“Uh, looking for Connor,” I say, scanning the horizon, just in case he’s hovering nearby. Maybe he saw me coming and ducked. “Do you know where heis?”
They both go completely silent, blinking at me, then blinking at each other.
“I guess you haven’t heard, then.”
Oh god. “Heard what?”
“Connor quit.”
I goggle at them both. “I—for real?”
“Yeah. He sent out an email to the whole company telling everyone to go fuck themselves and then stormed out, middle fingers in the air.”
I’m struck dumb. “You’re not serious.”
“No, I’m not,” Marty says, smiling. “I’m surprised you fell for that.”
I give a little halfheartedhah.It speaks to my incredibly agitated mental state that I didn’t even questionit.
“He did quit, though, that part he wasn’t kidding about,” John adds.
“So Connor’s not here?”
John shakes his head. “They put him on leave straightaway.” Then adds darkly, “He knows too much.”
I turn on my heel. “OK. Gottago.”
“But you just got here,” he says, incredulous.
Marty says something else, but I don’t catch it. I’m already jogging away.
—
I puzzle over the bewildering news that he’s quit all the way to Brooklyn, the subway car screeching and churning on the tracks beneath me. Connor worried I was going to blow his life up, and it’s hard to deny now that that’s exactly what I did. Ineverthought I’d see the day he left Taskio. What could have happened between then and now? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.
I surprise even myself with the lengths I am willing to go to to get to Connor, slipping past the doorman behind a delivery guy and into the elevators before I’m seen. But outside his apartment door, my courage fails me. Showing up at my ex (colleague? boyfriend?)’s work is one thing (insane), but showing up at his home is another altogether (extra insane).
It’s too late to do anything about it now. I steel myself, force a smile onto my face, and then knock.
The door swings open—but it’s not Connor I come face-to-face with.
It’sBen.
That’s weird.
“Well,” he says, his smile mischievous. “What do we have here?”
“Hey, Ben.”
“Could you hear your ears ringing, Annie?”
So they’ve been talking about me. By way of signs I can’t tell if this is good orbad.
“Uh, no,” I say, my stomach hollowing out. “I just came to talk to Connor.”
“Right this way,” he says, turning down the hallway. I shut the door behind me and follow a few steps behind. I make it into the living room just in time to hear Connor absently ask Ben what got delivered.
A week away from Connor has done nothing to dim his appeal. He looks so impossibly handsome I feel like crying. He’ssitting on the sofa in a gray T-shirt, practically folded over the computer resting on his lap. His hair is wildly disheveled. With one hand, he scrolls along the touchpad. His chin rests on the other.
