news at the same time as everyone else.
Andes was under investigation by the EPA for the disposing of toxic chemicals in nearby water sources. This came after an article exposing the practices at Brian Lewis’s factory, which had been going on for years.
After spending the weekend alone while Weston was in lockdown in his office, I had expected the worst. What I hadn’t expected was for him not to tell me what was going on. We’d barely spoken since he’d woken me in the middle of the night to make love to me.
As hard as I tried not to make any of this about me, it was impossible not to be hurt. To have to open up the Times to find out what was going on with my own boyfriend was a dagger to the heart.
I sucked it up, put my supportive pants on, and texted him.
Me: I read the article. I’m here when you need me. I love you so much, Weston.
An ass plopped down on my desk. “Did you read that bullshit?”
I placed my silent phone face down and looked up at Miles. “I did. I’m absolutely sick for him.”
“It’s utter bullshit. Andes runs regular checks at each of their suppliers. There is no way something like this would slip through the cracks. Obviously, someone at the Times is smoking too much and their brain cells are misfiring. Weston’s going to own that paper when he’s through with them.” Miles waggled his brows. “How does The Aldrich Times sound to you? Miles Aldrich, editor in chief. I have no clue how to run a paper, but it can’t be that hard.”
Despite the boulder sitting heavy in my stomach, I laughed. “I encourage you to follow your dreams.”
“It’s only been my dream for the last minute or so, but I appreciate the support.” His expression grew serious. “Tell me how he’s doing. I haven’t seen him at home.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t seen him either. I don’t know how he is.”
His brow dropped low over his concerned gaze. “What? You haven’t even talked to him?”
“Nothing more than a quick text to let me know he was dealing with an emergency at Andes. That was Saturday morning.”
Miles’s hand curled into a ball. “That’s not cool.”
It wasn’t cool, but I felt the need to defend Weston. Andes had been his life for so long, having it threatened and attacked had to be killing him. I wished he’d let me be there for him. That was killing me.
“He’s dealing with something huge, and he’s not used to sharing his burdens.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Not an excuse to leave you hanging. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either, but I’m not going to go storming into his office demanding attention.”
“You shouldn’t have to demand it.”
I sighed. “Can you go away, please? You’re making me more upset.”
His righteous indignation slipped away. “Oh no, I’m sorry, Lisie. God, I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not. I get that you’re angry on my behalf, but I don’t need that.”
He hopped off my desk to round it and slung his arm over my shoulders. “Let me take you to lunch today. I promise to be on my best behavior.”
I tossed his arm aside and leaned away. “I’ll let you know if I’m in the mood. Right now, I’m too grouchy to consider it.”
He backed up a step or two, holding both hands up. “Okay, okay. I may be dense at times, but even I can read the undercurrents. Just to say, I’m here for you if you want company.”
“Thanks, Miles.”
He finally left, and I turned over my phone. No response from Weston. My text hadn’t even been read.
It was midnight when a text rolled in. I’d been tossing and turning for an hour, sleep nowhere in sight. I guessed I’d been waiting to hear from him.
Weston: Sorry it took me so long to reply. I’ve been in meetings with lawyers and haven’t touched my phone all day. This isn’t going to end anytime soon.
Me: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you home?
Weston: Just got home. I’m about to crash.
Me: Want me to come up and crash with you?
Weston: I want that, but I know I won’t get the sleep I need if you’re here. Besides, I’ll be up at dawn for more meetings.
Me: Okay. I understand. Can you at least try to keep me apprised of what’s going on with you? I don’t love being in the dark.
Weston: I’ll try, but, baby, right now, my priority is Andes. My head is there, so if you don’t hear from me, that’s why. Love you. Goodnight.
Me: Love you too. xoxo
I clutched my phone to my aching chest. I’d been longing to hear from Weston all day, so why did I feel worse now that I had?
I rode the elevator up to eight, chewing on my lip. My stomach was a riot of butterflies. I couldn’t quite understand my body’s reaction. Dropping by to see Weston had become a regular thing, so why was I nervous today?
Probably because it had been days since we’d been face to face and our conversations had been brief and sparse. He was buried in meetings with lawyers and his executive board. I knew that, and I was being as understanding as I could, reminding myself again and again this wasn’t about me.
Renata was on the phone when I approached her desk. Her movements were harried. Her mouth was pulled into a deep frown as she nodded at what the person on the other end was saying.
Her eyes flicked to mine. I pointed to Weston’s office and mouthed, “Is he in a meeting?” She shook her head, her attention reverting back to the person she was speaking to.
I knocked lightly on Weston’s door, waiting a beat before pushing inside.
My heart dropped at the sight of him. He was at his desk, his head hanging in his hands. He didn’t look up as I crossed the room. He only reacted when I laid a hand on his shoulder and said his name.
His head jerked up, and the purple smudges under his eyes took my breath away. Weston never looked anything less than put together, even in the middle of the wilderness during our camping trip. Right now, he was ravaged.
“West,” I sighed.
