by Katie Fox
I clenched down on my jaw, the vein in my neck thrumming. “When you do good, then people expect it, and I don’t want to have to live up to anyone’s expectations. Not anymore. I’ve spent my entire life so far chasing what I thought were my dreams, making a life for myself that is fit in the eyes of society, and you want to know what I have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.”
A sense of helplessness and pity appeared in her blue eyes, and I wanted them gone. I didn’t want her feeling any of those things for me.
“You have your entire life ahead of you. It’s okay to feel like you don’t have it all together.”
I laughed a cold, humorless laugh. “Like you?”
Elle’s entire body winced, an immediate frown tugging at the corners of her lips at my response. I closed my eyes, unable to bear her reaction.
My face flooded with hot shame. It was a low blow, one she didn’t deserve. Other than what had been listed on her résumé and the information I’d received from her background check, I didn’t know enough about her to judge her. Even if I did, it wasn’t fair—wasn’t right. We both walked in our own set of shoes, entirely different from each other’s.
Realizing this conversation was over, I turned away from her, again. The damage had been done, and there was no taking it back. Guess it was just one more regret I was adding to the ever-growing pile of “Owen’s fuck-ups.”
Elle didn’t try to stop me this time. She stood, watching as I disappeared down the sidewalk, her heavy gaze weighting every one of my steps.
My heart beat faster as I stepped out of the cab, my hand lingering on the door and my eyes scanning over the brownstone building I’d spent nearly my entire life living in. Not a sliver of light, nor movement, shone through the curtains decorating the large windows, framed in black wrought iron fencing.
Not that I'd thought there would be at this late hour.
It was almost three a.m. and the only signs of life on this street were the glow of the street lamps and the whistle of the breeze as it lifted scattered leaves and debris, blowing it along the sidewalk. When I'd walked away from Elle a little more than five hours ago, I had no desire to return to the quiet emptiness of my condo, so I’d hopped in the first available cab and rode aimlessly around the city.
“Where to?” the driver had asked in his thick Asian accent, as I slid across the broken plastic seat.
“Just drive.”
He didn't argue. He drove around with no real destination and didn’t bother to ask again. The dollar amount on the meter continued to rise, and I supposed for him that was the only thing that truly mattered. I was just thankful he didn't attempt to engage in conversation. Eventually under my direction, we ended up here, in front of my parents’ house, a single-family home located in one of the most affluent suburbs of the city. Much like the fast-moving scenery as I’d stared out the window of the taxi, my mind was a blur. Memories of my childhood danced across my conscience, and I could practically smell the freshly baked cookies my mother used to whip up in the kitchen or the scent of expensive cigars my father would sit and puff on while reading the latest releases of Caldwell Publishing.
The company had been a college graduation gift, a desire of mine since I was a young boy, and now that it was officially mine, its future hung in the balance like everything else in my life.
A light flickered on, illuminating from the large bay window that belonged to my mother’s sitting room, and the thin silhouette moving behind the curtains caused me to choke on an inhale.
Mom.
My heart clenched at the sight of her, and tears burned the corners of my eyes. She was awake, and Millie’s words from earlier that day returned. Two months had passed since I’d last seen my parents, a decision that had been mine and mine alone, one I struggled with every single day.
Go see her, Owen. Knock on the damn door for Christ’s sake and pull her in your arms. Tell her how much you need her, now more than ever.
“Sir?”
Shaking my head, I inhaled deeply and took one more look at the window before slipping back into the cab. I needed to stand by the decision I had made, no matter how difficult it was or how it ripped me apart inside.
It was better this way.
Better for everyone this way.
THE NEXT DAY I returned to the office with two more cups of coffee, a hopeful peace offering for the previous evening that had ended in disaster. Only Owen hadn’t showed up to work. I entered his office to find Millie standing behind his desk, staring out the window at the early morning skyline. Her salt and pepper hair dusted her shoulders as she turned to look at me, and her lips pulled into a tight smile at the same time her eyes landed on the cardboard tray in my hands.
“Owen won’t be in today.”
“Oh?” I stopped in my tracks, resisting a frown as I pressed the door quietly shut behind me. My heart beat in a nervous rhythm, and I wondered if his absence had anything to do with last night. “Is he…is he okay?”
