Does James somehow feel a similar desperation? My eyes skim over the paper again.Jumping.My mind flits back to James limping into the office after he fell up a step. A deep gash in his leg he said … but … on a step?He didn’t come into the office for two days.
Fuck.
Me.
He didn’t fall up a step, did he? He tried to jump. Where did he try and jump from? And Christ, has he tried anything else? My hand shakes as I grip the book tighter. This isJames.He’s such a decent guy, kind, helpful, good with people. Gorgeous blue eyes, sexy butt …Christ, Sadie, shut up.
He’s also my boss. Why would he want to commit suicide? I mean, it has to be Jane, right? Anger seeps into my bloodstream. I understand the spiraling that comes when something happens that’s out of your control.What control have I ever had? Goddammit. Will he know I’ve seen this bit of paper? I glance down at it, then slide it back between the pages.
What the hell am I supposed to do now? Maybe he needs something to take his mind off everything. You’d think work would do that for him, but perhaps all the responsibility is making it worse. If it was me and I had all this going on in my life, I’d be having a meltdown. I can still hear Des’s words like an echo in my ear.
“Take good care of James, okay?”
I stare down at James’s neatly made bed; white sheets and a dark-blue comforter tucked in all the way around.
Desknows, doesn’t he?
That’swhy he wanted me here. He wanted me to keep an eye on James in case he tried again.Fucking hell. What was he thinking? He couldn’t have picked anyone worse. Des went to the hospital with James after he tripped, but he must have gone for a completely different reason. Maybe he even stopped James from committing suicide! Oh, God! No wonder he was so worried about leaving James here on his own.
In some weird way, perhaps it also explains Mr. Karen. It’s supposed to be a thing, isn’t it, looking after a pet? Giving you the motivation to live. I snort. That cat’s almost as traumatized as James and me.What a threesome we are.I bet Des didn’t foresee that. Mr. Karen’s not going to help James. He needs someone to talk to, possibly some therapy. I want to laugh at myself. How on earth could I suggest to one of my bosses that he should see a psychologist? It’s like a bad sitcom. Des could have already suggested it, of course, and James might have said no, or he might be being treated by somebody and keeping quiet about it. Would you tell a member of your staff you were seeing a shrink? People are direct in New York, but it’s not something you’d broadcast to your team.
Whatever. It’s all a bunch of questions and no answers.
“Did you find the book?” James calls out.
“Yes!” I shout back.
Shit. I’ve been standing here too long. I take a last look around his tidy room like it’ll give me some inspiration on what to do or even say, and walk back into the open-plan living room and kitchen area.
“What an amazing cover!” Is the first thing that spills out of my mouth as I hitch myself back onto the barstool.Smooth, Sadie.
“It’s from the 1970s.The Sands of Marsis about renegade engineers,” James says, with a wink. “I think that’s why I’m enjoying it.”
He takes a sip out of a glass of wine he poured himself earlier, throat moving as he swallows.
“I don’t think I’ve ever read an old science-fiction book,” I fumble out.
“So … never cooked, never read a classic sci-fi … Perhaps we could work on a whole series of firsts for the two weeks you’re living here.” He winks at me again.
Shit.Two weeks. I did say that, didn’t I? The thought of going back to mad Jake and leaving this lovely apartment … leaving James on his own …
“Relax. You’re welcome here for as long as you want. You’re a very easy co-tenant.” His eyes crinkle as he grins at me.
I roll my eyes. “I’ve only been here a couple of days; you haven’t seen how crazy I get on the weekends.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’m expecting wild nights of debauchery given your behavior in the office.”
I put my head in my hands. Perhaps some brute force honesty would help. “I’m so quiet.”
When I bring my head up, he’s blinking at me from behind his glasses, eyes sympathetic. He taps the wooden spoon he’s been using to stir the already delicious-looking food. “What’s wrong with being quiet? I’m not exactly dancing around waving my arms above my head.”
A grin curls over my mouth. I’d like to see that.
“Imagine if we had an office full of Des’s,” he adds.
My eyes widen. “You can’t say that about Des; he’s a gem.”
He waves the spoon in the air. “I know. I’m only kidding.” He chuckles. “It would be mad having a lot of people like him, though.” His smile fades as he gazes down at the mixture bubbling away in the pan. “He’s been an amazing friend to me.” His Adam’s apple bobs. His head is bent and his glasses have slid forward on his nose.
