A tear slips down my cheek, and I let it fall. “This really isn’t helping,” I say. “What if I liked things the way they used to be?”
“Did you?”
“I thought I did!” I snap my eyes back to hers as the words burst out shrill and achy. The missing sock is getting to me. “I thought my life was complete,” I insist. “And then he came along.”
“And he was the missing piece,” she says, carefully tucking my off-white cardigan into the suitcase. “The part you needed to feel totally whole.”
Another tear slips down my face. “Is this how you felt? When you and Dax split up, did you feel like someone filled your chest with hot sand and then kicked you in the head?”
Lisa places the cardigan in my suitcase and flips the lid closed, revealing one crumpled, solitary white sock underneath. I start to reach for it, but Lisa steps around the bed and pulls me into a hug.
“Yes,” she says. “That’s it exactly. And if you’re meant to be together, it’ll happen. It may not look pretty, and it may not go the way you pictured it in your head. Remember that, okay?”
As tears run down my face, I let myself be held and I wait for her words to sink through my soul and comfort me.
But there’s only hollowness and hurt, and the knowledge that Ian Nolan isn’t going to be my husband.
Chapter 16
Ian
“And that concludes my presentation.” I clear my throat and press my hands on the boardroom table as I glance around the room. “Are there any questions?”
Dana Peschka stares at me like she’s waiting for the punchline in a horrible racist joke. She glances at Walter, and they exchange a glance that tells me what I already know:
I’ve just blown it.
“Thank you, Ian,” Dana says with a crisp professionalism that borders on pity. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Right. Thank you.” I stand there like an idiot for a few seconds, trying to come up with something else to say. Some way to make up for the fact that I just delivered a presentation with the emotional depth of a snack-sized Ziploc bag.
Dana shifts in her seat, and Walter just stares. My palms are sweating, and I struggle to come up with some way to connect with my audience. For crying out loud, we’ve worked together for weeks. We’ve shared a staff bathroom and eaten dinner together.
It occurs to me these bits of trivia are not helpful, and also that Dana and Walter are waiting for me to leave. The sinking sensation in my chest isn’t unfamiliar, and neither is the knowledge that someone wants me to go.
Sarah.
I swallow back the lump that’s not new. It lodged itself in my throat Saturday night and hasn’t gone anywhere since.
Struggling to maintain some shred of dignity, I start shoving papers into my briefcase. “If you need to reach me, you have my phone number and email and?—”
“We know how to get ahold of you.” I look up to see Dana pressing her lips together in a tight line. “It’s been a pleasure, Ian. Thank you for fulfilling the terms of your contract.”
“Not a problem.”
If I needed any further indication that their decision is made, that would be it. My contract is up this Friday. There won’t be a job offer on the table at the end of it.
I give a curt nod, then lift my briefcase and shift it to my left hand. “Thank you for the opportunity,” I say to Dana as I shake her hand. “Good luck with everything.” I extend the same handshake to Walter before turning and striding out the door.
So that’s it. That’s how it all ends.
I knew from the start that I was bombing my presentation. My words came out stiff and meaningless. There was data, but no heart. Flowcharts, but no emotion.
I might be emotionally stunted, but even I realize that’s not the way to win a job.
It’s how you blew things with Sarah, too, you idiot.
Gotta appreciate a subconscious that kicks you when you’re down.
