Enemy's Secret - Ashlee Price Page 0,72

The annual review at my work is happening later today.

Then there's this whole reunion with Pompom, which is going well... so far.

She nods, a stray red hair bouncing along with her. "Remember when that ska band guy dumped me it took me, like, months before I cried? And then I couldn't stop crying."

I snort. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Not that you'll do that," Pamela clarifies with a winning smile and eyebrow raise. "You're way stronger than me, remember?"

I roll my eyes and sip my own peppermint tea from the new llama mug she just bought me. "OK, you're laying it on a little thick, there."

She shakes her head stubbornly. "Nope. Nothing short of me getting on hands and knees is too much. I'm just glad you agreed to see me at all."

"I'm still not even mostly over it," I confess.

"I know." Pamela bites her lip. "It's only been days. I was a bit surprised you agreed to see me this morning."

"Me too," I say with a shrug. "Maybe it's the whole Landon thing. Maybe my brain can only handle being mad at a limited number of people at once."

She sets her empty mug on the side glass coffee table. "You're mad at him?"

"Maybe." I shrug again. "Maybe a bit. I guess I thought that, after everything, he would fight for us. No matter what. He kept coming back, kept trying to make things work. Then again, I did betray his trust hugely. And I'm not sure I even want him to try to make this work. I think we need to just let it go."

Pamela reaches over to squeeze my hand. "I don't know. I'm not as sure as you are that things are over over. How do you know that when he shows up to pick up Madison, the romantic music in the back of your heads won't start playing... and your eyes won't meet... and..."

"I don't know," I admit with a shrug. "It just feels over now." I set my mug down with a sigh. Time for a change of subject. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose my job today."

"I swear," Pamela says, reaching over to squeeze my other hand. "Once my old bestie from high school comes through, you've got first dibs on a job, before me."

"I appreciate it," I say with a smile. "Though I have zero experience in graphic design - unless you count those epic cover pages for our book reports back in primary."

Pamela laughs so hard that a little snort comes out. "Oh my God, you and your Comic Sans. Plus, that rainbow background you couldn't seem to get enough of."

"It was a hella pretty rainbow background, I'll have you know," I say stiffly, although a giggle is traveling up my throat.

In the end, Pamela stays with me right until it's time to go for my meeting. She even comes along for the ride there.

"I've got things to do in the city," she says offhand, which may or may not be true. "Anyway, you need the moral support. Even though you're going to totally ace it."

"It might not be up to me," I say, trying not to let my nerves show.

If I let what's working away at me out, then I might just not be able to put it away again.

The roads are annoyingly empty and every light's a green, as if they're all mockingly egging me on towards my doom.

I drop Pamela off before going to park. Then, I walk inside.

Jackson and Peterson. New York's top law firm. Maybe my former employer. Not if I have anything to say about it.

The building is an old train station, with its original facade, all curving arches and a bit of ambitious taupe brickwork. Walking inside, I'm reminded of why I fell in love with the place. Brimming and bustling with productive, talented people doing productive, talented things, it breathes efficiency.

Not like that student government job I had back in college where every other employee had a tab open to Facebook for the seven hours a day they did little to no work, no. Here, productivity is a way of life.

Even the receptionist is busy, four calls on hold while she talks to the fifth, nodding to me to go in.

This is it. Today's the day.

The day when everything could change.

Last time I came in here nervous and uncertain was for my interview. Everyone looked older, more sure of themselves than I felt. Part of me vibrated with a certainty that they'd laugh