“Go ahead, call me an idiot. I should have trusted my instincts. There was no way this fake engagement fling was ever ending in anything besides disappointment.”
Eliza looks at me like she knows that’s a massive understatement.
Disappointment is when you go to Sweeter Grind and ask for a Regis roll, but come home with a bear claw because they’re sold out.
Disappointment is when your fiancè decides he needs to follow his dreams the morning of your wedding.
Finding out that this thing with Lincoln was always a game? That’s not a disappointment.
It’s an ax blow to the heart.
Eliza hands me a coffee infused with so much vanilla sweet cream it smells like a scented candle.
“He put on a good show, didn’t he? The man sucked you in. It’s not your fault. And are you sure he didn’t just freak out? You typically don’t push in some stabby moron’s face over a girl you don’t care about. The cold shoulder could mean more even if it definitely means F-you at the moment.”
I shrug and sip my drink.
I desperately want to believe her. Pathetic hope flutters in my chest.
“…but if that’s it, then why haven’t I heard from him?”
Her mouth forms a rigid line.
The hope unfurling in my chest hits a cavernous pothole and dies.
“See? No good explanation.” I sigh.
The oven dings and makes me jump.
“Ready or not, here comes brownie therapy.” She walks over and pulls out a tray of colossal fudge brownies. “Give them ten or fifteen minutes to cool.”
“This is my fault, Eliza.” I prop my head on my hand glumly.
You know it’s bad when godly brownie fumes can’t dispel bad thoughts.
“Nope, and I don’t want to hear it again,” she says sharply. “When you’re under my roof, you don’t get to beat yourself up.”
“Technically, we share the same roof.”
“Whatever! You told Jay Fuckboy five million times to leave you alone. He didn’t listen and got himself in a world of hurt. You aren’t responsible for how he reacts or the bosshole, either.”
“Have I been too passive?” I ask.
“What do you mean?
“I don’t even know what I saw in Jay. It was a small town and he was like the first guy who appreciated words to come along and show interest, so I just rolled with it. Somewhere along the line, I got serious and he didn’t. I never should’ve opened myself up to that abuse. God, I even replied to his weak attempts to make up—”
“Wrong. You told him to get lost and blocked his number when he turned into a stalker nut. He could’ve stabbed you, Dakota. What else were you supposed to do? If the guy who won’t take the hint starts brandishing a knife, that’s not your fault. Ever.”
I laugh dryly because she’s too right to argue back.
“Well, it turned into my problem and someone else’s by letting it fester. I played along with Lincoln, too, without enough thinking. I just let him sweep me off my feet, and he dropped me like a feather.”
She goes quiet for a minute.
“He didn’t give you much choice. What were you supposed to do? Beg him to change his mind in front of everyone you work with? Right after a dude came at you with a knife? Dakota, you’re not responsible for his stupidity or anyone else’s.”
“He’s definitely no Honest Abe.”
“Have you been to the office since it happened?”
I look down at my drink. “It was just a couple days ago. I couldn’t stand showing my face after that. Cheryl had the driver bring me home, thank God. Otherwise, I would’ve been a sobbing mess in front of everyone. Not to mention useless for work. I called in sick.”
“Will you face it tomorrow?”
Ugh, don’t remind me.
“I don’t know that I have a choice. I’ve only worked there a couple months. No huge pools of PTO banked besides what they give you starting out…”
“It pays more than your last job, right?”
What’s the point? To prove Lincoln may not need me, but I still need him?
“Yeah,” I say miserably.
“Could you ask for a week or two off even if it’s unpaid?”
I hadn’t thought of that.
“Probably. Since he’s had me working two full-time jobs, I’ve been making way more than my old salary and working too much to have any time to spend it. I can totally take unpaid time off if they’ll let me.”
“Do it. Use the downtime to hunt for another job. Unless you’re really okay with going back to work for this guy, forget about the pay. You should have some savings now, so if it doesn’t pay as much, oh well.”
“That’s a very Eliza solution,” I say glumly.
She’s good at grabbing life by the horns and shaking it around without getting smashed. I wish I was that bold.
That rock that’s been sitting in my throat starts choking me, and I blink back tears.
I realize how pathetic I must look moping around like this after a man I never truly had.
The hope that died earlier has turned to dust.
“You said his silence could mean anything, right?” I ask bitterly.
