There was nothing better than a fresh cup of coffee in the morning and getting Chucks’s ex-boyfriend fired from his job.
I handed Brianna my planner. “Burn today’s page. I have some shit to do.” It was an exact, albeit unprofessional order.
Specifically, said shit was going to every bigwig who’d denied my request to cancel the new ad campaign and showing them the plummeting ratings chart I’d printed out as a last attempt to save this sinking ship.
I might have been a bit dramatic last Friday night when I’d spoken to Judith.
Quitting LBC was not in the cards for me any time soon, with or without the new ads, but I didn’t want to lie to her, either. And I was listening to other offers, mainly so the bigwigs would get tipped by their moles and realize I was serious about leaving if we didn’t get our ducks in a row.
Getting Milton fired by talking to my old friend Elise and telling her the fucker had tried to win my girlfriend back wasn’t necessary, but it was definitely a nice bonus. Elise, who was a fellow Harvard graduate, wasn’t impressed by her new boyfriend’s antics. Also, Robert, Judith’s father, was apparently on my team, because he’d chosen to share this piece of information with me in the first place.
As for Judith, I needed to get my head out of my ass, take her to lunch, and apologize for being my bastard self. Again. She’d taken a cab back in the middle of the night after we left things—though not orgasms—unfinished.
“Yes, sir. Oh, and sir, Miss Davis is here.” Brianna jotted down my orders for the morning.
I took a sip of my coffee and gathered this week’s statistics in a big, fat file. “Lily Davis?” I arched an eyebrow.
“No, sir, Geena Davis. She was wondering if you could be the Louise to her Thelma.”
I looked up and caught her nibbling at her lower lip, biting on a huge smile. I smirked. Touché. She was beginning to fight, something she never would have done if it wasn’t for Judith.
As for the matter at hand, Lily must have been quite drunk, because there was no way in hell and its neighboring sections she had the balls to come here. Shit. It was nine in the morning.
“Impossible. She knows she’s one step away from a restraining order.” Plus, I very much doubted Lily got up before noon. If hedonism was a job, the bitch would be Mark Zuckerberg.
“Well, she is, and she’s in tears.”
“I’m more interested to know if she’s in clothes.” I slid the file into my leather briefcase.
Brianna blinked at me, cocking her head sideways. “Yes, sir, she’s clothed.”
I snapped my fingers toward the door. “Send her in.”
A minute later, Lily stood in my office, still in her nightgown and a jacket. She sniffled, her tears coming down like a broken faucet. She wiped her cheeks and nose with the sleeve of her jacket, and looked like hell, but not in a way that concerned me.
“What’s going on?”
“Grams died.” She choked on a sob.
I stood, rushing to her. For all the shit she’d put me through, I hated to see anyone going through losing someone important to them. I cared about Madelyn deeply, and I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to her. She hadn’t even known I was there.
I’d disappeared on the entire Davis family because I hated their daughter and was too busy licking my wounds.
I pulled Lily into a hug, and she buried her face in my chest and howled, the kind of yelp that ripped your chest open.
I cupped the back of her head. She swayed from side to side in my arms.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I whispered. I was. And it made me feel oddly human.
“I don’t know what to do,” she sniffed, rays of the old Lily—the one I’d actually liked—seeping through the cracks of her Botoxed exterior. “Will you come to the funeral?”
“Of course.”
Her thigh nestled between mine, and I hated it, and I couldn’t stop it, and I hated that even more. Because if it wasn’t intentional, I would never forgive myself for pushing her away.
“Anything your family needs, I’m here.”
“Will you come today? Talk to Dad? He’s really beside himself. Mom, too. We feel like you were a part of us. Because for the longest time, you were. Grams loved you so much…”
“Not a good idea, everything considered.”
She looked up and blinked at me.
“The item in the paper,” I clipped. That you leaked, I refrained from adding. If I brought it up, I’d have to tell her what I thought about her version of our story, and now wasn’t the place, and certainly not the time.
“Oh, I talked to them. They’re willing to forgive you.” She disconnected from me to wipe her tears quickly.
And the Botoxed bitch returns. “How kind of them.” My sarcasm was pretty much dripping on the floor.
I glanced at my watch behind her back. I needed to get those reports out. At the same time, I couldn’t go about my day, business as usual.
Maybe because I’d tried to do it when Camille died.
Went back to the office after the weekend of her funeral.
Buried myself in work.
Didn’t talk about it with anyone.
Built a higher, stronger, thicker wall between me and the world, making sure no one could get through it.
