His voice was deep, warm. His green eyes caught mine like a hook. “Looks like you had a rough weekend.”
He winked, handing over my scattered pages and lifting me to my feet like I weighed nothing.
I tried, God, I tried to smooth down my hair, fix my clothes, wipe the mascara smudge that was probably still painting a bruise under my left eye. But let’s be real if even the mail guy can see how wrecked I am, I’m not fooling anyone. I looked exactly likewhat I was, heartbroken, unravelling, barely holding the pieces together.
“Something like that,” I murmured, too hollow to offer more.
Before I could catch my breath, my name rang out sharp and impatient bouncing off the glass walls like a warning bell.
“Penn!”
Goddammit.
A weak smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, broken and crooked. He grinned back, a lightness I couldn’t touch anymore dancing in his eyes.
“Later,” he said, soft and amused, and then he was gone swallowed by the elevator like he was never there at all.
“Penn!”
My name again, echoing louder now, heavier.
And so, I ran.
Rushing into the conference room felt like stepping into a spotlight I hadn’t earned.
Every pair of eyes turned, but only one held molten raging heat Carrie’s.
She was standing at the glass, arms folded like an exclamation mark, waiting. Watching. Judging. Knowing.
Each sleep-deprived step toward the table made my limbs quake harder, like my body was rejecting being vertical. Like it knew I should still be curled up in the closet in his hoodie, choking on grief and the ghost of his cologne.
Tears pricked behind my eyes as soon as I saw her face.
Carrie. My best friend and my boss.
All I wanted was to collapse into her arms, let her hold me while I screamed out the pain. But right now, I needed her tobe her most terrifying self. The version who never blinked. Who snapped and barked orders and pretended life didn’t cave in.
“What the actualfuck, Penn?” she snapped, sharp and clipped.
Her PA flinched beside her like she’d been shot. Poor thing still startled every time Carrie opened her mouth.
“Long night,” I muttered, dragging my limbs into the chair she’d pointed at.
My chair. Editor in Chief, but still the one Carrie micromanaged. It was familiar. I needed that.
“Fucking looks it. Sit.”
I did. I didn’t remember half the meeting.
It was all white noise.
Words blurred into one another. My notes remained untouched. I could hear my own heartbeat like a war drum in my ears. My body was in the room, but my mind was still kneeling on the floor of our house, watching Blake walk away with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his promises scattered behind him like dead leaves.
“You’ll always be worth the pain,”he’d said.
Then why the fuck did you leave?
Every now and then, someone in the meeting would say something loud enough to jolt me back. I’d blink, nod, fake a smile. Then fall again into the pit.
