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I jump out of bed, completely forgetting that I’m naked. “Are you frickin’ kidding me right now? Is this really how you’re gonna end it? Like I’m some floozy that needs to vacate the premises?!”
“It’s not…” His voice fades as he turns his head and sees me. His gaze drops as I grab the bedsheet and pull it off the bed, then wrap myself in it, shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Please don’t make this any harder, Olivia. I mean it respectfully. We’ll just pretend this never happened—I will never hold it against you nor will I use it to hurt or insult you in any way, you have my word.”
“Oh. Your word. Yeah. Good. That will keep me warm at night.”
I decide not to pressure him further. He’s determined to push me away, and this rejection stings on so many levels, even my ego cannot take it. I feel awful and ashamed, as if last night really was a mistake though every blissful second of it was right and perfect. Damn him for making me ride his sadistic emotional rollercoaster. I deserved better, and so did he.
For the life of me, I don’t understand why he’s so against… us.
“Consider me out forever,” I mutter, grabbing my dress and clutch and sandals off the floor. I should pick up the lingerie as well, but that’s an extra second I can no longer afford under his dark gaze. I’m embarrassed and unwanted, and tears are welling in my eyes. I’ll be damned if I’ll give him the satisfaction to see me crying. “Screw you, Will. I’m going back to work.”
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
Lost for words in the face of such detachment, I take one last look at him and then storm out into the hallway.
It’s only once I’m there that I remember I’m wearing Will’s bedsheet as a cover and that it’s the middle of the day. Cursing under my breath, I fish my keycard out of my clutch and rush over to my suite. As soon as I get in and shut the door behind me, I collapse. I drop everything and fall to my knees.
I let myself go too far last night with my own heart. The misery I’m feeling now is of my own doing, and it’s going to take a long time for me to fix the damage. I’ve never felt this way before, and I’ve certainly never been hurt this way, either. I could tell Will was uncomfortable with the entire situation, but I still can’t understand why he chose to treat me so harshly.
“You idiot,” I tell myself as hot tears stream down my cheeks. “You utter idiot…”
I expected regrets in the morning, but I didn’t see the shame and the pain coming. They weren’t part of the deal. This is what I get for being brave, I suppose. For weeks, I’ve been pining over Will Bucklow, fantasizing about him, about us being together. And last night… all those ideas came true in a most beautiful way. We were perfect. Like two pieces of the same puzzle.
It felt right and sweet and wonderful.
Helovedme last night. I felt it echoing in my heart, I saw it in his eyes, I felt it in his kiss. We were meant to happen last night. And we did. And then he had to go ahead and ruin everything.
Christ, I’m the sucker in this equation, aren’t I? Will Bucklow got what he wanted, in the end. He got a ride on this train, and I enjoyed it to the fullest, but when reality came knocking… I caved in. I acted out.
I should’ve held my head up high. I should’ve just walked out of his suite without caring about his forced politeness.
Dammit, Olivia… you hurt yourself. You let him hurt you.
And the worst part? I don’t even think he meant any of it. I think that’s what hurts the most.
CHAPTER18
OLIVIA
The second demo goes infinitely smoother, as I’m assisted by two new engineers—one of them being Tony, my good friend from college and coding star-child extraordinaire. With enough support on the technical side, I’m able to upgrade the code and work it into a physical system, so when the board of executives returns to the office, I’m able to smoothly run them through the whole thing, effortlessly. It’s starting to look insanely good.
Weeks after the whole Clearlake debacle, focusing on this project has been the only way for me to keep my head above water. Will and I barely speak beyond work matters, though he makes a habit to ask me if I’m okay once in a while. To say that I’ve forgiven how he chose to end what had barely just started would be an exaggeration. I’ve gotten used to it. He’s emotionally unavailable, he’s riddled with past traumas and plenty of shadows, and I can’t force him to be with me. Whatever his reason, I doubt it matters anymore. What matters is that we had the most incredible night together, and then it blew up in my face. I’ve nursed my ego for long enough now.
My stomach churns as I go into the kitchen after the demo and the congratulatory remarks. Will was pleased and smiling, as were the execs. Yet I can’t shake the nausea gathering like a wet clump in my throat.
I pour myself a glass of water and practically chug the whole thing, trying to pull myself together. No one here knows what happened, and neither Will nor I have given anybody reason to suspect even the hint of an affair.
As smoothly as that’s been going, my heartache has refused to subside. It’s not just my ego. I really thought we’d connected on a meaningful level. I guess I was wrong.
I’m so deep in my thoughts, so busy trying to push the memories of that night away for the millionth time that I don’t even see Tony coming into the kitchen. I’m still waiting for the kettle to boil, hoping a bit of tea might soothe my upset gut. Even coffee was too much to bear this morning.
“Hey, you. Well done in there!” Tony says. “And for the umpteenth time, thanks for pointing Will frickin’ Bucklow my way. This gig is a dream come true!”
“You deserve it, Tony,” I reply, forcing a smile.
“I can’t wait to see Asclepius ready for implementation. Did the execs say how they were going to pitch it to FEMA?”
“It would likely start at a state level,” I tell him, remembering Will’s words from another day.
