Chapter 4
Four
AUGUST CURRENT DAY (MONDAY)
“A nd this is my office,” I say as I finish the tour of the floor. Clara had suggested we each walk our respective executive around while she and Peter meet in the conference room. I unlock my door and he silently follows me in, not having said a word the entire time. “If you ever forget where to go, or need something, feel free to stop by. I think we’ll have the four of you set up in the conference room we started in, but you’re welcome to hang out here while Clara and Peter finish up their meeting.”
He just stands there, feet away from me, staring. Those eyes that I used to know better than anything are drowning me—I can’t look away. I’m being sucked in and it’s suffocating. My lower lip begins to tremble. I don’t know how to look at someone who once looked at me with love but is now devoid of any emotion without crying. I turn away, eyes closing and hoping this is all just some bad dream, or a cruel joke. This is really fucking cruel.
“Would you like some coffee while we wait?” I don’t wait for his answer to begin making two cups, because even after all this time, I never stopped buying the syrup he likes.
My hands shake as I make the drinks, and I can feel him watching. When I’m almost done, a warm presence steps up behind me and I gasp when fingertips graze against my arm. I spill some of the coffee and drop the stirrer in the cup. My hands move to the edge of the cart to steady myself.
“Analise,” he whispers, inches from my ear. My eyes close. The way he says it makes it obvious he knows exactly who I am. A stuttering cry of a breath comes out of me as I think of all the times he touched me like that in the bed we shared.
His voice used to do something to me. The way he’d say my name was a holy experience. I always thought if he ever came back, anger would be my leading emotion, but my body reacts as if he never left. Maybe it’s how much I’ve been thinking of him the past few days, or how I never got the closure I needed to move on, or the things I’ve come to learn since he left, but I want to reach out and hug him instead of wanting to punch him.
I take a deep breath. “So, you do remember me?” My voice is nowhere near steady.
“You think I could forget you that easily?” he replies, his voice pained. “Do you still not know how unforgettable you are?”
The initial hit of relief I felt fades away with those words. Anger might not have been the first emotion I felt when I saw him, but it’s all I feel now.
How can he say that after being gone for so long?
“It seemed pretty easy for you for the last six and a half years,” I let slip with enough bitterness that I can feel him flinch.
“I never forgot you,” he says, softly.
His words and his closeness are too much for me. I turn, hand him his coffee and move to my seat so there’s a desk between us. Something solid to keep the distance.
“It’s okay, we don’t have to have this conversation,” I say, more so because I’m scared of what he might say—why he left. I motion for him to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. “I’m under no delusions that you came back for me, it’s just business. We’re both professionals here; we can manage to work together for the next two weeks, then you’ll go back to D.C., and I’ll stay here, and it’ll be as if it never happened.”
“If that’s what you want.” The corners of his mouth turn down and his eyes have lost their usual glow.
I almost laugh. What I want? Now he cares what I want?
What I wanted didn’t matter to him back then. He didn’t even ask me what I wanted back then. Because what I wanted was to be where he was, to go where he went, but he obviously didn’t want me.
I gesture for him to sit again. He starts to move but his eyes catch on something, focusing back on the coffee bar and light comes back to his face.
“Blondies?” he asks, walking over to grab one. He searches for the biggest piece, the one I always left for him because I could never cut the slices evenly. Part of me hopes that Jason took that piece earlier, but another part of me hopes it’s there waiting for him because it was always only his. “It’s almost like you knew I was coming.”
I huff out a laugh. “Because me quite literally getting knocked on my ass by the tidal wave of shock that hit me when you walked around that corner wasn’t indication enough of my knowledge on the matter.” I forgot how easy this was, how easy we were. Slipping back into this banter with him feels like slipping into a favorite sweater. It overwhelms me with a comfort I haven’t found since the day he left. “But you . . . you were the picture of unaffected indifference,” I continue and his face scrunches up as he takes a seat. “You obviously weren’t surprised at all.”
“Well, I did receive an agenda on Friday that named my point of contact for the next two weeks,” he says and my cheeks warm because I knew that was sent out, but at the time, I didn’t know it was him on the receiving end. “I choked on my coffee, which, might I note, wasn’t half as good as the one you just made me, when I saw your name beside mine.”
I stare at him with an incredulous look on my face.
“I’m serious,” he pleads, still able to read me like a book. “After I choked, I ended up spitting it out all over my monitor and keyboard. To make matters worse, Peter walked into my office as it was spraying out of my mouth. Ask him, he’ll corroborate my story.”
I’m holding back laughter, but my ever-inconvenient imagination produces, what I assume is, a perfect reenactment of the event and I burst out laughing. “All right, all right, I believe you. That does sound like you.”
His mouth pops open and he grabs a small piece of the blondie in front of him and throws it at me. I’m already laughing but I manage to catch it and toss it into my mouth.