He stared right through me for a moment before snapping out of his daze. “Elise. What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” I motioned to the paper bag I’d set on his desk. “I brought you lunch. I assumed you weren’t stopping to eat.”
His exhale was ragged with exhaustion. “If you’d called, I would have told you I’m having a working lunch in a few minutes with my lawyers. You wouldn’t have wasted your time coming up here.”
“Oh.” His tone was more curt than he’d ever taken with me. It hit me like a load of bricks. “If I’d called, would you have even answered?”
His brow lowered, a deep crease forming at the top of his nose. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m in the middle of trying to save Andes. Do you understand how many jobs are on the line if I can’t pull a rabbit out of a hat? If I don’t answer the phone, it’s because I’m busy. This is my sole focus, which I explained to you last night. I can’t worry about answering your calls right now.”
My hand dropped from his shoulder like I’d been scalded.
I guessed I’d actually been scolded. I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt so small. Probably high school, eating lunch in the bathroom so I didn’t have to try to choke down my food to the chants of “Ellie the Elephant.”
“Okay. I get it. I’m going to go.” I picked up the bag, crinkling it with my curled fingers. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“Elise.” He leaned back in his chair and gave me a long, thorough once-over. “I’ll text you tonight, all right?”
“Sure.” I swallowed down my hurt feelings. This wasn’t about me. If I kept telling myself that, maybe I’d start to believe it. “Bye, Weston.”
Renata was off the phone when I left Weston’s office, appearing just as run ragged as he was.
“How’d it go?” she asked. Her wry expression said she knew exactly how it had gone.
I took a deep breath and offered her a smile. “Do you like sushi?” I lifted up the bag. “I have extra.”
She grabbed it from me. “I’m so hungry, I’d eat a rat. My boss isn’t giving me a break.”
My laugh was forced, but I was trying. “Well, let me know if you’re hungry tomorrow and I’ll grab you something when I go to lunch. It’s no trouble.”
“You’re a good one, Elise.” She shook her head. “He’s not himself at the moment. What’s happening with the EPA and in the press is a personal attack in his mind. Weston’s entire ethos is being called into question. He’s not just defending Andes, he’s defending himself.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. And it turned out I didn’t have to. Weston’s voice came through the speaker on Renata’s phone.
“Renata, I told you I’m not taking visitors.” His harsh bark rattled down my spine. Was I a visitor?
Renata quickly picked up the phone, glancing at me then away. “I understand that, but I assumed there was an exception for—”
He cut her off, and although I couldn’t hear what he was saying, the droop on her face told me everything. This phone call was in direct response to her allowing me access to him.
She hung up and avoided my gaze. “Thanks for the sushi, honey.”
“I’m not an exception, am I?”
With a heavy sigh, she folded her hands on her desk and finally met my eyes. “I told you, he’s not himself. The decisions he’s making do not reflect how he feels about you.”
“Sure. But he’s still making them.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. There was nothing left to say. My boyfriend had just barred me from his office, and we both knew it.
At midnight, I received my text. I stared at his name on the screen, my thumb hovering until it turned black. It was a relief when it went away. I put my phone face down on my nightstand, covered my head with my blankets, and made myself shut my eyes.
In the morning, after a few hours of broken sleep, I allowed myself to read Weston’s texts.
Weston: Home now. About to crash. Bad day.
Weston: Are you asleep?
Weston: Goodnight, baby.
He’d sent me one more this morning.
Weston: Check in with me when you get this so I don’t worry. Too much going on to be worried about you, baby.
That I was crying before getting out of bed was a bad sign of how the day was going to go. I swiped the tears away from my eyes.
The bitter part of me wanted to let Weston be worried since I was consumed with it. But I wasn’t that petty.
Me: I’m fine. Don’t worry. I hope today’s better.
I didn’t check my phone again until I’d showered and dressed for work. He’d read it but hadn’t responded. Dread sat like lead in my gut. Nothing about what was happening felt right. Weston was in crisis, and instead of leaning on me, he was holding me at arm’s length.
Or maybe he was pushing me away entirely. That was what it felt like.
Saoirse was in the kitchen when I plodded in. As soon as she saw my face, she filled a mug to the brim with coffee and slid it across the counter to me. When I saw it was the one I’d bought her at the farmers’ market, with a picture of an opossum and the words “Eat trash and hail Satan,” I nearly sobbed. This was her favorite mug. She never shared it.
“You feel sorry for me,” I accused.
She cocked her hip. “Your boyfriend’s being a dick, so sorta.”
“He’s not a dick. He’s just—” I broke off. I hadn’t decided exactly how I felt.
Saoirse came at me with her arms out. I let her hug me but absolutely refused to cry. My makeup was done and I didn’t have time to redo it. This was where I made my stand.
She pulled back, resting her hands on my shoulders. “He’s being a dick, honey. There’s no disputing that. I get what he’s going through is huge, but you’re here entirely in the dark. It’s not right. He can’t just set you aside when life gets tough.”
“You’re right, and I’m not going to try to deny it. But what can I do? I can’t exactly storm into his office and demand attention. That’s not my style. Even if it was—” I choked on my own words. It took me two attempts to clear my throat so I could get them out. “I’m barred from his office anyway.”
