I didn’t want to miss him. Missing him meant I cared, and caring meant I’d crossed a line I’d told myself was uncrossable, and crossing it meant everything I’d said about being just his assistant was a lie I’d been telling myself louder than I was telling him.
The things I’d said on the balcony came back to me in pieces. At night, on Miley’s couch, staring at the ceiling. In the morning, brushing my teeth. During lunch, sitting at my desk with his empty office in my peripheral vision.Imoved across the country to be invisible.I’d blamed him for making me front-page news, and accused him like he’d done it on purpose when I was equally at fault.
I asked Miles on the fourth day and kept it professional. Casual. Just checking in on the schedule situation.
Miles looked at me like he could see what I was actually asking underneath the question I was pretending to ask.
"The paparazzi's attention triggered him," he said. "Cameras. Being watched. His image circulating without his consent. It connects to something in his past." He paused. "Exposure is… it’s not just uncomfortable for him, Anna. It’s dangerous. For his mental health."
"Triggered by what?"
He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "It’s not my place to tell you. Jace should tell you himself. If he choosesto." He turned back to me. "Look, Anna. I don’t know what happened between you two. And I’m not asking. But if you don’t care about him, the kindest thing you can do is leave him alone. He’ll come back when he’s ready. Jace runs on logic. He’ll compartmentalize, show up, act like nothing happened." He paused.
"But if you do care about him, then you need to figure out what that means. Because he’s not the kind of man who does this halfway."
He held my gaze for a beat longer, and walked away.
If he chooses to.
When he’s ready.
Two phrases that sounded reasonable and felt like being told to sit still while someone I’d hurt was hurting somewhere I couldn’t reach.
The employees’ whispers hadn’t helped.
I heard them in the break rooms and in the corridors when they thought nobody was listening.
Today, I heard fragments.Is he okay? Someone said it might be a long time before he shows up again. I heard it was about the photo. Did you see the photo? Are they really in a relationship? She started here like a month ago.
They talked about him like he was a weather event. Something that happened to them, not a person who was going through something. I wanted to walk into the break room and say the same thing I’d said to those Meridian employees.
Then it struck me—I wasn’t defensive about myself. My concern was Jace. Not my reputation, not the gossip about me, not even the photo. Just him.
Priya found me in the break room on Friday afternoon, staring at the vending machine, lost in thought.
"Are you alright?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah. I am. I mean… I think so."
She held my gaze for a few seconds, then nodded.
"He does this," she said, leaning against the counter. "Disappears. Has done it twice since I’ve been here. First time was about a year ago, after a security breach leaked some internal emails. He was gone for three weeks. Came back like nothing happened. Second time was shorter, maybe a week, after a board meeting that apparently went sideways."
I looked at her. "You’ve been here a year?"
"Fourteen months." She sipped her coffee. "The art department is a good place to be invisible. Nobody notices you unless you miss a deadline."
"How do you know so much about him?"
She was quiet for a second. Then she smiled, and it was different from her usual polite ones.
"My girlfriend told me."
"Your girlfriend works here?"
"Not exactly." Priya set her coffee down. "My girlfriend is Mona. Mona Hunter."
I stared at her, mouth hanging open. Priya was dating Jace’s sister.
