Silent tears race down my cheeks. I loved those fucking brownies. The sobs well up, and I slam the lid of the laptop, ashamed. The unbidden confession rips open a wound I thought had long healed, and I rub at one of the scars along my arm as if I can shove the words back inside and erase the memories of asking for Royce in the hospital time and time again when the doctors debated takingmyleg.
I stumble into the kitchen, desperate for something to dull the pain—to quash the taste of cinnamon on my tongue—Nana’s secret brownie ingredient—or the scent of roses from my mama’s perfume. The fiery cascade of bourbon ensures I won’t taste a damn thing for a while, and after the second generous pour disappears, I force myself to stopper the bottle. Getting drunk won’t solve anything—I’m well aware of that—but the slight buzz has the desired effect. I can breathe again, and now regretseepsin.
I run a shaking hand through my hair and sniffle loudly. Maybe HuskyFan is right. West could hear about my colorful youth and laugh. Or he could be one more person wholeaves.
12
Cam
The flower vendorgrins as she hands me a single daisy. “They’re my favorite, too,” she says. “Most folks pass ‘em over for the roses or the lilies, but daisies can hold their petals for two whole weeks if you treat ‘emright.”
I twirl the yellow flower in my fingers, the petals blurring as she tells me exactly how to keep the flower fresh. Just a small amount of water, changed often, and sunlight. I can do that. Once today’s over. With how little sleep I managed the previous night, I’ll have no end of challenges waiting for me in the basement server room. At least this little beauty will keep mecompany.
As I enter the hotel, my phonebuzzes.
I need to see you tonight. Please tell me you’ll be up if I come overaround10?
This week promises to try to break me, and I need every minute I can spare to finish Oversight so the testing can begin. With ten days until LaCosta wants the system fully implemented, I’m scrambling, but seeing West…having his arms around me for even a few minutes would beheaven.
I can’t promise to be goodcompany.
The phone rings before I can slip the device back into my pocket. “What’s wrong?” When I don’t immediately answer, West clears his throat, and some of the hoarseness in his voice quiets. “I probably won’t be good company either, but we’d betogether.”
“This job is killing me.” I sink down onto one of the plush benches that line the lobby. “Every day, something else breaks. If I can’t stop the bleeding, Oversight…everything Royce has built, everything I’ve worked for these past three years…we’ll loseitall.”
“I thought you had help. There are other programmers at your firm,right?”
“This is my baby, West. Royce trusted me, and I promised him we’d be okay.” Dropping my head into my free hand, I try to shut down the memory of the last promise I made Royce, but my feeble attempt falls flat, and all I can see is his much-younger face, his flack jacket, the helmet that always seemed a little too small for him. “I have to fix Oversight. I don’t have achoice.”
“You always have a choice, angel. Your options might suck, but you always have a choice.” Sadness laces his tone, and I ache to wrap my arms around him. Words fail me, and he sighs. “I’ve got a class in five minutes. I’ll see youtonight?”
“Sure.” Only after he hangs up do I realize I never asked him why he wouldn’t be good company. Score another “F” for me on the “Caring Girlfriend”reportcard.
As I adjust my laptop bag, I catch sight of Al heading for the freight elevators. “Al! Hold up aminute.”
He stops, turning slowly as I reach his side. “‘Morning. Niceflower.”
I can’t help my smile as I glance at the daisy. “My father used to bring these to my mother all the time, and the flower cart outside had a huge display thismorning.”
Al shifts from foot to foot as the elevator numbers slowly count down. “I’ve got to get up to twelve. Lucas isexpectingme.”
“I’ll ride with you.” We don’t speak again until the doors seal us in, and I can’t help noticing his bloodshot eyes as he darts a quick glance in my direction. “Youokay?”
He forces a smile. “Fine. Long couple of days. Half the crew and I worked ten hours yesterday. We’re headed to thirteen afterlunch.”
We’re almost a floor ahead, and if the guys can keep up this pace, I might get Lucas back in time to help me customize the last two modules. “You’re doing great work. I know you’re new to the company, but Royce is pretty cool about time off after big projects. You can bank on at least a couple of paid days off once we go live.” I step out into the hall and wait for him to join me. “Hang in there a littlelonger.”
“I’ll try.” His phone trills as he clips his ID card to his belt. “I’ve got to take this.” The thick carpet muffles his footfalls as he practically races down the hall. “I told you I took care of it,” he mutters before he turns thecorner.
Al’s weekend may have sucked, but Lucas is a ray of sunshine. “You wanted results, we’ve got ‘em, hon. All of the cameras on the lower floors are working, and the last batch of hardware is out fordelivery.”
I high-five him, and the knot in the pit of my stomach eases. We chat for a few minutes, and then he drops his voice to a whisper. “TechLock is supposed to get back to metoday.”
Boom. The stress crashes down, and I exhale a deep breath, trying to release some of my worry over losing Lucas with a sigh. When I turn to him, a desperate need for approvalgreetsme.
Offering a supportive smile as I shove my own insecurities aside, I pat his arm. “I know they’ll love you. Just…don’t forget about us when you’re all brilliant-project-manager dude knocking them dead with yourtalent.”
He nods, his eyes shining, and I head for the computer room before my emotions runhaywire.
