“Monday,” Evelyn confirmed.
Alyssa left, and the office felt emptier without her. Bug, sensing the shift, opened his eyes and looked at Evelyn with what might have been sympathy.
“Don’t start,” Evelyn told him.
Bug yawned.
The weekend passed in its usual haze of work and wine and staring at the city. Evelyn tried to focus on the quarterly reports, on the budget projections, on anything that wasn’t the way Alyssa’s smile had made her feel like a teenager with a crush.
It was ridiculous. She barely knew the woman. They’d had, what, three proper conversations? Four if you counted the apology, which Evelyn was trying very hard not to think about.
But there was something about Alyssa—something warm and solid and real—that made Evelyn want to be around her. To talk to her. To see what would happen if she let herself be something other than the boss for five minutes.
On Sunday night, she texted Maggie.
You
Do you think I’m capable of having a normal relationship?
Maggie
Define normal.
You
You know. Friendship. Connection.
Maggie
Are you drunk?
You
Slightly.
Maggie
Then yes. You’re capable. You’re just scared.
You
Of what?
Maggie
Of being happy. Go to bed, Evie. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Evelyn stared at her phone for a long time after that, Maggie’s words echoing in her head.
Scared of being happy.
Was that it? Was that why she kept everyone at arm’s length, why she worked herself to exhaustion, why she’d let Mindy cheat on her without even putting up a fight?
She thought about her mother, about the way Roslyn had loved fiercely and without reservation. About the way she’d filled every room with warmth and laughter and the kind of joy that made people want to be near her.
Evelyn had spent so long trying to be strong, to be untouchable, that she’d forgotten how to be soft.
But Bug had reminded her. And Alyssa—God, Alyssa—had made her want to try.
