. He exhales and sits on the other end of the bench, leaving enough space to be respectful. To remind me that this is my choice, not his.
“They’ve been voted off the board,” he says.
“Sydney told me.”
“I got everyone back on payroll as soon as possible,” he continues. “It doesn’t undo what happened. But I did everything I could to make it right.”
I let that sink in. I knew all of this already, of course. Sydney has kept me up to date. Hearing it from him again softens me a little, though. If he came all the way over here to find me and tell me this, maybe he is being genuine.
“I believe you,” I say quietly.
A long pause.
I clear my throat, afraid of bursting into tears and not being able to imagine anything worse happening right now. “But it doesn’t change that I… I just… I can’t trust you, Oscar.”
The words feel like glass on my tongue. They cut on the way out, but I can’t lie to him. It’s the truth, and it feels good to let it out. Even though I wish reality was something different.
“I know,” he says again, and this time his voice cracks. “I hate that. More than anything. Our time in San Diego…” his voice lowers. “That was real to me, Alice. Every second of it. That was the happiest I’ve ever been. And I think — no, I know — you felt it too.”
I don’t respond. Because he’s right. And it hurts like hell to admit it.
“I wasn’t pretending,” he says. “Ever. Not with you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hold myself together.
“I don’t know if this means anything,” he says, “but I think I”m doing a pretty good job over at Rooted Pantry, keeping your vision going.”
“Oh, yeah?” I lift an eyebrow, surprising myself with my playfulness.
“Yes. My only regret is that we’re not doing this together.”
I look at him again, really look. The dark circles under his eyes.
The tension in his shoulders. The regret carved deep into the corners of his mouth.
And despite everything — despite the betrayal, the mess, the silence — I still feel that impossible, infuriating pull to him.
It’s that ache in my chest I’ve never been able to silence.
“There’s something real between us,” he says, barely above a whisper. “There always has been. You know that.”
I look away, heart hammering. “It’s not enough.”
“Maybe not,” he says. “But I still want to try. With you.”
He reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a business card and a pen, and writes something on the back.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me. Or trust me. Just… think about it.”
He holds the card out. I hesitate for a moment before taking it, making sure our fingers don’t touch.
“What is this?” I ask, not recognizing the address.
“Meet me there at six tonight. Please.”
I bite my bottom lip, undecided. If I don’t go, I’ll always wonder what could have been, but if I do go and get my heart stomped on again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to recover this time.
And if things do go well and I return to Rooted Pantry, then what? That repairs the professional side, but it doesn’t fix everything else that’s happened between the two of us, which is what really matters.
And I don’t think I can work alongside Oscar again. Not with the extra weight that’s been added to our shared history. Not while I still curse his name but dream of his touch.
Oscar rises slowly, like he’s not sure his legs will carry him. “I’ll be there,” he says. “I hope you will be too.”
He walks away, slipping back around the fountain and down a side trail, disappearing from view.
I stare at the card in my hand, my fingers trembling. I could tear it in half. Toss it in the fountain. Forget the way he said my name like it meant something.
But I don’t.
Because something in me still isn’t ready to let go, and something in me will never be ready.