She nods, sipping her coffee. “It could. But if, by some miracle, he realizes he’s been a blockhead and comes crawling back, and you guys figure your crap out and live happily ever after…is it a good idea to keep working for him? That’s a ton of pressure.”
I sigh. “What if he ends the radio silence?”
She shakes her head like it’s obvious.
“Dakota, if he tries to get in touch, hear him out first—that is, if he starts with an apology. And make sure the talk happens on your terms. If you’re still his employee, it can’t be equal. Not when he controls your schedule and your income.”
I blink at her. “Maybe you should give up on coffee and become an advice columnist.”
“Not on your life. I love the bean too much. Now, are you ready for Dr. Brownie or what?”
I let her bring me one of those chocolate monsters and dig into it while I finish my coffee. Panic eating is surprisingly helpful today.
She packs up a few more treats for me to take home. I don’t argue because they’re decadent. Heartbreaks are always a sliver less awful with heaps of chocolate.
When I’m back in my apartment, I sit down in front of my laptop and stare at the screen. I open an email to Anna, close it, and reopen it.
What do I even say?
Dear Anna, I’m a slutty-slut-slut who slept with her boss and it ended badly, so can I have some time off to process this even if it has to be unpaid?
Yeah, guess how that’ll go over.
If I said I have mono, would she ask for a doctor’s note?
An informal text seems less daunting and humiliating than an email, I decide.
So I pick up my phone and hit her contact.
Anna, hi. Off the record, if I have mono for a week or two would you ask for a doctor’s note?
I get up to wash a few dishes and wipe down my stovetop before she replies about twenty minutes later.
Anna: Off the record, how about I give you administrative leave for workplace trauma from being threatened with bodily harm? I’m sure it qualifies after your boss and some lunatic came to blows in close proximity with a knife. I don’t see HR turning you down, if only to avoid a lawsuit. She sends a smiley face emoji and a heart for care.
Dakota: I won’t sue. Don’t worry.
Anna: Shhh! Don’t tell anyone that. God, I’m on your side here. Another smiley face emoji followed by a gif with two big furry monsters hugging. How are you holding up, anyway?
Dakota: Fine, considering the circumstances. Really. Thanks for helping me out with the leave. I’ll let you know in a couple days.
With that, I move to the couch, turn off the alarm on my phone, and switch on Netflix.
Time to chill, and not the kind that involves any moron with a penis.
Job surfing and life can wait.
After a few days of movie binging and pecking at poems with lines so depressing they could win an angst match against a teenager’s diary, I need to get out.
I’ll be back tomorrow, I text Anna.
Are you sure? she replies later.
I can’t stay home forever and I want to work. Whatever happened with the big boss shouldn’t keep me away from helping the main marketing push.
Anna: Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow then. Oh, and of course we’ve shelved those photos for now until we figure something out. So no worries about seeing them.
My throat knots. I’d half forgotten the pictures where Lincoln and I played at being newlyweds.
God, I hope I can live up to my word, keep my head down, and work without cracking.
The next day, I bike to work like the old days before—
Before.
I stop at Sweeter Grind and order two coffees and Regis rolls.
Just like before.
When I show up, I’ll have the bosshole’s order, a straight spine, squared shoulders, and a smile so effing bright it could blind the stars.
Lincoln Burns won’t get the satisfaction of a distraught, emotional mess. I’ll show him just how little power he has over my life.
…only, I find his office locked and the lights off when I show up.
Hmm. I check the time.
I’m not late. He couldn’t have left for a meeting already?
Since when is Mr. Stick-Up-the-Ass late?
Whatever. I’m better off not having to deal with him.
I set his breakfast down on my desk, power up my laptop, and clock in.
Hours pass before I look up and notice he still hasn’t arrived.
Weird. I guess Shrek needed an extra day in the swamp to yell at somebody else.
My desk is in front of Linc’s office, and we’re secluded from most of the company. He likes it this way. He has fewer interruptions and more quiet, orderly space. But it’s extra lonely over here today.
A few other C-level employees have offices near us, but they rarely poke their heads out. The CFO, an older man named Reed, flies past. He’s oh-so-careful to keep his eyes focused straight ahead so he doesn’t make eye contact with me.
By early afternoon, I’ve cleaned out the executive Inbox, which was oddly lighter than usual, and caught up on ad work.
