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Just leave.
The way he’d just left her.
Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of that. “You can’t consume my every thought, Ren. Not anymore.”
If only she believed it.
***
Katrina stared at thesign in front of the large office building. Torrence Industries was where Emily’s father had made his fortune, and where Emily was following in his footsteps. Emily had yet to return any of Katrina’s calls or messages and having seen the damning evidence with her own eyes, Katrina was certain she knew why.
Lorenzo.
It was all about Lorenzo.
None of it made sense to Katrina, though, even as she made her way through the sprawling lobby to the elevators, smiling at a few of the people there who were obviously going to work. She hit the button for the eighth floor, where Emily’s office was, and waited silently amongst strangers until she reached her destination.
Once up to the area of executive offices, she rounded the corner to the large suite on the right-hand side of the hallway. Knowing she’d be seeing Emily’s secretary first, Katrina pasted on a smile before entering the suite.
“Hello, Ms. Carter,” Sally said from her perch at her desk. “Have a seat, I will let Ms. Torrence know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Katrina replied, taking a seat on a plush couch in the waiting area. She watched as Sally’s smile tightened at whatever line Emily was giving her and knew her trip downtown had been for nothing.
“I’m so sorry but she’s swamped today,” Sally said to Katrina, who stood and inhaled sharply.
“That’s fine; I’m rather busy myself. Mind if I leave a note?”
“Oh, of course.”
“Thank you,” Katrina murmured. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the note she’d had prepared, just in case.
I know the truthwas all it said.
She handed the envelope to Sally, who was nervously talking about how fun the trip the two women had planned was going to be, as soon as Emily could tie up a few loose ends.
“Could you see that she gets this? When she’s not busy, of course.”
“Of course.”
***
Katrina stood outsideof Lorenzo’s hospital room, her heart hammering in her chest. She could do this. She could return his belongings and walk out the door, get back to her job, get back to her life.
Get back to Timothy.
The thought of Timothy dimmed in comparison to the feelings she had about walking through the door, dealing with Lorenzo who was awake and flipping through television channels.
He’d always done that when he was bored.
She squared her shoulders and held her head high before knocking twice on the door, his voice calling out to her, smooth as butter, to come on in.
He was sitting up in bed, the remote in his hand, his hair disheveled but clean, his bruised face beginning to heal. He swallowed as she entered carrying a bag with his things.
This was it.
She was there to say goodbye to him.
“Trina.”