“He’s fine, dear. I spoke with him this morning. He didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. He should be back tomorrow. However, he did ask that I help get you moved into your own office today. Jack has finally finished cleaning it out, so it’s officially yours.”
A sharp blade of disappointment cut through me. Two days ago, I would’ve been thrilled to know I had my own dedicated working space, but now, I was eager for Owen’s company: his odd habits, the way he’d tap the end of his pen against his desk while he worked, or how he would speak under his breath while typing out his emails were all things I’d grown used to.
“Don’t look so disappointed.”
“Oh no. I’m not.” I shook my head in disagreement, but it was pointless. Somehow Millie knew the words tumbling from my mouth were a blatant lie. “I’m not disappointed.”
Giving me an unconvinced smirk, she rounded Owen’s desk and perched herself on the front of it. Her palms rested flat on the smooth mahogany finish. “I know Owen isn’t always the easiest person to get along with. Trust me, I know. I’ve had the privilege of working beside him for the last ten years and knowing him personally for thirty-two. I still remember the day his father brought him on a tour of this building for the very first time, and I’d give anything to see his eyes sparkle again like they did that day.” She paused for a moment, as if replaying the memory in her head, and then continued. “This company, this work, has always been his number one love, and he has a sharp eye for recognizing the same kind of love in other people. I’d be lying if I said I always understood the reasoning behind his actions, but I can promise you if he’s pushing you, Elle, it’s only because he believes in you and your capabilities.”
“That’s great, Millie. It really is, but why are you telling me this?” I didn't want to run the risk of sounding rude, but she didn't owe me an explanation. I supposed Owen didn't either. This was his company, his rules, and his choice to run it as he saw fit. And while I didn’t know him the way I wanted to know him, I knew he had been doing a hell of a job, not only for himself but with Caldwell Publishing as well. He was thirty-two years old, the youngest CEO of one of the country's top and most respected publishing firms. How could he possibly think his hard work had nothing to show for it?
Millie sighed, and her fingers performed a slow, rhythmic tap against the hardwood. “Because so many people have this preconceived notion about him, and I want you to know they’re wrong. He may be incredibly stubborn at times, but underneath that hardened exterior is a man with a heart of gold. He’s just extremely cautious about who he reveals it to—especially now, more than ever.” Straightening herself, she crossed the distance separating us and stopped beside me, placing a gentle hand on my arm. Despite it being only the two of us in the room, her voice lowered. “If that glimmer in your eye I see whenever you look at him is an indication of what I think you might be feeling, then I need you to know it’s okay...it’s okay to like him, Elle. He may not know it, but he has so much love to give, a
nd between you and me, I think he could really use a friend.”
She walked away from me after that, and I stood with my heart lodged in my throat, unsure what to say. I saw the good in him, witnessed it with my own eyes, even if he refused to see it in himself, refused to show it to the rest of the world. Spinning around, I caught her right before she disappeared out the door. “Millie?”
“Yes, dear?”
“What happened? What changed? I spoke with Jill last night, and she said he wasn’t always like this, wasn’t always so miserable.”
Giving me a thoughtful look, she inhaled deeply. A sad smile took over her lips. “Life, I suppose.”
I hadn’t seen Owen the rest of that week. I’d been moved into my new office, and by the time I arrived each morning, there was a stack of paperwork waiting on my desk for me to complete for the day, and for the first time since being employed by Caldwell Publishing, I hated it.
Not the work.
I hated not seeing him.
I felt like I’d created this huge divide between us, like I had rocked the foundation on which we stood, and I didn’t know how to go about repairing it so we were once again standing on solid ground.
Then again, were we ever standing on solid ground?
The entire situation bothered me. It bothered me a lot, and I couldn’t figure out why. A couple of times I ventured to his office with a lame excuse, a reason for seeing him, but every time I had, he’d been busy, either occupied with a phone call or wrapped up in a meeting, and so I bottled up my courage and locked it in my drawer where the rest of my wants and desires were hidden.
I’d done what Elle Callihan did best: went about her work and kept to herself.
During my lunch breaks, I’d sneak down to the massive library and I’d lose myself in the smell of books. I'd imagine what it would be like to see one with my name on the front sitting on the shelves. Most days it seemed like an impossible dream, one that continued to slip further and further away despite the fact that I worked in one of the largest publishing companies in the country.
