“Okay,” I whispered to my reflection, my cheeks already pink with excitement. “Calm down. Let him lead the conversation. Don’t seem desperate.”
I typed back quickly:See you.
*****
The pub was too warm, almost stifling after the cold walk. Snow melted in my hair, droplets sliding down to my jacket. Itook in the worn wooden tables and tarnished brass fixtures. The soft amber lighting made everything look golden and intimate.
Derek and I claimed this corner table five minutes ago. Just the two of us... getting here ahead of everyone else. Exactly as he planned.
But he hadn’t looked up from his phone once since we sat down. His thumb moved in quick succession—tap, scroll, tap again. Between his brows was a deep furrow, and he looked more exhausted than I’d seen him all day. The case was eating him alive, and I heard how much pressure Jack and Owen put on their associates.
I wanted to reach out and smooth the line between his eyebrows. I wanted to tell him it was okay to put the phone down for five minutes, that he didn’t have to prove anything to me. But I didn’t want to overstep.
“Derek?” I said softly, leaning forward so I wouldn’t startle him. “Is everything okay with the case?”
“Hmm?” He glanced up, eyes scanning the place before landing on me. His thumb was still twitching.
I offered a small, encouraging smile. “If there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to say the word. I’ll make sure they’re prepped for tomorrow.“
Derek sighed, a long, weary sound, and set the phone down. Just barely. His fingers still hovered like he might snatch it back any second.
“The case is fine. You’re very helpful, Eunice. Thank you.” His voice had leveled out, calmer than the version I’d watched all day. “Sorry. Got distracted there for a minute.”
“No, it’s fine. I understand.”
“Actually, I’m glad we have a chance to talk.” He picked up a coaster, turning it over in his hands. “I want to clear something up. Make sure we’re on the same page.”
My heart did a joyful little dance.Clear something up.He wanted to define us. He wanted to stop the guessing game and just… be honest about how we felt.
“Okay,” I breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I tried to look supportive and understanding. The perfect partner who could handle a man with ambition. “I’m listening.”
“You know I think you’re great, right? You’re sweet, you work hard.” He studied the coaster like it held secrets. “But I’m worried you might be reading too much into things. That night, we had drinks.”
My smile faltered. “What about it?”
“We had a few drinks after a long day. Things happen. It’s biology. But you’re acting like…” He paused, his voice taking on that gentle tone people use when they’re about to deliver terrible news. “You’re reading way too much into some friendly conversation. That’s actually concerning. Do you do this often? Mistake kindness?”
I blinked. The noise of the pub seemed to drop away, leaving only a high-pitched ringing. I was still smiling, my face frozen in that expression of support, but my brain had stalled.
“Concerning?” I repeated, the word tasting like ash.
“Look, I was being nice to you because you seemed lonely. That’s what decent guys do.” His voice was patient, like he were explaining something obvious to someone slow. “But I’m starting to think you misunderstood what that meant.”
It felt like the floor had disappeared from under my chair. “But you said—you told me I was different. That you’d been thinking about me.”
“Did I say that? I don’t remember saying anything like that.” He frowned, genuine confusion creasing his features. “Are you sure you didn’t just want me to say that?”
My ribs suddenly felt too small for my lungs. Every breath hurt. “I’m not making it up, Derek. You said we have spark.”
“Eunice.” That soft, reasonable tone—the one that made you feel like you were losing your mind. Shouting would’ve left a cleaner wound. “I think you might be confusing what you wanted to hear with what actually happened.”
I stared at him. My left contact lens was scratching my eye, blurring him slightly. I wondered if I blinked hard enough he’d disappear.
“Look, this trip is my entire future. It’s my one shot to prove to Jack Rutherford I’m more than just a favor. You think he will promote the guy who is messing around with the support staff on a business trip? No, he promotes the guy who understands optics. Doingthis,”—he waved a hand at me, at us sitting at the same table—“makes me look unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional,” I echoed.
“You’re a sweet girl, really. But you have to understand. I’m a lawyer, and you’re just an admin assistant. I thought that was obvious. I mean, what did you think was going to happen here?” He said it like I was a gum on his shoe. Like he were doing me a favor, opening my eyes, protecting me from my own pathetic delusions.
