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Cassie held it out and smiled hugely. It was a large burrito on a tray, with a face made of olives and a jalapeño horn. “Because we finished ‘Unicorn Strike’ and it’s going to be a hit! And because you’re sad. So I thought you needed a smiling burrito.”
“It’s…unique,” she said. “You can put it on my desk.”
“You okay?” Raj asked. “You seemed…”
“Sad?” she asked.
“Like you might cut one of our heads off, put it on a pike and roast it over an open flame.” Cassie said.
Evie frowned. “Have I been that horrible?”
“Pretty vile,” Raj said.
“Oh. Well. I’m sorry.”
Cassie shrugged. “We’re just worried. You weren’t like this when you and Jason the Horrible broke up. We were afraid something happened with theFlirtapp. I mean, with that corporate stooge hanging out…”
“Caleb,” she said. “His name was Caleb.”
Cassie frowned. “Yeah, Caleb. He was really…” She got a dreamy look on her face.
“Yeah,” Evie said, scowling. “And no, everything’s fine with the app.”
“Well…good, then…I guess.”
“Happy unicorn eating,” Raj said, and he and Cassie scurried out of the room.
She didn’t mean to be a jerk. She picked up the fork that was on the tray and stabbed the unicorn in the back. Or maybe she did and she didn’t care.
She was fine without love. Or, she had been. Then Caleb had torn down a partition in herself she hadn’t even known she’d put up. And she’d suddenly had access to all this stuff. Desire, and bravery and this deep, deep emotion she hadn’t realized she was capable of.
What a bastard.
So now that she had access to all that stuff, all the good and bad things that went with it. That brave new Evie who wanted the whole world and felt like it was okay to demand it…well, now she just had to decide what she was going to do with it.
* * *
He didn’t want to pick up a woman. He’d approached two of them tonight. With the full intent of taking one to bed. It didn’t matter how he felt—like shit, incidentally—he knew this game. He could do it in the midst of grief. He could certainly do it after breaking up with someone.
No, it wasn’t even a breakup. They’d never really been together. It had been just another of his physical-only affairs. It had been sex. Sex and only sex.
Liar.
Yeah, so what? He’d been lying to himself for years. It was what he did. It was right up there with breathing.
One of the biggest lies was that he liked to go out to bars. He hated it. He didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to be here. He put his beer down on the table and called his driver.
He got into the car and closed the door, shutting his eyes.
“Home, Mr. Anderson?”
“No,” Caleb said. “No.”
“Where to?”
“Westwood Memorial,” he said, and he really wasn’t sure why. But Dave didn’t ask why, so Caleb didn’t even have to fake a reason, which was great. Because he couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything but feel. Horrible, horrible feelings.
Why the hell was he going there twice in the space of a week? There was no answer there. He already knew that. There was nothing but stone.