With Lincoln out today, there’s technically no one to assist in my EA role and I can’t stand it here any longer.
So I pack up my laptop and head down to the main floor where the copywriters work. That has to be better. But even down here, people look away as I pass them.
Nice. Avoid eye contact with the freak who seduced the boss but couldn’t keep him around.
She’s a plague rat. Her drama might be contagious.
My stomach tries crawling up into my chest.
Why did I think I was brave enough for this again? Anna would’ve given me as much time off as I needed.
After a painfully long walk around the building, I sit down at my old desk beside Cheryl.
“Dakota? Welcome back. I didn’t expect to see you back for a while.” She flashes a friendly smile.
I don’t know what to say, so I keep my mouth shut.
“How is Mr. Burns?” she ventures.
“I wouldn’t know,” I bite off too harshly.
“Oh.” Her face falls and she nods. “I hope everything’s okay. He’s hardly been back to work since the day your ex showed up. He came in very briefly the next day but ducked out fast, I heard. Everybody’s freaking out about it because Burns never leaves early. And it’s been years since he missed a single day of work…”
That does raise my eyebrows.
Is it possible the asshat feels a little guilty, but he’s too proud to say sorry like a normal human being?
I mean, he did save my life, right before he stabbed me through the heart in a way Jay couldn’t.
“Eh, I don’t know. He probably hoped the drama would die down while he was out,” I say. “Laying low makes a lot of sense.”
Will I ever learn? I will always attract guys who can’t get their shit together—not even when they’re billionaires. And I fall for them every time like the gullible, moonstruck romantic I am.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see Anna.
“Hello, hello. Do you have a minute to talk to me in my office?”
I nod and follow her.
She motions to a chair across from her desk and I fall into it.
What now?
If she’s brought me here for a pep talk, I’m not interested, even if she means well.
“I’m proud of you for coming back,” she starts, glancing up at me with her head low.
Is she really? If I had an employee in this mess, I might hope they’d stay away and save everyone the awkwardness. But I know that’s my anxiety talking.
“You’re a talented writer, and we can’t afford to lose you. I just called you in to let you know we’re behind you all the way. The whole marketing team and especially me. Whatever you need to make this easier, just ask. You want to work from home? Good. You want a private office? Also cool. I’ll be personally reviewing your copy before passing it on, so if he has a problem with anything, he can take it up with me directly.”
I nod, more than a little stunned at her support.
“I’m grateful. Thank you.” I plant my feet on the ground and I’m about to stand, hoping that’s it.
But, of course, it never is.
Anna puts up a hand, urging me to stay. “Wait. That was my little support talk as your boss.”
“There’s more?” I ask quietly.
“Dakota, as your friend, that was such a shit move he pulled.” She goes quiet for a moment and her face stiffens. “Honestly, I’m still floored by it. I’ve never seen him lose control like that. To be fair, he had to wrestle a guy with a knife, but it was way out of character.”
“Yeah, I was there,” I say, trying not to sound bitchy.
“I think he cares about you…but rejecting you in front of an audience like that was a low blow. I hope he comes to you on his hands and knees before you ever speak to him again.” She gives me a menacing look.
Harsh. Is this what’s driving Lincoln into hiding? Hostile work environment?
“I doubt that’ll be an issue,” I say softly.
“Have you heard from him?”
I shake my head, mouthing a no.
“Well, probably for the best. He can’t cause more drama that way, but I do hope he clears the air before he shows his face around here again. The tension is so freaking thick it’s stifling.”
“That would be great, but don’t get your hopes up, Anna.”
“He’s barely been back since the day it all went down—”
“I heard.”
“He came in the next day and left early in a rush. He hasn’t been back since and he’s never been out like this before. The message he sent was so vague. Some kind of ‘personal emergency.’ I sent a response to let me know if he needed anything, but he never even replied.”
My heart sinks in confusion.
I don’t even know how to hash that.
“I think he just wants the scandal gone before he comes back,” I say, echoing my conversation with Cheryl.
“No point in waiting then. This weird extended absence after the incident has got people talking nonstop, especially since you were out for a few days, too.” She sighs like she’s legit overloaded from the drama flying around.
I can’t even blame her.
“Do you think people would look at me again and stop treating me like a pariah if Burns came back?” I ask.
She lays her elbow on her desk and rests her head on her hand.
