Why the fuck does she make it so hard to talk to her? Every sentence holds some form of manipulation or control, and I leave the conversation feeling more broken than when it started. And that’s just a phone call. Actuallybeingin their toxic presence exhausts and drains me even more.
Sometimes I think they enjoy stomping into those grief-shattered pieces of my heart, grinding them into dust beneath their heels.
A quiet knock hits the wall beside my open office door, and thesight of Millie’s beautiful face evaporates all thoughts of my parents. She’s wearing that dress with butterflies on the collar again, and it reminds me of when we collided at the reception desk.
The day that started all of this.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes. Come in. Are you feeling better?” I ask as she pads through the doorway. I turn my chair and reach out my arms in anticipation of her coming over to me, but my brow tenses when she stops on the other side of my desk and takes a seat.
My shoulders tighten as I notice her eyes are rimmed in red. I lean my elbows on the desk, scanning her for any sign of what’s on her mind, but I can’t find any. “Are you okay?”
She presses her lips into a firm line. “Thank you so much for making me soup.” A hint of blush colors her cheeks. “That was... It was really nice of you.” She swallows. “But I wasn’t physically sick. It was more like I needed a mental-health day.”
“What’s going on?” Realization tickles at the back of my mind. “Is it the other applicant?”
“Yes, actually.”
I offer her a sympathetic grin. “I really meant what I said the other day. He’s a good option.” She flinches slightly. “But he’s notbetterthan you. I wish you didn’t have to worry about it.”
Millie nods, biting the inside of her cheek. “But I do have to worry about it.” My brows press together, but she continues. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“You have to promise not to say anything to anyone on the interview panel.”
A knot twists in my stomach. “Okay. I promise.”
Her shoulders droop, hunching like the weight of the world sits atop them. “The other applicant is... He’s my ex-boyfriend. The one I saw at Maggie’s that day.”
My lips part as confusion swoops through my head.
No. There must be a mistake.
The other applicant was a nice guy. He was professional and polite. He complimented Sharon’s necklace and told me he liked my tie.
Millie looks like she wants to throw up. She’s a pale husk of my Millie.
She’s not okay.
My chest pinches tight, and the crease between my brows deepens to the point of a headache. I’m trying my best to reconcile the person I met in that interview with the person I know Millie’s ex to be. But the two are not blending in my head. I can’t picture it.
“What happened?” I ask.
In my gut, I know the answer before she says it, because the pain is etched so clearly in her eyes.
“Well, on Monday, he came in as the Kyle I knew. He was awful, and I basically had a panic attack on the floor after he left.” She scoffs a laugh like she’s trying to make the whole situation seem less than it is.
“Fuck. Are you okay?” Red tints my vision as I round the desk and kneel beside her chair.
I was in the same building and had no idea, and I hate myself for it.
“I wasn’t at the time. So I left on Monday, then called in sick yesterday.” She sighs a deep breath. “And today he’s been what I imagine he portrayed in the interview. The masked version he shows everyone else.”
The fucking bastard. The lying, manipulative asshole. I can’t believe I thought he was a good candidate. I can’t believe I thought he seemed like a decent enough person to work here.
He’s absolutely worthless.
“We have to tell Sharon,” I say.