I almost crumpled then. Saoirse’s sympathetic expression made me want to fall into her arms and spend my day there. I wasn’t this girl, but the thing was, Weston had made promises the last time I’d forgiven him for choosing his job over me, and I’d believed he’d keep them.
He hadn’t.
Reality was a Mack truck.
“Lise—”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I have to go to work. I’m sure everything will be okay.”
She sighed like I was the saddest thing she’d ever seen, and I sort of felt like it. If Patrick had simply stopped talking to me for days on end then told his assistant I wasn’t allowed to visit, I would have told him to go fuck himself, no matter the underlying reason.
But this was Weston.
The exception to every rule.
I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.
My midnight texts kept coming, but that was my only correspondence with Weston for the rest of the week. Work was busy, and in my off-hours, Saoirse practically danced on her head to distract me from my quickly fading boyfriend.
I read the news and listened to gossip around the office. People worried but were certain Weston would fix everything. They said this while wringing their hands and updating their résumés “just in case.”
Sympathy softened me toward Weston. His mantle was heavy. Everyone was looking to him now, and that had to be a difficult weight to stand tall under.
My patience was a finite thing, though, and it was wearing thin. One week of neglect and being set aside for Andes, and I was more than hurt. Weston was ruining us more every day that ticked by.
His midnight texts were a slap in the face.
I wanted to run up to the penthouse and scream, “You banned me from your office!” But I wasn’t the screaming kind. I was the folding kind. The “quietly pack it away” kind. The “remove myself from a situation, flattening me little by little” kind.
When the weekend came around again, I trudged to the farmers’ market with Saoirse, but even her buoyancy couldn’t keep me afloat. I took my phone out when she was distracted and texted Weston, even though I’d promised myself and her I wouldn’t.
Me: Hey…I know you’re busy, but I thought maybe I’d see you, even for a little bit. Are you at the office?
Without waiting for a reply I knew down to my bones I wouldn’t be getting, I stuffed my phone back in my bag, my stomach roiling with shame over asking for scraps.
Saoirse bumped into me, drawing my thoughts from my heartache. “Babe, look what I got for you.” She held up a glass jar in the shape of a beehive with a little bee on top.
“What is it?”
“You put honey in it and use this little swirling stick to serve it. Isn’t it adorable? I bought it for you because you’re the bee’s knees.”
I took the container from her, choking back sudden tears. “This is the sweetest present I’ve ever been given.”
There was no hiding from Saoirse. She cupped my cheeks with both hands and kissed my forehead.
“Don’t you dare cry in the middle of the farmers’ market or I’ll start crying too, and then I’ll never be able to come back and ask for the honey guy’s phone number.”
“Why don’t you ask for his number now?”
She waggled her brows. “I’m keeping him in suspense. This is my second weekend flirting with him. One more, I think, and he’ll be ripe for the plucking.”
Just like that, she’d managed to keep my tears at bay and make me laugh.
By evening, I hadn’t heard from Weston. In one of the rare moments I wasn’t being watched over by Saoirse, I took my keys, shucked my pride, and rode the elevator to the penthouse.
I let myself in and stopped in the doorway when I wasn’t met with the silence I’d been expecting.
“Hello?” I called.
The television went silent. “Lisie?”
“Miles?”
I ventured down the entryway and Miles appeared, his hands on his hips, a happy grin on his face.
“Hey. I didn’t expect to see you. Did Weston send you to make sure I wasn’t trashing his apartment?”
That answered whether Weston was here. I was disappointed, but I would have been even more so if he had been here, hanging out, ignoring my texts.
“No, he didn’t send me.” My keys dug into my curled-up hand. “Has he—is he at the office?”
Miles’s cocked his head, his brow crinkled with confusion. “Wait—you know he’s in California, right? He left this morning. You do know that, right?”
Everything in me wanted to tell him yes, of course I knew that. But I was too taken aback to even pretend. My shock must have been written all over my face because Miles crumbled right along with me.
“No,” he whispered. “He didn’t.”
“I don’t know where he is,” I confirmed.
“Shit.” Miles came at me, scooping me into his arms the way he always did. “I’m sorry, Lisie. I don’t know what he’s doing.”
I sucked in a shuddering breath and let my forehead fall on his shoulder. Deep inside, I knew this was coming, but now that it was here, I couldn’t believe it.
This was my limit.
I loved Weston. I’d given him time, space, and understanding because of that. But this…this was too much. He got on a plane, flew states away, and I hadn’t even been a factor.
This wasn’t like when Patrick’s betrayal had slammed into me like a tidal wave. Weston’s destruction had been done by slowly and steadily chipping away at me until I was all raw nerves, cracked bones, and shriveled trust.
We were over without even a whisper of a conversation.
I stumbled back from Miles, my eyes blurry with tears. “I’m going to go.”
“You don’t have to. Stay with me.”
“No.” I swiped at my cheeks. “I can’t be here anymore.”
Just like his brother had, Miles let me go.
