Chapter 43 – Harrison
FORTY-THREE
HARRISON
Ican’t be the only one here feeling like this…
I wasn’t sure if some new virus was going around the office, but I was tempted to tell everyone to work from home until we got the contagion under control.
My chest ached without warning—for several hours at a time, my mind was too foggy for me to think clearly, and I’d lost my appetite somewhere between last week and this morning. Whenever I wasn’t researching my symptoms, I was musing about why Andrea still hadn’t unblocked me.
Why she still hadn’t come back…
I picked up my desk phone and called the intern department.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cross,” a soft voice answered on the first ring. “How may I help you this afternoon?”
“Afternoon?” I scoffed. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”
“Um, no, sir…” She hesitated. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”
What? I glanced at my clock in disbelief.
“Are you there, sir?”
“Yes.” I opened my laptop, wondering why Heather hadn’t sent me any updates. “I wanted an update on my phone from the support department.”
“Mr. Cross, we’ve taken your phone to Apple multiple times,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with your incoming or outgoing calls.”
“There has to be,” I said. “Send someone up here to take it to the store again. Tell the techs to double- and triple-check.”
“Sir—” She sighed. “A technician personally showed you there was nothing wrong yesterday, remember?”
“No, I don’t.” I shrugged. “Send someone up here to get my phone and stop being so difficult.”
I hung up and logged into my email, seeing a repetitive list of similar subject lines.
Subject: Cancelled Meeting
Subject: Rescheduling Request Approved
Subject: Mr. Cross Is Unavailable… Indefinitely
I scrolled through pages of emails, confused as ever. Not wanting to deal with this without alcohol, I poured myself a shot of whiskey and tossed it back.
Before I could call Heather, my door swung open. Then Aaron stepped inside and slammed it shut.
“People are starting to whisper some pretty ugly rumors around here, Harrison…”
“Good morning to you too, Aaron.”
“The morning was over hours ago.” He strolled closer. “This is the part in our conversation when you ask me what the rumors are.”
“I don’t care.”
“They’re wondering why you haven’t sent a mean memo in weeks.”
“I stopped sending those months ago…”
“Or why you’re holed up in your office, crying like a little bitch.”
“I’ve never cried a day in my life.”
“You need to get the hell out of here, shower, and change out of that shirt.”
“What’s wrong with my shirt?”
“You’ve been wearing it for six days straight now,” he said. “Then again, maybe I should let you wear it for longer since it took you a week to change the last one.”
“You’re exaggerating, Aaron…”
“I wish I was.” He lifted the shot glass from my hands and snatched away the bottle.
“You need to get it together by the morning,” he said. “There’s a lot of work that has to be done—regardless of whether you’re laying off people or not.”
“I’m aware.”
“So, I don’t need to drag you into Friday’s seven a.m. meeting?”
“I can’t believe Andrea broke up with me,” I said. “I think she really left me…”
“Glad you’re finally admitting that you were together.”
“She’s being unreasonable,” I said. “She’s not seeing things from my point of view.”
“So, about this meeting on Friday and what we need to discuss ahead of then…” He ignored my comment. “Can we shift to that?”
“I didn’t give her permission to leave, so technically her time still belongs to me.” I looked at him. “Send her a notice about needing to come in to discuss her employment. She might not have you blocked.”
“No, Harrison.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not going to do that.”
“If you don’t, I’ll be forced to—”
“Fire me?” He didn’t look the slightest bit threatened. “Please, go ahead. Tell me I’m done so I can finally spend the next few years of my life worrying about myself instead of you.”
I knew better than to do that.
“Exactly.” He shook his head. “Your threats are baseless, and I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.”
He moved even closer, dropping a folder on my desk.
As if he was certain I wasn’t interested in opening it, he did it for me.
Inside were glossy pictures of Andrea. In the first one, she was sitting on a park bench—with some other guy.
My fingers tightened around the edges.
I flipped through them to see her eating ice cream and walking around Central Park. Her sipping wine at a restaurant, her standing on the front steps of her apartment and leaning in for a kiss with some man who wasn’t me.
“She’s already moving on,” he said, “and it’s time you do the same.”
“How is this even possible?” I asked. “Is it serious, or is this a ploy to get my attention?”
He gave me a blank stare.
“Just answer me honestly.”
“I don’t know, Harrison,” he said. “I had someone follow her last week. I hoped seeing this would make you understand that her life is going on without you. That you’re still a billionaire with thousands of livelihoods in your hands.”
“So, what?”
“So, do me a favor and become Harrison Cross as soon as possible so you can do what you do better than anyone else I’ve ever known.”
“Feed you sarcasm?”
“Run a goddamn business.”