She handled it with a kind of strength I couldn’t help but admire, even as it destroyed me.
I should be working today. Technically, Iamworking by going through the motions, clicking through spreadsheets, answering emails, nodding at the right times, but it’s all background noise. And then there’s Rose, who shot me one of those disappointed looks yesterday. And hell, she was right to give it to me.
I need to fix this, but I’ve got no clue how to start. I’m giving Juliette space, but part of me wonders if it even matters because, for all I know, she’s already gone.Gone for good.
And if she is…then I’ve just let the best damn thing that ever happened to me slip through my fingers.
I never used to believe in the kind of love that snuck up and knocked the breath out of you. Didn’t believe one smile could change a man. Juliette is the exception, and she was braveenough to hand me a piece of her heart when she had every reason not to.
It doesn’t matter that it was fleeting or that we didn’t have years to build it. I didn’t need time or logic to know it was real. And now, I’ve hurt her in a way that makes her look at me like she doesn’t even recognize me.
That’s a look I don’t know how to come back from.
Fuck.
A knock at my office door snaps me out of it. Callan’s leaning against the frame, gauging just how much of a disaster I am.
“Hey,” he says. “How’s it going?”
I exhale as I drop my gaze back to the screen, pretending I’m in the middle of something important instead of spiraling in my own head.
“Mm. Everything’s fine. Business as usual.”
“Cut the crap.”
All right, then. No room for small talk today. He’s done with the sidestepping.
I glance up, meeting his stare head-on. He’s gotthatlook. Arms crossed, shoulders squared, settled into the doorframe like he’s in no rush to leave. I’m not getting out of this conversation.
I exhale, long and slow, leaning back in my chair. The ceiling suddenly looks interesting. “What do you want me to say? That I’m a mess? That I royally screwed up and have no damn clue how to fix it?”
Callan’s voice is quieter but more dangerous for it. “You can start by being honest with yourself. And quit drinking yourself into oblivion every night when you leave here.”
I don’t flinch, but he knows he’s hit his mark. I’ve never been one to lean on booze. Never needed or wanted to. I don’tknow if I’m drinking to remember or to forget. Either way, it’s not working.
“You’re right,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “I don’t know how to face this sober. Don’t know if I evenwantto.”
He pushes off the doorframe and steps inside, dropping into the chair across from me. “She’s still here, you know. Flight leaves tomorrow.”
The words land like a punch to the ribs. My heart kicks once, hard. “How do you know that?”
He shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have my sources. Rose, mostly.”
Figures.
“Cal, I can’t just?—”
“You can’t just, what?” he cuts in. “Keep sitting here, pretending you don’t care? Keep drowning yourself in whisky like that’s gonna change anything?”
“I—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “You’ve been sulking around here for days. A mess every night. Hell, even my little fur nephew gave me a call and said his dad hasn’t been meeting his usual cuddle quota.” He presses his hand to his chest, pouting dramatically. “Heartbreaking, really.”
I shoot him a look, but he just grins. “Point is, I know you. If you don’t try, you’re gonna regret it.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to say? Oops, my bad, didn’t mean to ruin everything, lie to you, and shatter your heart. Please don’t go?”
I drag a hand down my face, running through every scenario in my head. They all end the same way—Juliette walking away more upset than she already is.