“No one thinks you’re a pariah, Dakota. They just feel bad for you and don’t know what to say. We’ve never run into this situation before.”
“That’s almost worse.”
She sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. But to answer your question, I think it would lighten things up if he came back and restored some normalcy. It’s pretty cowardly for him to let you deal with the aftermath alone. But like I said, the email was vague, and he’s never been out unscheduled before, so something might be wrong.”
Something is wrong.
He doesn’t want to deal with the dumpster fire he caused, and he doesn’t care if it burns me alive.
“Thanks, Anna. I’ll keep working from here. We can’t both be ghosting the place. But as long as he’s out, I’ll be down here at my old desk. It doesn’t make sense to linger upstairs with no one to assist while I’m still doing Lucy’s job.”
“However you want to play it. I’m sure the acting CEO won’t have a problem either if this turns into an extended absence on his part. Say, do you want a coffee before you head back out? I can order from the place up the street.”
“No, I’m well caffeinated.”
“Go be the best wordsmith ever so that jackass knows you’re better than him,” she says with a ruthless smirk.
You’ve got to love her energy.
Somehow, I don’t think I’m a better anything than a princely CEO.
Once I’m at my desk, I decide to get this over with and text the loser.
Yeah, I know.
I’m supposed to wait. Let him come to me. Play the game.
I’ve already forgotten about him, but if Anna thinks his sorry ass returning will make people act normal around me again, he’s going to hear about it.
Why aren’t you at work? I send.
He doesn’t answer.
Hours go by, and I’m more annoyed by the minute. By the end of the day, I can’t resist a follow-up text.
You could show your face. It’s not a good look vanishing like this. Everyone thinks you’re a coward.
Surprise, surprise. He doesn’t answer that one either, maintaining radio silence.
At five thirty, Cheryl stops by and says, “Don’t tell me you’re staying here all night?”
“I was out for a while. I have plenty to make up,” I lie.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. If you’re behind, we’ll help you catch up.”
“Thanks.”
She looks at me for a long moment without speaking before she finally says, “Maybe someone should call his mom.”
Oh my God.
That’s the last thing I want.
“Why?” I look up, meeting her eyes.
“He’s just never out like this. What if it’s more than Burns having a hissy fit? If you haven’t heard from him, something could be wrong—”
“I doubt that. He made his opinion of me perfectly clear.”
“You’re probably right,” she says weakly before slipping away.
He sledgehammered my heart in front of the entire team, and by not showing up, he’s making it worse. Now Cheryl feels sorry for him.
On the way home, I stop at Sweeter Grind. The jackass might not respond to my texts, but I happen to know he frequents this coffee shop.
I order the largest caramel latte they have and bunker down at a table, waiting to see if he shows up. This is usually one of the evenings when he makes his cinnamon roll runs for Wyatt.
I wait for nearly an hour before I can’t stand it.
No sign of Lincoln Burns.
I hate myself for it, but now Cheryl’s words have me concerned.
What if something crazy happened to Lincoln and everyone just thinks he’s waving his dick? He never struck me as a coward.
I get up and ask the barista girl if she’s seen a suit come in lately for a large Regis roll order.
She knows exactly who I mean.
When she tells me he hasn’t been by in a few days—very unusual—my heart skips. What the hell is going on?
I take off, tossing back what’s left in my cup as I fly out the door.
At the park a few blocks down, I find Wyatt’s tent. It’s crumpled and empty, his meager belongings picked over.
Oh my God. What happened?
A rustling noise behind me makes me turn.
A girl comes out of the pink tent where we left flowers once. She gives me a friendly wave.
I return it, even with my brain stuck on panic.
Should I call Lincoln? Does he already know? Is this why he’s gone?
“Hey there. Any news about Wyatt?” the homeless girl asks.
I blink, clearing my throat. “No. I’m sorry. What happened?”
“You don’t know? I found him. He was pretty sick and out of it, so I called an ambulance. I rode to the hospital with him, but then Lincoln came and I couldn’t stay there forever. I just want to know how Wyatt’s doing.” She gestures to the collapsed, empty tent.
A rock forms in my throat.
“What hospital did they go to?” I ask.
Before she’s even done rattling off a name, I’m racing into the night.
Lincoln Burns might be the bastard child of a cactus and a rabid wolverine, but I can’t leave him hanging with those standoffish texts if his best friend is dying.
I need to find him ASAP.
