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“The only one she’ll see is Dad, but he said yes or no answers is about all he can get out of her.”
“Maybe she should think about the consequences before she opens her mouth.”
“It’s not true,” he said quietly. “None of us blame you forherleaving.”
“Obviously your sister does.” I snorted, resentful and still hurt.
“You know how she is. Barely make a scratch on her and she goes for the jugular.”
I held out my hands. “Well, I’m bleeding out over here.” Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that, but why hide?
“She was in the wrong.”
“But I am too, right?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
He let out a long sigh. “It wasn’t the time to bring up Jack. Honestly, there’s never a good time. And you’re right. None of us are doing her any favors by pretending he didn’t exist.”
My shoulders sagged. “I can’t stand to see Marlow hurting. I know—” I hesitated, shoving the words I was about to say back in. “I don’t expect her to get over his death. Ever. I just don’t want her . . .”
“To feel like you do,” he finished for me. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”
I bristled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“How long are you gonna punish yourself? Cameron made a decision that cost him his life.”
“And I made the one that didn’t save it.”
I set my food carton on the bench between us and stood. “I appreciate where you’re coming from. I know you came to help me find some sort of reconciliation, but I’m not there yet. This isn't me avoiding a conversation, but rather asking you to be patient. Please.”
He looked up, and I could tell he wanted to say something, but he wisely dipped his head. “Okay.”
“Tell Trish I appreciate lunch.” I didn’t believe I could stop punishing myself. It wasn't that easy. But at least I could reach out to someone I did want in my life.
I plowedboth my hands through my hair as I paced in front of the skyscraper. What was I doing here? I had to get back to work, but I couldn’t stay away.
Screw it.
I pushed through the revolving doors and prayed it wasn’t a mistake.
Chapter Eighteen
Baker
“The contracts camein this morning. Schedule the shoot for a month from now.”
I scribbled the reminder on the bottom of my notes from the meeting we’d just finished.
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Let’s meet again Thursday afternoon to plan locations for the April and May editions. Hayden wants you in from start to finish.” Macy, our creative director, pulled the conference room door closed as we exited.
“Perfect. I’ll see you Thursday.”
She jetted down the corridor toward her department. I trudged to the lobby. It was nearly two and I hadn’t had lunch yet. We’d been going nonstop today, which was a blessing. My mind had only minimally drifted—
“Holt?”
His hands were braced against the reception desk. Those dark locks were a wreck. His coveralls were coated in stains. And the sight of him was such a relief I almost ran to him.
