belong.” I pause, hoping that I’m getting through to him. “I don’t even want to hang up . . . I need you. Please come over . . . I’m begging.”
The other end stays deathly silent, and I screw up my face in pain.
“I love you,” I whisper. The beep sounds, and I am cut off. I throw the phone onto the lounge and begin to cry.
What the hell is happening?
With my heart in my throat, I walk into the Miles Media building. It’s eight thirty in the morning, and I’m coming to work.
Jay didn’t call me back last night, and I can’t say that I blame him.
I cried myself to sleep . . . well, I didn’t really sleep, so I don’t think it counts. I’ve got this sick lead ball in my stomach, and it won’t go away.
I have no one to blame for this fucking mess but myself. I lied to my love, and it backfired, and now he thinks the worst. So I’m here today to do the best job that I can of making it up to him.
He’s hurt . . . I know he is.
My poor man seemingly has the whole world against him, and I’m so worried about him. How much stress can a man take before he cracks?
I get into the elevator and swipe my security card to the top floors, and a red light comes up. I frown. No. I swipe it again, and the red light flickers again.
“No, Jay . . . don’t do this,” I whisper through tears. “Don’t you fucking lock me out.”
I swipe it again; the red light flickers once more. “You son of a bitch,” I whisper angrily. I hit the fortieth-floor button, and the green light appears. My heart begins to hammer hard in my chest. He’s blocked my access to his floor.
I take out my phone and text him.
Are you serious?
You can’t even talk to me?
The elevator doors open, and I stride out onto my floor as I try to calm my anger down.
I know he’s got a lot going on, but he knows this is hurting me, and he doesn’t seem to care.
Is this how he works? He’s just going to cut me from his life without even letting me explain? I sit at my desk and stare into space. My leg bounces in anger . . . what do I do? How do I make him understand that this is all a misunderstanding if he won’t even talk to me?
A group of girls walk out of the elevator and begin to walk down the corridor, and then they all stop on the spot when they see me, as if shocked. I stare at them, and they exchange looks and then smirk to each other. “Hi.” One of them fakes a smile.
“Hi,” I reply. I turn and switch on my computer. Great. Now I’m the office gossip as well—can this fucking situation get any worse?
“Yay, you’re here,” Molly’s familiar voice sounds from behind me.
I swing in my chair toward her, and her face falls when she sees mine. “Oh, baby,” she whispers as she puts her arms around me. “Are you all right?”
“He’s blocked my access to his floor,” I whisper against her shoulder.
“What?” she whispers as she fixes my hair. “He’s just . . .” She hesitates. “God, I don’t even know what to say, Em.”
I stare sadly at my computer.
“Let’s just get our work done, and we can brainstorm over lunch.” She smiles as she rubs my shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Over the next half hour, I watch on as everyone arrives for their day, sees me, and then proceeds to whisper to the person next to them.
I’m not only the office gossip; I’m the office slut. The idiot who played upon the CEO with the company douche . . . I’m embarrassed, I’m ashamed, and this is appalling.
It’s four o’clock, and Jameson hasn’t answered any of my calls. I think I’m losing my mind.
Aaron thinks I should give him time. Molly thinks I should be dropped onto his floor by a helicopter . . . either that or bomb the whole floor.
Me . . . I just want to crawl under a rock and hide.
Molly returns from the photocopy room and smiles sweetly over at me.
“What?”
“Say, ‘Thank you, Molly. You’re a lifesaver.’” She smirks.
I frown.
She passes me over a security card, and I stare at it in my hand. “What’s this?”
“It’s Melissa’s card to get to the top floors. I stole it.”
My