Page 89 of Miss Typed

When the knock on my door came, I was hit with a healthy dose of relief. That meant she was no longer with Matt. Yet I was determined to stand strong in my decision. But as soon as I opened the door and saw her face, I wavered.

Because she was a life raft in my storm. A hope in a world where I’d stopped using the word. But how fair would it be to cling to her? To bring her down with me? “Hi.” I drank in the sight of her face.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure. How was dinner?”

She walked into the room and then spun to face me, her eyes full of fire. “How do you think it was since you practically set me up on a date?”

“I did no such thing.”

“You told Matt I was single. As in, no boyfriend. Then you bagged on dinner, leaving us to eat alone.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend. And Matt’s a good guy. You’re better off getting involved with a guy like him.”

“What?”

“I told you since the beginning I’m not cut out for a relationship. Matt is practically stamped ‘relationship material.’ And he asked about you in a respectful way.”

“Why would I possibly be interested in Matt when I’m in love with you?”

I sucked in a breath at her declaration, but then I made one of my own. One that hurt like no other lie I’d ever told. One from which I knew there was no coming back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t love you, Chloe.”

The words dropped like a weighted stone in the room. My resolve almost cracked the moment tears sprung to her eyes, but I stood firm. She could do better without me. I half expected her to challenge my declaration, but I must’ve been convincing because she moved past me toward the door.

“You’re so young, and smart, and beautiful.” I tried to convey a small piece of what it cost me to let her go.

She paused with her hand on the knob, not bothering to look back. “Don’t. Don’t give it to me in black and white by saying you don’t love me and then try to go back and color it in as if it’ll soften the blow. You don’t love me. You don’t want to be with me. Message received.”

“You’re better off.”

“Maybe I am.” And with those parting words, she was out of my room.

The next morning, I took the chickenshit way out and left before the sun came up. Chloe would wake up to a message from the front desk informing her of my departure and of her car arriving at ten a.m.

I called Reid from the road, unapologetic about waking his ass up at six in the morning. He needed to get up and work out anyway.

“This had better be good. And no, I’m not working out today. Today is my rest day.”

“Sure it is. I need you to find a new position for Chloe.”

I could hear the rustle of sheets. “What the hell for? What happened?”

“Everything is fine.” I wasn’t about to get into the details yet. “But I’ve decided to give my two weeks’ notice.”

“You got the contractor position?”

“After I pass the physical tomorrow, I’ll accept.” My plan was to fly stateside, get another prosthesis fitted, and then log some hours on the shooting range. I also needed to get my gear ready. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I didn’t pass the physical, but in any case, I definitely couldn’t stay here any longer.

“Lucky for me I’m no longer HR. Turn in your notice to Helen, and she’ll automatically reassign Chloe. You want to tell me what’s really prompting this?”

I couldn’t tell him. He’d call me a fool, and I might start to believe him.

His sigh was audible when I didn’t answer. “Fine. We’ll table this until I have a nice bottle of your gross Scotch to drink.”

After last night, the thought of another glass of Scotch turned my stomach. I was fighting a horrible hangover as it was. “Maybe make it bourbon.”

“Nice to hear part of you is still sensible. See you later.”