An unsettling feeling twists my stomach.
She’s been off for a week, which is rare for Meadow. And it’s not like her to be late, especially after a vacation.
“Morning, Owen.”
I turn at the sound of a feminine voice, tearing my gaze away from her desk as my coworker, Amy, steps up beside me.
“Morning,” I say casually, forcing a smile.
“How was your trip?” she asks, holding a steaming cup of coffee between her hands.
The best week of my life, followed by the worst weekend of my life.
Where do I even begin?
“It was, uh—good,” I stammer, completely distracted. Because Meadow is now twenty minutes late.
“Hey,” I start before Amy can reply. “Have you seen Meadow?”
Amy tilts her head and looks at me with confusion.
“She didn’t tell you?” she asks. “She called out today. Wasn't feeling well. I guess y'all's little vacation wore her out,” she chuckles. “Seriously, though, I hope she’s okay. I know the flu is running rampant right now.”
Amy keeps rambling on, but I barely register a word she says after she told me that Meadow called in sick. She says something about her kids screaming in the car on the way to school this morning, then a quick “have a good day” before she heads back to her desk.
I try to move, but I can’t.
I just stand there, staring directly at Meadow’s vacant desk.
She called out today. Wasn’t feeling well.
A humorless breath leaves me.
Yeah, right.
She left the resort early without saying goodbye. She dodged me on the plane. And now she’s not showing up for work.
It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.
Meadow’s not sick. She’s avoiding me like the damn plague.
The realization that Meadow is going to all these lengths to shut me out hits me square in the chest. At this point, I’m not confused or surprised.
Instead, I just feel the sharp, familiar sting of being pushed away once again.
I briefly close my eyes and drag a hand down my face, letting out a deep exhale.
Fine.
If Meadow really wants to end this, she’s going to have to look me in the eyes and say it.
There’s no use in staying here any longer. I’m not going to be able to focus on emails or be productive in meetings when all I can think about is her.
If I just sit here—keep letting her shut me out—if I let this stretch into days or weeks, I’ll lose Meadow for good.
The thought stops my heart, my vision tunneling at the edges as fear takes over.
I’m going to fucking lose her.
