I must be hallucinating. I fully expected to be shown a brown box full of my things and then the door.
“Drew, it’s good to see you.” He takes the final few steps and comes to stand in front of me, both hands tucked into gray dress pants. “How are you doing?”
I gaze down at the black suit dress I’m wearing, feeling like an idiot for not going with the jeans and sweater I initially picked out this morning. Still, if I’m going to fall from grace, I might as well do it in style.
“I’ve been better,” I reply honestly. “The past few days haven’t been my favorite.”
He turns on his heel and leads me up the staircase of doom—which it shall now be known as—before using his working fob to enter the open plan office.
The familiar smell of paperwork was once a comfort to me. I loved being here, no matter how stressful the day turned out to be. Now, the scent rolls my stomach as I refuse to make eye contact with any colleagues who have already arrived. I don’t even glance at my desk since I don’t want to see all my things packed away and waiting for me.
Colton pushes the boardroom door open and holds it for me to enter. When I finally look ahead and see the projector set up and switched on, Will’s Instagram profile page lights up the darkened room.
Fuck. What’s happened now?
“Take a seat, Drew.” Colton’s voice remains warm, and now I’m really confused.
Downstairs, I suspected he was putting on a show for Dawn’s benefit, and now I’m wondering if he’s one of those people who acts friendly right before they totally lose their shit.
I take a spot in my usual seat and set my bag down on the floor next to me. He takes the one opposite, folding his hands together on a deep sigh.
I glance again at Will’s profile, noticing that his picture has changed from an action shot I selected when I first took over his socials. The new picture is one from when he was younger. He must be only sixteen in this photo, and I’m pretty sure it was taken by me one year at a Christmas party.
Blinking a couple of times, I push back the tears threatening to form.
“I’ve run through numerous ways I could conduct today’s meeting,” Colton begins talking. “How I could remind you of the fraternization clause in your contract, which clearly states romantic relationships with clients is strictly prohibited.”
I swallow hard, but don’t say anything.
Colton’s professional expression softens a fraction, and my shoulders lower an inch.
“In reality, Drew, I know you don’t need to be reminded of the rules. Since the day you walked through these doors as an intern, you’ve set an example for your colleagues, even to some of the more experienced members on the team.”
I know Colton means every word, and I truly appreciate his kindness. That doesn’t stop the next words from leaving me. If anything, his benevolence compels me further.
“It’s okay, Colton. I value everything you said, but I want you to know it’s fine, and I expect you to let me go. My actions were unacceptable, and I was already on a warning. You have to do what’s best to protect your business and its reputation.”
Colton looks at me, pensive eyes examining my face before he pulls his open laptop toward him and clicks the Message button on Will’s profile.
I hold my breath when I see Will’s face in his private messages.
“Last night, before I went to bed, I decided to torture myself once more and check social media.” He hovers the cursor over the Play button set in the center of the video from Will. “Of all the messages I anticipated receiving, this wasn’t one of them. Around twenty minutes ago, Will set this video live on all of his social media platforms.”
Colton lowers the volume and hits Play, resting back in his chair as I sit forward in mine.
My palms sweat when the video begins with Will adjusting the camera in his living room and then taking a seat on his couch. He looks so handsome in black jeans and a white button-down shirt, open at the collar, but he’s missing the gold chain I’m wearing right now.
I smooth my fingers over the compass around my neck, and Will opens his mouth. He isn’t smiling, and his eyes are bloodshot and puffy.
“Hey, guys,” he begins in a small voice, which breaks my heart. “Will Jones here, your favorite—or maybe not-so-favorite—hockey player.”
I try to swallow, but it feels impossible; my mouth is so dry.
“I, err …” He slides a hand through his tousled hair, appearing stressed. “I didn’t plan on making this video, so I haven’t made notes or rehearsed anything I’m about to say.”
“Oh fuck,” I voice my inner dread, and Colton softly chuckles.
“I guess, by now, a lot of you are already aware of and have likely formed an opinion on the events of the past few days.” Will braces his elbows on his knees, shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his arms. “I think it’s only human nature to be presented with a set of circumstances or a narrative and to believe only what we’re being told. A lot of the time, it feels safe to follow the crowd and tell ourselves that we could never make a mistake like that or be mortal enough to fall in love with the one person you shouldn’t.”
