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That’s the point.If I was exhausted, I didn’t have energy to dwell on Kai or the shitshow that was my life. I didn’t have to spend my waking hours wondering where he was and how he was doing or my sleeping hours dreaming of his face, his voice, and his touch.
Exhausted was good. Exhausted was safe.
“I’m fine,” I said. “If I collapse in the middle of work,thenyou can berate me.”
“I don’t—”
“How was London?” I interrupted Vivian’s reply. She flew there with Dante for the Young Corporation’s CEO handover ceremony, which didn’t make it the best subject change, but I couldn’t help myself.
I’d read about Kai’s coup in the news. In one week, he’d taken down a top executive and reclaimed his spot as a CEO front-runner. Meanwhile, I’d burned rice, avoided my mom’s calls, and set a personal record for how many days I could wear the same sweat-pants in a row. I was proud of him, but it only underscored how incompatible we were.
“London was…interesting,” Vivian said. “I can safely say I’ve never attended a similar event before.”
“That’s good.” I bit back the rest of my questions.
How was Kai? Was he there with anyone? Did he mention me?
It was hypocritical of me to hope the last answer was yes. I was the one who ended things, but it didn’t change the fact that I missed him so much I couldn’t breathe.
Vivian looked like she was about to say something else. Fortunately, Sloane received a news alert about some big political scandal, and the conversation shifted to speculation over a well-known senator’s future.
Relief returned a portion of my appetite. I attempted to eat my croissant again and found it mildly more appetizing the second time around.
My friends meant well, but talking even indirectly about Kai enabled my addiction. The only way to break free was to quit cold turkey, though that was easier said than done. I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to turn off the news alerts for his name.
I’ll do it tonight.
I’d told myself that the past three nights, but I’d actually do it this time.
While Sloane ranted about the state of modern politics, I scrolled through my inbox for any urgent emails.
LAST DAY! BOGO 50% off our clearance collection
Spring into the new season with these florals!
Re: Floria Designs website
I was about to click on the last email from Alessandra’s web designer when the subject line below it caught my eye.
Your book submission to the Atlantic Prose Agency
My heart catapulted into my throat. I’d never queried any literary agency, but I couldn’t resist clicking into what was obviously a spam email.
Dear Isabella,
Thank you for your submission. I’ve read your sample chapters, and I love your voice. I have some notes in the attached feedback letter. Can you resend after you’ve revised?
-jill s
“What is it?” Alessandra asked.
My friends ended their conversation about the senator and stared at me with varying shades of curiosity.
“An email from someone claiming to be a literary agent.” My heartbeat crawled from my throat to my ears. I shouldn’t have drunk all that caffeine; I was one palpitation away from flatlining. “She said she read my sample chapters and liked them, which is bullshit, because I never queried an agent.”
The universe had the shittiest sense of humor. I was already spiraling about not finishing my book; it didn’t need to kick me while I was down.
“What’s the agent’s name?” Sloane asked. As a high-powered publicist, she knew everyone who was everyone in New York.
