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JULIET
Mara’s couchin her Tribeca apartment is surprisingly comfy. She has plenty of pillows and a warm, fluffy blanket for me. It’s way better than that sorry excuse for a mattress I dragged into the apartment with Kelsey. She also has a white noise machine, which drowns out the sounds of the city and the other occupants of the building.
But it doesn’t help. I can barely close my eyes, much less sleep.
At six, I hear the white noise machine click off, and heavy footsteps trudging to the bathroom. After the toilet flushes and water runs, the door opens again and a head pokes over at me through the darkness. “You up already?”
I nod and sit up, woozy.
“Making coffee. Want some?”
“Yessss.” It’s past want. I need. I practically jump up and follow her into the kitchen.
She puts a giant mug under her Keurig and sends it whirring. Then she presents me with a heavenly smelling, steaming cup. “Sugar? Cream?”
I inhale deeply and shake my head. It’s not my usual latte, but I need some pure, undiluted energy in my veins right now. “Bless you.”
I look up from the cup to find her staring at me, head tilted. “So, are you ever going to level with me?”
I frown. “What?”
“Well, you’ve been the gossip of Sterling Cross, ever since word started spreading that Caleb Sterling was sending you bouquets of flowers and taking you on special assignments.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “So is the rumor true? Someone said he was going around the gala, introducing you as his girlfriend.”
My stomach was sick all last night, but hearing that I’m the talk of the company, the sour feeling returns.
I feel compelled to be honest with her. I don’t have Kelsey anymore. I need to talk to someone.
“Maybe I was.”
She squeals. “Oooh! That’s a first. He isn’t one to dip his pen in the company ink, if you know what I mean.” Then she frowns. “Was?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “It’s history.”
“Is it?” Her nose wrinkles. “What happened?”
I can’t tell her everything. If she knew the underhanded things I’ve done, she’d probably kick me out. “Nothing really. He probably just decided that he didn’t want to continue dipping his pen in the company ink.”
She presses her lips together. I can tell she doesn’t buy it.
“Okay, so he told you it was over. Judging from yesterday, he didn’t fire you. So you were quitting over that?”
I nod. That’s the easiest explanation, anyway, even if it isn’t true.
“Why? Don’t you like the job?” Before I can say more, she says, “I get it, it’s probably really uncomfortable acting as assistant to a man you had a fling with, but you were really good. Plus, you got to work with me!”
She bats her eyelashes, which makes me laugh. “I did like that,” I admit.
“I liked it. You were one of the few cool people there.” She pouts.
“I don’t know.”
Really, every fiber of my being wants me to go back to Caleb, on my hands and knees, begging until he accepts me into his life—and his bed—again. Even if it takes a thousand years. But then I step back from myself and cringe. So I’m going to be his punching bag, let him continue humiliating me? Do I have no sense of self-worth?
A few days ago, I thought I had all the answers. Now… I just don’t know.
“He didn’t tell me it was over just because of the company ink thing,” I admit, dropping my chin to my chest. “I might have done something. Something to… Betray his trust.”
She leans forward, interested. “Innocently, or…?”
