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That was the problem, though.
After Trish, no one else would do.
Not just for the job. For his fucking life.
“Cameron.”
“I’m not moping. I’m working.” He closed the window and shut down his computer. He wasn’t going to get anything else accomplished today, so there was no point in sticking around.
Especially if Aaron was going to corner him for some kind of misguided intervention. He pushed to his feet, but his friend hadn’t moved from his spot blocking the doorway. Cameron stopped short. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“Wrong. The fact that I’ve waited this long is only because we’re friends and I was waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and fix things. Since you’re showing no signs of doing so, I’m stepping in.” Aaron walked into his office and closed the door. He leaned back against it. “When were you going to tell me you’re in love with my sister?”
He should have known Aaron would pick up on that. He’d overheard their conversation, after all, and he wasn’t an idiot. “I wasn’t going to tell you. It’s a moot point. She left.”
“No shit, she left. She got a job with one of her dream companies. You can’t actually have expected her to stay.”
Why did people keep speaking the obvious to him? Of course he didn’t expect her to stay. Hoping that she would was akin to hoping her dreams would be dashed yet again, and Cameron wasn’t monstrous enough to wish for something that would hurt her.
No matter how much her leaving felt like she’d ripped his heart out of his chest and taken it with her.
Since Aaron obviously had more to say, he crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. “I want her to be happy. I wasn’t going to hold her back.”
Aaron stared at him hard, a flinty look in his blue eyes. He shared similar coloring as Trish, though where she seemed soft and almost innocent in some ways with her curls and freckles, Aaron’s looks were carved of ice when he wasn’t in the mood to deal with people’s bullshit. Much like he seemed to be in that moment. He finally shook his head. “How long have we known each other?”
Was that a trick question? “Going on fifteen years now.”
“Yeah. Fourteen years and some change. In all that time, I’ve never seen you hesitate—not even when you should hesitate. If you really love her... Fuck, Cameron, is now going to be the moment you decide to break your streak? You’re better than this.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?” he roared. “I didn’t hold her back. I stepped out of the way so she could do what she needed to do without feeling guilty. Why the hell am I being asked for more? I’m not a fucking magician to perform a trick and suddenly make this all okay.”
Aaron didn’t so much as blink. “This is a problem, and you fix problems.”
“I fix problems with computers—not with people.”
“Figure it the fuck out, Cameron. If you don’t, you’re going to lose her. The clock started running down the second you let her walk out that door without offering a solution, a compromise, a single goddamn word.” He pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto Cameron’s desk. “She’s miserable, in case you were wondering. This is the happiest she should ever be, and she’s so sad, she can barely pull together a fake smile for our parents. She hasn’t even bothered trying with me and Becka.”
He didn’t want to hear that. If he was falling on his sword for her, he wanted her to be happy. More than happy. He wanted her to be walking on air and untouchable. “Why the hell are we doing this if we’re both miserable?”
“That is the question you should be asking—and answering.” Aaron pushed off the door, opened it and walked out without looking back. “Let me know when you have an answer.”
Cameron slumped down onto his desk and stared at the plain white envelope. It was smaller than standard, half the width and length of a normal envelope, and the only thing written on it was his name. Even after such a short time together, he recognized the rounded letters of Trish’s handwriting.
What else could she possibly have left to say?
He shut and locked his door and sat behind his desk once more to carefully open the letter. It was a torn piece of paper that looked like she’d written on as an afterthought.
Or written on in a flurry before she could second-guess herself about the wisdom of writing in the first place.
He took a second to wish he kept whiskey stashed in a drawer, then began to read.
Cam,
God, I don’t even know what to say. You’re right. This is what I wanted...except it’s not what I wanted. I never expected to fall in love with you. I never wanted it. It hurts, Cam. A lot. I know love is complicated and not as easy as in the movies, but this is just ridiculous. How am I supposed to choose between the career I’ve spent most of my life wanting and you? It’s not fair, and I know that’s a child’s plea, but I’m feeling suitably dramatic.
