“That’s your plan? Pretend?”
“You have a better one?”
She considers. “You could tell Trevor.”
“Absolutely not.”
“He’d understand—”
“He’d kill Daniel. Then he’d kill me. Then he’d bring us both back to life and kill us again.” I lean forward. “Trevor can’t know. Ever.”
“So you’re just going to work with this guy every day? See him in meetings? Pretend he didn't make you scream—”
“Yes.” I cut her off before she could finish that sentence. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Gretchen studies me over the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re still attracted to him.”
It’s not a question.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“That’s a yes.”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because she’s right.
Yesterday, standing in my parents’ backyard, I felt it, the pull, the awareness humming under my skin every time Daniel moved, every time he spoke, every time Trevor said his name, and I had to force myself not to react.
It should be easier after seeing him in that context. He is my brother’s friend, and he is off limits.
Instead, it’s made everything worse.
“Bay.” Gretchen’s voice is gentle now. “You can’t help who you’re attracted to.”
“I can help what I do about it.”
“Which is nothing.”
“Which is nothing,” I confirm.
She sighs. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing the right thing. Trevor would lose his mind. And workplace relationships are messy even when they’re not with your brother’s best friend slash your boss.”
“Thank you.”
“But—”
“There’s always a but.”
“But you’re allowed to feel things.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “It was supposed to be one night.”
“I know.”
“One night to forget about Derek. One night to feel wanted. One night and then move on.”
“Life doesn’t work that way.”
“Apparently not.”
