Dani: I do. Goodnight, Landry.
Me: Night, Ryan.
Strike one.
Danielle
“YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT.”
“Gee, thanks, Gretchen,” I sigh, heading to the doorway.
She surveys me before following me down the hallway. “I take that back. You look worse than shit.”
“Do you have something productive to say to me or are you just here to insult me?” I laugh.
I’m more than aware I don’t look my best today. Hell, I don’t even look mediocre today. My eyes have dark circles, my face crinkled with lines from sadness and wine and lying on the side of my face while I cried last night.
I woke up not sure what decision was right. Letting myself get involved with Lincoln, even when I felt like I was getting in too deep? Or pulling away because I’m scared? Which is worse—being extra risky or overly cautious?
All I know is that I thought of him as I fell asleep and when I woke up. I miss his voice and his stupid texts and wonder how his shoulder feels. There’s a part of me that feels dead not knowing when I’ll see him again . . . if ever. This is impossible.
Gretchen sighs, pulling me back to the present. “The budget is ripped apart.”
“No,” I gasp, my eyes going wide.
“Unfortunately. The official papers will come through next week, so enjoy the holiday. You might want to make plans for another job though, Danielle. I can’t promise you anything right now.”
My face falls as I try to keep this in a little box in my brain. If not, I’m going to be completely overwhelmed.
“I have a meeting and then I’m heading home to nurse this migraine. Take the day off tomorrow—paid. Extend your holiday weekend before the chaos of next week hits.”
“Gretchen?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Aren’t we all?” With a sad smile, she turns down the adjacent hallway and disappears.
Maybe this isn’t the worst thing to happen. Everything seems so bleak here. I could use this as an opportunity to move. Maybe somewhere warm. Or maybe Boston. I should call Macie.
The elevator dings and I glance over my shoulder and stutter-step before stopping. His eyes light up in the way I love, his body looking strong in a fitted black workout shirt and shorts. Lincoln makes no effort to move, to wave, to insinuate in any way that he is happy to see me besides the flicker in his eyes. As the doors close, we exchange a small, almost-smile, and then, before I’m ready, they swing shut.
A whimper slides through my lips, my eyes wetting immediately.
“Stop this,” I hiss to myself and dart to the bathroom. It’s empty. “This was your decision and it was a good one.” I straighten out my rumpled yellow dress. I’d hoped the color would brighten my spirits, but no luck.
I head back to my office, my heels clicking against the tile. “Take the job with Macie. Get out of here and make a fresh start,” I whisper to myself as I watch my feet step in the center of each tile.
I flick the door behind me to my office and nearly yelp. “Lincoln!”
He’s sitting across from my desk, the twinkle in his eye replaced with a look of . . . fear? He forces a swallow as I grab the corner of my desk for support.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I needed to see you.”
“Why?”