Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,77

to keep.

24

My Mistake

LIAM

The work week had been unbearably long.

It seemed the clock moved slower than usual, or maybe it was just that I noticed it while living in solitude. I felt my aloneness acutely. Georgie had folded in on herself, boarding up the shutters as she handled her heartache. Laney had been absent, something to do with her family. I never quite got a straight answer—Georgie barely said more than a sentence at a time, Caroline didn’t give enough of a shit to remember, and Laney wouldn’t speak to me. Wouldn’t even make eye contact with me the one time we’d seen each other.

It had been on the day of the review, when our teams presented our concepts to Georgie in preparation of proposing them to Cooper and Rose. I gave our presentation first, and I couldn’t help but watch Laney for a reaction. Was she impressed? Did she see the merit in what we’d done? Or did she hate it all, me first and foremost? But there was no way to know, not with her gaze stuck on her notebook and her hand in constant motion. It’d be filled of murderous images of me from cover to cover by the time the job was through.

Sadness struck me at the thought.

Her presentation was brilliant, well thought out, and innovative. As she smiled and went through their materials, she occasionally scanned the room, meeting everyone’s eyes but mine.

I’d become a blank space in her world, and I didn’t blame her for it, even if I was sorry. It wasn’t as if I could explain it away again. We were well beyond that.

But as I sat in my office late that Friday night, I considered it again. She was still here working on her final presentation, which we’d deliver Monday to Cooper and Rose. This was it—the last chance to put any finishing touches on our work before it was decided once and for all. Her or me.

My office door had been open for hours, and I could see the light on at her temporary desk, occasionally catching the top of her head over the cubicle wall. That little sliver of her crown shouldn’t have been so distracting. But I found myself glancing at it incessantly, like a mosquito bite I couldn’t stop scratching.

So I decided to quit fighting it. If ever there were a chance to bridge the gap between us, it was now. So I ordered pho from a place she liked, gleaning her favorite meal from the times I’d seen her slurping at it with a pair of chopsticks and the one time we’d ordered for the office. It should have been offensive to watch her eat like that, so sloppy and loud. Instead, I’d watched for the dart of her tongue as she gathered noodles into her mouth or appreciated the way her lips looked when they closed around her chopsticks.

It was sick, really. An affliction of longing. At some point, I knew I’d have to let it go. Move on. But with her here, I didn’t know how I ever would.

When I left my office to meet the delivery guy downstairs, she didn’t look up. She didn’t even notice when I exited the elevator and headed to her cubicle, a little island of light in a sea of darkness. In fact, it wasn’t until I said her name that she finally saw me, and that was only after jumping six inches in her seat and ripping her earbuds out.

“Jesus,” she breathed, sitting back in her chair with her hand on her chest. “Somebody should put a bell on you.”

“Georgie tried, but I bit her.”

An easy laugh slipped out of her before she caught herself, locking down her face and clearing her throat. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Can’t have you winning on Monday, can I?”

“Yes, well. If you’ll excuse me, I really should get back to it—”

“I ordered pho.” I held up the bag stupidly, realizing the sad state of my plan. “It … it’s from the place you like.”

“What the Pho?”

I frowned, not getting the joke. And then I remembered that was the name of the restaurant. I nodded. “Steak, extra spicy, with spring rolls.”

She eyed me with no small amount of suspicion. “How did you know?”

“We ordered once after a meeting.”

“And you remembered what I ordered? I don’t know if that’s sweet or creepy. But I know you’re not sweet, so …”

A smile tugged at my lips in thanks she hadn’t already told me