She doesn’t chew my shoe.
She just stands there with me—two figures in the storm—watching the night swallow the man I might have loved.
And probably still do.
22
404: LOVE NOT FOUND
LUKE
No one ever warned me that one day I’d be staring at the best quarterly reports in Sterling Security's history while feeling like absolute shit.
Outside, Seattle is doing its November thing.Rain turns into a snowy slush that whispers of winter just around the corner.
And it’s been eleven, so far.
Eleven days since I drove away from Sage's inn.
It’s hard not to fucking count them.
"These numbers are incredible," Kenji says, gesturing at the wall display showing SafeStay's metrics."Implementation success rate is up 400%.Customer satisfaction is at 98%.And the reviews..."
He pulls up the latest batch, and I force myself to focus on the screen instead of wondering what Sage is doing right now.
Probably wrestling Buttercup.
Or fixing something while swearing like a sailor.Or?—
"'Revolutionary security that actually understands hospitality,'" Kenji reads."'Finally, a system that protects without imprisoning guests.'Luke, this is what we dreamed about when we started."
"Great," I say flatly.
He frowns."You know, most CEOs would show some emotion when their product stops taking ambassadors hostage and starts getting rave reviews."
"I'm showing emotion."
"Which emotion?"
"Satisfaction."
"You look like someone murdered your goldfish."
"I don't have a goldfish."
"Metaphorical goldfish."He leans against my desk."This is about the innkeeper, isn't it?"
"No."
"The innkeeper whose data revolutionized our entire platform?"
"She's not—It's not about her."
"Right.That's why you've been living at the office for three weeks and your assistant has started hiding your car keys after 10 PM."
"Daniella's exaggerating."
"You tried to sleep here Monday night."