Camille hadn’t deserved it. Hell, Madelyn hadn’t either. After all, she was the woman who’d given me the very best advice I’d never bother to take. It was after we’d exited Phantom of the Opera, arm in arm. We’d sauntered into our favorite Italian restaurant. She’d asked me if I thought I’d marry her granddaughter.
“Probably. It’s what expected of me.”
“But what do you want?”
“To make Lily happy.” And my father, who might finally accept me for making the right decision. And my mother, who normally didn’t particularly care.
“And yourself? Do you want to make yourself happy?”
“I don’t think I can be.” I hadn’t. Not then, and not now.
Madelyn’s face had fallen, and she’d squeezed my bicep between her fragile fingers. “Then you need to keep looking, because my granddaughter isn’t the one.”
“I’ll come,” I told Lily, taking a step back. Fuck the bigwigs and fuck the network. I needed to pay respects to the woman who’d put my happiness before her family’s.
Lily’s red claws sunk into my skin, and she pulled me into an octopus hug.
“Thank you.”
Jude
On the way to work, Leonard Cohen told me in my earbuds that we’re spending the treasure that love cannot afford, and I nodded, not only to the rhythm, but the sentiment. My Chucks were blood red, and I’d spent the train ride dying their laces black with a Sharpie.
I walked into the office not knowing what to expect. The professional side was going to be evidently extra depressing. But last night, Célian and I had showcased our hearts like they were on a window display when we touched—crawled into each other’s mouths and seeped into each other’s souls. Then I’d left, without a message or a phone call. Not my most mature moment, but I was sure he needed time to think, too.
I walked the hallway, ignoring the judgy looks and raised eyebrows people tried to pin me with. Jessica passed me and winced. She didn’t say anything, but one look at her face told me I was in for an unpleasant surprise.
Uh-huh.
My phone beeped twice before I got to my station, and I dumped my backpack under my seat, swiping the touch screen.
Grayson: Girl. We love you. We’re here for you. And just remember—he can take your joy (temporarily), but he can never take your good hair.
Ava: I heard his dick was too big, anyway. Jokes aside, those things only look good in porn.
What the hell is happening?
I decided to take it up with Célian, who was clearly the root of this weird behavior toward me. I stormed out of the newsroom and stopped when I got to his open door. His back was to me, and he was hugging Lily, who peeked behind his arm. She smiled at me, triumph glittering in her eyes, clutching the fabric of his shirt and nuzzling her nose against his arm.
He took her face in both his hands and leaned down, asking her something intimately.
She nodded, sniffed, and buried her head back in his chest.
His hands on her.
Her hands on him.
Red. My Chucks were red. My heart was black. My mind was white, thick fog.
I was a fool. An idiot. I was the other woman, who’d just gotten dumped very publicly, and as per usual—without notice.
I was able to hear them clearly through the open door.
“Can we go now? I don’t want to wait another minute,” she whined, smoothing his shirt with her palms. The act looked so natural on them. Like they’d done it a thousand times before.
They probably have, Jude.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course.”
I snuck into the room next to his office before he could see me. The last thing I wanted was a public showdown with a side of Korean-drama-worthy catfight. Already LBC was in deep trouble, and everybody looked at me like I’d screwed my way into the Laurents’ royal family. No reason to give them even more ammo against me. Besides, maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I flipped up my phone and shot him a quick message.
Jude: Everything okay?
I went to my desk and switched on my monitor, ignoring the nausea that slammed into me out of nowhere. The room, which was spinning at the corners of my vision, was also eerily silent, and I knew why. If Célian was right about one thing, it was the fact that he’d never forced me into anything. I’d willingly slept with him. In my desperate, sad haze, I had even initiated this affair. I’d made my bed, and the fact that it now crawled with slimy creatures, eating at my reputation and feelings, was my fault and my fault only.
He answered at noon, long after he’d left the office.
Célian: Something came up.
Jude: Elaborate?
Célian: Family.
Of course. Lily was family.
And of course, I was the mistake he’d left behind.
Célian didn’t come to work the next day, or the day after.
The rumor mill was in full swing, with Mathias poking his head down from the top floor and hanging out in the newsroom like it was his second house. He tapped Kate on the shoulder and made suggestions, walked up to Elijah and shot him orders, and tried to coax Jessica into having lunch with him. It was clear he was trying to screw with us as much as he could before Célian came back, which made me believe he knew something we didn’t—maybe that his son had gotten back with his ex-fiancée.
