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“And I’m sorry about Anna,” I add, for whatever reason. I know I don’t have to feel guilty but I do.
Megan scoffs and turns away. “I don’t think it’s you who needs to apologize.”
I watch her leave the office, knowing that she’s right. But I still can’t stop myself from doing it. She’s not okay, that much is clear. I want to make things better for her. Megan will not let me, though. She’s far too tough for that.
It does make me wonder if she is ever going to let anyone in. One of these days she’s going to collapse, and she’ll need someone to lean on.
And I, selfishly and stupidly, want to be the one she chooses.
Chapter 2
Megan
I’mawareofMr.Evans leaving, but I don’t look up from my computer. I want to get this last task done, and then I can switch off my work brain. Which, under the circumstances, probably won’t be a good idea. Then I’ll have all the time in the world to think about Eric and Anna.
“I’m leaving, Megan,” Mr. Evans says.
I don’t react, my fingers flying over the keyboard. I hope what I’m typing actually makes sense. Mr. Evans hesitates by my desk.
“We have a deal, remember?” he prompts.
“I’ll go as soon as I’ve finished,” I respond, avoiding eye contact. “Almost there.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, sounding dubious. He knows me a little too well.
I clear my throat and look up at him, schooling my features to be as neutrally sincere as possible. “Yes, sir. I’m sure.”
Why won’t he leave me alone? It’s embarrassing enough that he had to witness my boyfriend cheating on me without remorse, but he also did it with my boss’ daughter. If only he would just leave.
He waits a little longer, as if he’s waiting for me to say something else, but then he sighs and moves away. I barely stop until he’s left the room, the door closing with a gentle click behind him. That’s when all the tension rushes out of me and I slump forward on my desk, head in my hands. God, the headache that’s been building is throbbing behind my eyes, and it won’t ease off.
I should have listened to Mr. Evans earlier in the day and gone home when he suggested it. I’ve been working, but it’s just made my head feel like it’s being squeezed in a vice. My throat also hurts from holding back the scream that wants to tear out of me.
Darn. This document can wait until tomorrow. I need to get home before I lose my composure. There’s a good chance that Eric is still in the building, and I don’t want to run into him.
As I gather my things and head down to the underground parking, my mind is racing over everything. Eric was cheating on me, and I didn’t even see it. How had he managed to do that? I thought things were going great. Of course, he was holding off on us moving in together because he said he wanted to find the best place for us. I stupidly believed it and left it to him so it would be a surprise. Working for a demanding CEO means that I have less time than he does.
Now I doubt that he was looking for a place at all. If he was house-hunting, it was probably with Anna.
Speaking of Anna. Doesn’t she know that she doesn’t come out of this well? Then again, Anna doesn’t think like that. She just sees what she wants, and she goes after it. She doesn’t care if she hurts anyone in the process. She is probably a narcissist.
If only she could be like Natalie. Her younger sister is an awesome person and my best friend. How can they be so different?
I can feel myself shaking as I unlock my car and get in. It takes a few tries before I get my key into the ignition, and I have to rest my head on the wheel and take a few breaths. Everything is tied into knots inside me, and I don’t know whether to scream or burst into tears. And the last thing I want to do is have a mental breakdown in the parking lot.
That can wait until I get home.
Somehow, I manage to get to my apartment without any mishaps, although I did have a few horns blaring at me for not paying attention to traffic lights and stop signs. It’s a relief to walk through my door. If my brother’s home, he’ll make me feel better. He always does.
Sure enough, I hear him in the kitchen. The sound of sizzling reaches my ears, and delicious aromas waft past my nose. Damn, that smells great. I can feel my stomach growling, reminding me that I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast; in all the shock, I didn’t get myself any lunch.
“I’m home,” I announce, putting my purse on the couch.
“Hey, sis,” he calls from the kitchen. “Good timing. Dinner’s nearly ready.”
I look around to see Clark filling the doorway. He’s wearing jeans and a simple white t-shirt, showing off the bulging muscles in his arms, and an apron is wrapped around his waist. The sight of the former football player cooking is quite something, and it always makes me smile. Clark is the last person I’d expect in the kitchen.
I try to find that smile; I don’t know how I’m going to tell him about what happened to me. It just makes me feel like I’m a failure. Clark won’t judge me, but I’m judging myself.
