“J, you ain’t gotta do that,” he said, his voice firm now. “Cry it out if you need to. Nobody’s gonna judge you here. Least of all me.”
I blinked again, still trying to hold back the tears, but his words broke something in me.
“I’m just so tired,” I whispered, barely audible.
“I know,” he said simply. He reached out and pulled me into him.
His body was so warm. I let myself melt into it.
“Let me take care of you for a while. With everything that happened and the fact that you’ve been working nonstop, you need to breathe,” he offered.
For a moment, I hesitated, knowing this was a door I might not be able to close once it opened. Still, I found myself saying the one word that felt like surrender.
“Okay.”
nine- Oak
The boardroom was freezing, but the chill couldn’t touch the numbness wrapped around me. I sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, while some analyst droned on about performance metrics. His voice was just a buzz in my ears. I hadn’t heard a word.
One month and one week.
That’s how long it had been since Jordin left me standing at the police station. A month of unreturned calls, ignored texts, and divorce papers piling up on my desk like accusations. I wasn’t signing shit. She’d made her point, but she was taking it too far. She would have to look me in the eye and tell me she wanted to end fifteen years over one mistake.
I’d let my ego and my dick talk me into the biggest error of my life. And now, the woman I built my world around was giving me a taste of what that world would be like without her in it—devastatingly silent.
“Mr. Black?”
I looked up. The entire boardroom was staring. The mid-level exec had frozen mid-sentence, his face pale, as if I’d fire him for the crime of interrupting my thoughts.
“Good work. Wrap it up,” I barked, having no idea what he’d said. I stood, the chair screeching against the floor, and walked out, leaving a wake of whispers behind me. Let them talk. I didn’t give a fuck.
Back in my office, I ripped my tie off like it was a noose and collapsed into my chair. The panoramic view of Tampa Bay usually centered me. Now, it just looked like a postcard from a life I was no longer living. I felt hollowed out. My family was worried.Iwas worried. The desperate, ugly thoughts were starting to whisper—thoughts about doing something drastic to get her back, or just… giving up.
The door burst open without a knock. I didn’t need to look up; the cloying, floral perfume announced Olivia.
“Do you knock?” I asked dryly.
“We need to talk,” she said, her voice trembling. She shut the door and stood there, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently against the tile.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “There’s nothing to talk about, Olivia.”
I was still figuring out how to fire her without a lawsuit. Keeping her anywhere near me was a guarantee Jordin would never come back. For now, she was banished to another department.
“Don’t!” she whined, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. “Don’t act like we didn’t have something. Like I didn’t mean anything to you.”
A sharp, humorless laugh escaped me. I finally looked at her. “You didn’t. It was a fuck. A few of them. And not even that good.”
The bitter thought of Jordin casually dismissing her as “Jenny or Janet” flashed in my mind. That’s all Olivia was—so insignificant my wife couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name.
Her face crumpled, tears welling in her eyes even as she forced a laugh. “You’re a liar. You’re just mad because Jordin’s playing house with that singer, Ciarán, and it’s killing you.”
My stomach twisted into a cold knot, but I kept my face a blank mask. “Get out, Olivia.”
“You’re pathetic,” she hissed, her voice shaking with rage. “She’s gone, Oak. She’s on a private beach with another man—a richer, more famous one—while you sit here crying over her.”
“I said, get out.” My voice was dangerously quiet.
She wiped her tears with a furious swipe of her hand. “I’m reporting you to HR.”
