I close my eyes briefly. Talia’s been here for years, and he still doesn’t know her name.
“No, nothing, Mr Baxter,” she replies.
“Perfect. Thanks, Tracey.”
He turns toward the elevators.
“Talia,” I say, loud enough to stop him. He pauses and turns back. “Her name is Talia.”
She blushes, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping her. “It’s fine. Tracey’s fine.”
I look at her. “But it’s not your name.”
“Leoni,” Warren says softly, like he’s not quite sure I’m real.
Talia retreats into the office, closing the door as Warren steps closer.
“I’m just returning my laptop and the car,” I say quickly.
“They’re yours,” he replies. “Keep them.”
“I’d rather not.”
He studies my face. “Are you… okay?”
“Just peachy,” I mutter.
“Can we—” He hesitates. “Do you want to come upstairs? Or at least sit down and talk?”
“No.”
“Lee—”
“No.”
He looks genuinely lost.
Talia reappears and slides the copies across the desk. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Talia,” I say pointedly, over-emphasising her name.
“About that,” Warren cuts in, turning to her. “I’m sorry. You should have said something.”
“It isn’t her job to correct you,” I snap, anger flaring sharp and sudden. “You’re her boss. The bare minimum is learning her name.”
Talia offers an awkward smile and disappears again.
The silence between Warren and me is heavy. And for the first time since I met him, I realise, I’m not the one feeling small.
He turns the pile of CVs toward him, scanning the top page briefly. “I can give you a reference,” he says. “Just put my direct line.”
I gather them up quickly, pressing the papers to my chest like armour. “Thanks.”
I turn on my heel and head for the door.
My hand is already on the handle when something inside me rebels. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the part of me that refuses to walk away without saying the one thing that’s been tearing me apart.
I stop.