It was a disaster in the making, and I had VIP tickets. On the flip side, he did ignore me the best he could, and I tried to disappear into my monitor and not lift my head from the keyboard until it was time to go home.
When I had a second to breathe, I ran to the fifth floor to Ava or Grayson’s desk. Phoenix, who was a freelancer, didn’t have to show up at work every day, but he did because I was in breakdown mode.
“You don’t know what’s happening yet,” he tried to reason with me.
“What’s to know? The Laurents do what they want to do.”
“Exactly. And he doesn’t want to do Lily. Hasn’t for a while now.”
“He wants his network, and that’s what he’ll get. I’ll be a blip in his history. Nothing but a stain.”
“Stain!” Grayson huffed, slapping his desk. “I hope you tarnished his whole life.”
According to Gray, Célian had been seen going in and out of Lily’s apartment building twice in the last forty-eight hours. At this point, I’d stopped trying to communicate with him and had gotten the general idea. The message had finally hit home.
I was disposable. Maybe not a one-night stand, but definitely a short-term one. I was past my expiration date, thrown aside for Lily to take over. He was patching things up with her family and spending time with her.
Phoenix, of all people, remained impartial.
“Célian Laurent is every bad thing under the sun, but he is not a pussy. If he wanted to get back with Lily, he would have given it to you straight.”
Grayson filed his nails, rolling his eyes. “Then I guess he gave it to her gay when he kept mum on his engagement the night they met.”
“He didn’t think he’d see her again,” Ava pointed out.
“But then he found out they were working together,” Gray stressed, unwilling to give Célian any slack. I couldn’t blame him. He’d been working here for four years, and Célian still didn’t know his name. “Plenty of time to clear things up.”
“It didn’t make any difference. They weren’t together, and he was trying to set boundaries with an employee, seeing as his father is a first-class douche with blurred lines when it comes to female coworkers,” Phoenix shot back, picking at his takeout with a set of seriously short chopsticks.
“Why are you defending him?” I blinked. “He’s been nothing but horrible to you.”
Phoenix shrugged. “Because he’s sorry.”
“About what?” Ava asked.
“About everything. About what happened to Camille. About keeping us apart. The guilt practically pours from his face when he passes me in the corridor. He knows he screwed up, and he wasn’t even the one doing the real damage. I don’t like him—not even close—but then again…” He dropped his takeout box in the trash can, even though it was still half full. He shook his head, knotting his fingers behind his neck on a sigh. “Camille loved him. He protected her fiercely. He gave her the love and guidance their parents didn’t. And I refuse to believe that’s the same man who pulls shit like this.”
“I haven’t heard from him in almost three days.” I cleared my throat, looking down at the takeout box in my lap. What the hell had I ordered, anyway? I’d thought it was orange chicken and noodles, but now that I looked, it was stir-fried seafood and rice. I’d eaten a quarter of it without even tasting it. Just how messed up was I?
My heart is not a lonely hunter.
My heart feels. It beats. It loves. It breaks.
It breaks. Oh, God. It is breaking right now, to pieces, and there is nothing I can do to patch it back together. I’m falling apart right along with it.
My phone pinged. I refused to look down and chance everyone seeing how my face twisted in agony and disappointment when I found out yet again that it wasn’t Célian. I took a sip of my water.
Another ping.
Then another.
Then another.
Phoenix’s phone started pinging, too, but he wasn’t a coward. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. “Jude?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Kate. There’s an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. NOAA is freaking out, and there’s an official statement coming in half a second. We need to go upstairs right now.”
We both shot from our seats at the same time. Adrenaline pumped in my veins. Phoenix took my hand and tugged me into the elevator. He didn’t let go, even once we were inside. When our eyes met, he squeezed my palm.
“Want the truth?” he asked.
I grimaced. “Getting tired of the lies, that’s for sure.”
“That day, when I met you at the library, I wanted to hit on you. I thought, for the first time since Camille, that I’d found something good.”
My eyelashes fluttered, my breath hitching. “Oh?”
“Then the next day, I saw you at your desk. Célian walked over to you. He looked down. You looked up. Your eyes met. He fought a smile. I had a déjà vu moment. Because the last time his face lit up like that was when Camille busted his balls for one thing or another. No one else ever made him smile. So I couldn’t do it to him. Or to you. Or to me.”
He let go when we arrived at the newsroom. Kate was ushering people to the conference room for an emergency meeting.
Célian wasn’t there.
Mathias was.
