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She needed to be her own, too.
But that didn’t change the truth. She felt utterly terrible. Her chest was one aching hole of despair and her stomach hadn’t stopped twisting itself into knots. Half a dozen times during the day, she rose to walk back to Cameron’s office, but she never made that first step. What was there to say? She had to take this opportunity. Begging him not to be mad at her wasn’t fair to him, not when she’d seen the hurt written on his face before it fell into his distant cold mask. Hurt she had caused. Forcing him to rehash it when she knew they’d both come to the same conclusion was just cruel.
Knowing that didn’t make her feel the least bit better.
Five o’clock rolled around, and she reluctantly clocked out. Trish turned to the elevator, but she couldn’t leave things how they were. She couldn’t. She walked into Cameron’s office. “You would make the same call if our situations were reversed.”
“Undoubtedly.” He didn’t look up from his computer. “I already gave you my blessing, which you already pointed out that you don’t need. I’m just some guy you’re sleeping with, remember?”
Hurt lodged in her throat, and knowing she was the one who’d caused this mess only made it worse. “I don’t see any other option available to me, Cam. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
He sighed in irritation and turned to face her. “This is the only option available to you. But since you’re obviously obsessing over it, let’s play this out. You turn down the interview for some guy you’re fucking, and two options are available as an outcome. Option one—you end up developing a relationship with him, but you resent him because you turned down what could have been your dream job. Things end badly. Option two—the fling fizzles out as flings are wont to do. You can’t deal with working with the guy you were fucking and now aren’t, so you quit and end up moving back in with your parents. Things end badly.” He recited the potential outcome for them as if reading from some report that had nothing to do with him.
As if he didn’t care.
Her throat was too tight, and she tried to swallow past it. “That’s not fair.”
His composure cracked. “What do you want from me?” Cameron slid his chair back, as if even with the desk between them, he couldn’t stand to be that close to her. “Seriously, Trish. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to rail at you and tell you not to go because I love you? Do you really think I’m that selfish? You’ve spent the entire time we’ve known each other talking about your plan, and now you have a chance at achieving it. Good for you. I wish you well. But give me the fucking courtesy of not forcing me to rehash this over and over again until you get the job offer because you feel guilty and want me to grant forgiveness or whatever the hell you want. We had fun while it lasted. It’s over now. The end.”
“You love me?” If anything, the pit in her chest got wider and deeper at the truth he’d spit, a swirling sensation inside her threatening to swallow her whole.
“It. Doesn’t. Matter.” He stood slowly. “Like I said—it’s over now. Get out of my office. Please.”
The please sent her spinning into motion, hurtling out of his office as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. He loved her and it didn’t matter because he’d put his feelings aside so she could accomplish what she’d always wanted to do. She couldn’t stay and keep hurting him just because she didn’t know what the hell she was feeling. She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, but every word had just made it hurt worse.
If they offered her the job, Trish would take it.
Cameron will be okay. He’s too strong to let something like a little heartbreak get him down for long. He’d recover and get back to his normal brilliant, cranky self. It would be okay. They would both be okay.
At the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered.
Not her broken heart. Not her guilt.
Her plan.
She just had to remember that, because it would be the only thing that got her through the coming months.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. Stop moping.”
Cameron almost ignored Aaron looming in his doorway, but he’d been avoiding his friend for the week since Trish took the interview—and got the job. Even though he’d suspected she’d nail the interview, he still hadn’t come to terms with just how comfortable he’d gotten with her in the office. The new girl was always underfoot and, though she didn’t exactly curl up in a ball and cry when he snarled at her, she was no Trish.
