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I drop my arm and massage my sweating knuckles, breath like lead in my lungs.
Connor is unreadable, brows arched. Lines crease his forehead, but I don’t think they’re from confusion.
I feel like shit asking to telecommute not just down the street, but a whole country away. Because I’m asking for more when Connor has already given me everything.
“So you want me to give you a week off every month when I don’t even know what you’re working on,” Connor says. “You do know how that request sounds?”
“It’s not one week off,” I counter quickly. “I’ll still be working.”
“But I’ll have to trust that you’re working. If you’re not coming into the office, I can’t see you on your computer coding every day.”
Shit, this is going bad. I rake fingers through my hair. “Look, I know how it sounds.”
“Outrageous. Outlandish,” Connor says, tilting his head. “And so you also must know that if I grant your request, it’s out of nepotism and nothing more—”
“I’m okay with that,” I cut him off.
Connor stares at me, still impassively, still unreadable. Shit.
I shift uncomfortably on the leather seat. “Until tonight, I thought I got this job out of nepotism,” I admit. “It’s never stopped me from going to work. It won’t stop me from putting forth all my effort.” Feeding on that bloated leech one more time won’t bother me.
My boss just shakes his head once.
My nerves ratchet to a new degree. “Connor—”
“I won’t grant your request,” he says calmly, casually, like he’s not just ripping apart my entire world. I also zone in on his words.
Won’t.
It’s not that he can’t. Because he can. He just doesn’t want to.
I look away. Out the window. As pain starts shattering my chest, my ribcage, my fucking heart. I can’t see Willow.
How long will we be apart? Forever. It fucking feels like forever.
Unbearable doesn’t even cut it. And fuck me, for putting all my hope and desire and utter want into this one thing. Because losing something I never had shouldn’t feel this devastating. This crushing.
“Garrison,” Connor says softly. “Understand that I’m doing this for your own benefit.”
That gets to me.
I swing my head and choke on a bitter laugh. “My benefit?” I say in disbelief. “Unless it benefits me to feel miserable, then I don’t see how this has anything to do with me.” I clench my knee with a shaking hand. “You know what. I qu…” I can’t finish those words. They’re sawed off by something inside of me.
I blink hard, pushing back more emotion.
Connor watches me with tranquility that should calm me but it’s setting me on edge. “I’m not trying to push you to quit, Garrison. I don’t want that. Neither do you. But if I let you go to London seven days out of the month—every month—you will quit.”
I don’t see how I will. “You don’t know that.”
He raises his brows. “Four words I don’t hear often.” His lip lifts. “I know you. I know that you lead with your emotions, not your head. And if you’re in London for seven days, you’ll email me asking for another day overseas. It’ll turn into telecommuting for eight. Then you’ll ask for another week. Fourteen days will turn into twenty-one. And then by the end of the year, you’ll call me to say that you want to stay there permanently. Because given the choice between Willow and this job, you will choose Willow. So I’m not giving you the choice. I’m allowing you to have both while you still can. And one day, you’ll thank me for it.”
I grind down on my teeth. Pain leeches everywhere, all doors shutting from me to her. No way there. No escape or passageway.
“You don’t trust me to stay seven days in London and come back?” That’s what I’m getting from this.
“No, I don’t. And if you thought about it more, you might not trust yourself either. Just ask yourself which would be harder: not seeing Willow for months, or having to leave her every three weeks?”
I finally understand what he’s saying.
Either way I’m fucked. But at least in one scenario I get to see her. Hold her. Comfort her. But Connor already told me I don’t get a choice. He made it for me. That hits me.
“This decision,” I say. “It’s not from my boss, is it?”
Connor rolls up his sleeves slowly. “No, it’s not.” He glances my way. Blue eyes hitting mine. “It’s from your friend.”
The limo rolls towards the gated neighborhood, slowing down. My head is heavy. Spirits dulled. I don’t know what to do. How to see Willow more often. How to make this relationship work. If it’s even possible anymore. I try one last thing. The good ole guilt trip.
“Yeah, and what happens if we break up because we can’t see each other?” I ask. “You’re going to be an accomplice to that, you know. If you’re such a great friend, you could have helped.” I feel like utter shit as soon as I say the words. Fuck, why even go there?
