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My head whips to Eva and Rinaldi. He pulls his mask down so they can grimace in tandem. I’m sure it’s a grin but the fillers are strong with these two.

“You and Hayden vs the Vancouver and SF offices, who we teamed together as well. All of the regular partners will be compensated, but aren’t participating at this level. The leaders of the winning campaign will be in solo consideration for the VP Creative Director job here at the New York office.”

Of course, I have to spend time with the one person who controls all of my emotions. I can’t let him get ahold of me again, so I muster iron will in an attempt to, hopefully, straighten my spine and allow resolve to replace remorse. I’m in control of me but he’s going need to smell different.

“Let our assistant know which city you’re working from and they’ll make the arrangements.”

Wait, what?

He replies, “Sounds good. We’ll be in Boston.”

“The hell we will,” I say. He does not get home-court advantage. Fuck that. “We’ll go to Chicago.”

Rinaldi speaks as they glide to the door. “Good. We’ll put you here on neutral ground in Manhattan for the next month. You can stay in your suite. Ta!”

“What suite?” Hayden is quick to jump on it. He’s on his feet, as nimble as he’s always been, and turns to them.

Eva says, “You two didn’t realize you have an adjoining suite? Open the doors. Bask in the competition! Let my games begin.”

Because the coincidences never stop with us. It’s like fate isn’t just pushing us, but punishing us. It’s squishing all this convoluted shit into our narratives.

I look up to the ceiling and question my guardian angel. Kristin, did you do this? How long have you known? A pencil randomly falls from the desk and rolls to my feet. I scoff at the ceiling, fuck you, Kris.

Rinaldi leaps into the air, does a pirouette, then says, “There’s even a kitchen and a balcony! Exeunt, my darling baby!” Eva shuffles out of the room like her clothes are binding her legs together and giggling. If they didn’t pay so well, not sure I’d endure all of this.

The door closes and I immediately leap up to land against the wall furthest from him. The ground is breaking all around us and we’re each clinging to facts we know and problems we understand. I can see it in his eyes as they slide back to Danny’s slate blue.

“How does this happen?” I reiterate what I’ve already said, “How does THIS happen?”

He smiles. “Hey, Michelle Michelle. Stop repeating yourself.” He shakes his head. We stay suspended in a vat of chaos.

I say softly, “Who the hell is Hayden?”

His shoulders slump and his voice drops to match mine. “You got married.” Then he says more forcefully, “To someone who wasn’t me. Like, right after you dumped my ass and disappeared. Where the fuck did Lizzie go?”

“She died the day you left her sitting alone in a hotel room in a prom dress crying until dawn.”

“Can you blame me after what you did? Without even fucking talking to me.”

I spit back at him, “What the fuck are you talking about? You changed your name to hide from me?”

“I changed my last name because of things that happened in my life, not you, you daft woman.”

“Showing off your vocabulary. Stay in your lane, graphics.”

My life is inside out that he’s not dead and wasn’t hiding. I had dental work the day of our first video meeting, and my face was swollen and puffy, so I used an avatar. He did too. We kept doing it, neither of us ever showing our face. But his voice. Why didn’t I recognize it? To be honest, it’s not like hearing it now even feels like Danny, it’s too angry.

“You kept the name of a man you didn’t love? And who the fuck is Bette?” He shakes his head.

Tears flood my eyes and I’m pissed off. I want to be a fucking iron tiger right now and I’m going to be a marshmallow bunny instead.

I sputter out, “I needed to be someone different. Lizzie had so much pain, so I rebranded her and shoved it all down. I took his last name and Kris came up with Bette. Lizzie Fox’s heartbreak was too much to live with, but Bette Miller had a clean slate. She gave me the excuse to find a way past the debilitating agony and low self-esteem.”

The anger wanes for a moment and a flicker of Danny surfaces. My soul and my arms want to reach out to him, but my head and the shattered pieces of my heart want to scratch out his slate-blue stare.

“I don’t think we’re working with all the information. But my job matters, so we need to focus on this campaign. Let’s do this, then I can be out of your life again, just like you always wanted.” His voice is loud and harsh.

What is he fucking talking about? I flatten my tone of voice. “This is my job. I’m the more poised of the two of us.”