“Let’s not talk about who the asshole is here,” I say, sobering. “We both know it’s you. It was your idea that put Noah on the team in the first place, and it was your idea that ruined everything there was between us.”
“Oh, please. If it wasn’t for me, you never would have met him. And I’m going to overlook the fact that you thought he was me.” His smile turns sly. “Shit, man. I had no idea you’d been crushing on me.”
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. Now that I’ve spent time with Noah, I’m wondering how the hell I ever could have liked Kellan. He’s the life of the party, sure, but that’s not me. I much prefer Noah’s quiet reservation and vulnerability.
“Thing of the past,” I say. “Now where’s Noah?”
Kellan gives me a funny look. “You don’t know? He left for his internship two days ago.”
Stomach and heart both sink. I had no idea.
Shit.
Noah mentioned it’s for the summer. That’s a few months long. “He’s coming back, right?”
With a comical expression, Kellan gestures around the room, which I hadn’t noticed until now. It’s empty except for the couch, the coffee table, and a few stacked boxes. It hits me then. He’snotcoming back. The ship has already sailed.
“His plan is to find a job out in Seattle,” Kellan explains, frowning at the huge stain on his shirt. “I was just packing up the last of his things for him.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Why did I wait so long to talk to him? “Do you know where he’s staying?” I ask.
Kellan lifts his chin, in full-blown protective brother mode. “That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether you’re going after him.”
After a flight to the Sea-Tac International Airport, and another hour trying to figure out how to get to Noah’s place of work, I now stand outside a beautiful building made entirely of glass. It gleams in the faint sunlight leaking through the cloud cover overhead. Sweat coats my palms. A light drizzle hits my jacket and the duffel bag slung over my shoulder—my only clothes for the week.
Whatever happens after walking through those doors, at least I’ll know I gave it a shot. My dad always talks of living life with no regrets. At the end of his life, instead of thinking, “I wish I had done that,” he can say, “At least I tried.”
“Well,” I say to my reflection in the glass. “At least I tried.”
Before I can change my mind, I enter the building. It’s an airy, chamber-like space. An open-floor plan, which a lot of businesses are moving to nowadays. The majority of the employees are young—in their twenties and thirties—and the dress is casual, but not slovenly. Both men and women work on their Mac desktops, typing away. A few speak on phones.
I approach the receptionist’s desk. A woman in purple cat glasses greets me with a smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Hi. I’m here to see Noah Dumont.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
I need an appointment? “Well, no.” I shift my bag to my other shoulder. “He doesn’t know I’m here, actually.” I’m starting to worry the receptionist will kick me out of this bright, clean office, but her smile softens in understanding, and she nods, picks up the phone, and tells me to have a seat.
So I sit, and I wait. The woman’s voice is too low for me to hear. A few moments later, she gestures me toward her desk, and I spring to my feet.
“You can go through those doors.” She gestures to a pair of stained wooden doors. “Take the hallway on your left all the way to the room at the end.”
My heart flips in my chest. I’m sweating through my shirt. Ugh, probably shouldn’t have eaten that Wendy’s frosty on the way over, but my body was running at such a high temperature I needed something to cool me down.
“Thanks,” I croak, and stroll in the complete opposite direction of the doors.
“Sir,” she calls, and I turn. “That way.” She points to where I’m supposed to go, and I nod in understanding, my smile strained.
“Right. Thanks.”
Through the doors. Hallway on the left. Walk all the way down. I stop to get a drink of water from the water fountain because my mouth is dry. My head feels like it’s going to explode.
“Can I help you, sir?”