His liquid-sunshine laugh joins mine, and for a moment I forget the past six and a half years happened—he never left and we’re just two lovers laughing together. It’s easy. It’s fun. It’s right .
But the past six and a half years did happen. He left, and while I understand why he did, there’s still so much I don’t understand about what happened to us. The weight of those questions sits on my lungs and steals my breath; my smile fades and it gets hard to breathe again. I drop my hands into my lap and squeeze my leg just above the knee, trying to distract myself from the pain stabbing through my chest with no luck.
Warren’s face drops and he leans forward as if he’s about to comfort me, then hesitates, thinking better of it, and leans back in his chair. Pain is etched across his face—not in a way that most would see, but to someone that’s memorized every millimeter of his skin and knows every expression in his repertoire, it’s as clear as a sunny, summer day.
“I tried to look you up, to double check if it was you,” he says softly and I look up, getting trapped in those butterscotch eyes that never fail to make me melt. “But I see you’re still determined to stay off social media.”
“You looked me up?” I hate how much hope there is in my voice. How much hope I feel.
His cheeks turn rosy. “Many times. I kept hoping you’d appear, but you never did.” He looks down. “So, I had to resort to obsessively stalking Ali’s accounts to catch anytime she’d post a picture with you in it.”
My mouth drops open, but he glances up and continues talking before I can say anything. “Since you refuse to even download any of those apps, I’m assuming you haven’t looked me up.”
Something about the way he says it has my heart twisting. There’s disappointment in his voice and I want to dispel it, so I skip the banter and jump right to the truth. “I have Ali keep tabs on you and give me reports.”
My lips snap together—I can’t believe I actually admitted that to him. Why would I tell him that?
I shouldn’t want to dispel his disappointment. I shouldn’t be feeling bad for him.
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I’m sure it shows itself as deep red embarrassment. I have to look away. Luckily, I look at the door and catch Jasmine, one of the newest employees on my team, walking away, assuming I’m in a meeting. I get her attention and wave her in.
“Oh, blondies this week.” Her eyes light up when she sees the treats. “I’ve been waiting for you to bake these again.”
Warren’s eyes light up in curiosity and he looks over as she grabs a square, but his eyes snag on a different feature of the coffee cart this time—the flowers. The corners of his mouth tug down when he spots the two blue tulips that are wilting in the little white vase. I really wish I stopped at Lola’s this morning.
Better yet, I wish I didn’t buy them at all. Old habits sure do die hard.
“Did you need me for anything?” I smile at Jasmine, wanting to focus on anything but all the ways I’ve already given away how much I still think about him.
“I just wanted to let you know that I got that code working we were discussing on Friday.” She smiles with pride. “You were right, it was an issue in the join statement between the claims table and the membership table. I’m just going to validate it one more time and I’ll have the final analysis sent to you by the end of the day.”
“I look forward to seeing it. Thanks, Jasmine.”
She smiles and practically skips away. When I turn back to Warren his eyebrows are raised. I press my lips together and ask, “What?”
“She worships you.”
I blink a few times, shocked by the words. “What are you talking about? She’s just doing her job.”
“Oh, come on. I used to work with you, I know what you’re like. You’re a brilliant teacher, and even before you were a manager, people would come to you for help first. Trust me when I say that girl thinks you walk on water, and I’d bet the rest of your team feels the same way.” His smile is reminiscent and mine wobbles between happy and sad. “They’re lucky to have you.”
I settle for rolling my eyes, but a flutter ignites in my chest at the way he’s talking about me. “You’re grossly over exaggerating.”
“Fine, don’t believe me.” He shrugs and takes another bite of the blondie. It looks like he has to actively stop himself from making a noise at the taste. “I’m only telling the truth, though.”
I try to hold back the smile that only he can pull out of me, but when I catch a glimpse of his bright smile, mine shines through too.
This is bad, this is really bad. I can lie to myself as much as I want, but I’ve been talking to him for all of fifteen minutes and that pull is back. He was once the sun, my summer sun, and I’m already caught back in his gravitational pull.
I jump when my phone dings with a new text, already forgetting where I am and what I’m doing here. My lips pull into a frown at the message on my screen—confirmation of the reservations for tonight. This is about to get interesting, that’s for sure.
“Something wrong?” he asks before I’ve even looked at him.
“Not exactly,” I say, but look up hesitantly. “Before I knew you were coming, I made reservations at Il Piacere for the group.” His eyes widen and his breath catches. I take that as a bad sign. “I can cancel and find somewhere else if it’ll be too weird.”
“No, keep it,” he chokes out, swallowing and blinking until his eyes aren’t glassy. “I’ve missed that place.”
My chest constricts at the emotions behind those words and all I can do is nod.
It’s a welcome reprieve when he has to go to the conference room. My mind is racing, my thoughts are all over the place. Is this real life? It can’t be. What are the chances that he works for the company that’s buying mine?
But really, what are the chances?