As if to prove myself wrong, I’d occasionally take my notebook with me, and if I felt inspired enough, I’d sit at one of the large rectangular tables and write until my wrist ached and the words faded.
Tuesday of that following week had been one of those days. I had filled fifteen entire pages before my sentences started reading like that of a second grader, and deciding I had written plenty, I closed the book and left it resting on the table. I stood and walked over to the shelves of books, plucking one from the romance section. I rested my shoulders against the wall, thumbing through the pages as I read the first chapter.
“You need to stop doing this, Owen. You need to stop cutting everyone out of your life. I may be your employee, but damn it, I’m also your friend, and as your friend, I’m telling you this is wrong.”
My spine straightened as Millie’s stern words bounced off the walls of the library, and I pressed harder back against the wall, making sure no part of me was showing that would potentially reveal my location. The library was huge, but seeing as it was private and only opened to the employees of the company, it was usually empty. And that’s when I realized that was exactly why they were here, talking so freely.
They didn’t know I was in their presence.
“Millie, I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting in—”
“Screw the goddamn meeting, Owen. There are more important things than work. For the love of the Lord, have you not figured that out yet?”
There was silence and, quietly and carefully closing the book in my hands and hugging it to my chest, I pushed up on my toes, peeking between the shelves so I could watch the rest of their interaction unfold.
Millie stood with her arms over her chest, a sadness on her face that was still easily discernible under the mask of anger. “Why are you doing this?”
Owen cast her an equally stern glare. “You know why.”
She shook her head, his answer obviously not good enough. She paced a few feet and then turned, stopping so she was once again face to face with him. “Let me ask you something, why did you hire her?”
“What?”
“Elle. Why did you hire her? She doesn’t have any experience. I mean, she’s pretty—”
“Don’t do that.” He bit out the words, and even from afar, I could see the way his jaw set firmly and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. He pointed at her, a gesture of anger I’d never seen him make before. “Don’t you dare make this into something more than what it is.”
“What it is...” Millie laughed, the sound condescending and holding not a single trace of humor. “Do you hear yourself right now? What it is…” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “You don’t even know what it is, do you?”
Owen tensed, speaking through gritted teeth. “I know what it isn’t. And I know what it will never be.”
Something sharp and painful cut across my chest at his words, and while I wasn’t one hundred percent certain I was still who they were referring to, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by his response. It hurt. His rejection hurt more than I ever thought it would.
Millie seemed to share my same sentiment. She pulled her lips tight, the look on her face hard to process, even if there was a sudden sense of understanding swirling behind her eyes. “I just thought—”
“Stop thinking.” A finality rang in his tone that said the conversation was over, and as Millie slowly walked past him, he dropped his voice to a level that was almost difficult to hear. It was a whisper. A painful whisper. “You act like this is my choice, like I’ve asked for this sentence.”
“No, dear. I just don’t want to see you going through it alone.”
They shared a look before she disappeared out of the library, leaving her words hanging in the air, and as I swallowed down the thickness they left behind in my throat, Owen’s hands fell to the back of the wooden chair in front of him.
His eyes closed.
His grip tightened.
His chest rose sharply.
On his next exhale, the chair in his grasp soared through the air, slamming against a case of shelves and knocking its books to a loud crashing thud on the floor. I jumped right out of my skin, a shuddering gasp bursting from my mouth as Owen stumbled backward from his aggressive outrage.
In need of support, he slumped against the wall, and I caught a glimpse of the tears glassing his eyes before he’d bowed his head, his hands coming up to fist his hair at the same time an agonizing groan ripped from his chest. His back slid down the wall, and as he hit the floor, losing all composure and breaking apart, an overwhelming urge to go to him and pull him into my arms gripped me.
Owen was in pain, and I had a feeling the inflicting source was more than the intense headaches he experienced, the ones he tried so hard to avoid drawing attention to.
And I was right.
He was lonely.
Only his loneliness was a choice, one I was growing more and more desperate to understand.
“HAVE YOU ORDERED your dress yet?”
I froze as my sister’s question floated through the line. Crap. I hadn’t ordered it yet but not because I’d forgotten. Okay. That was a lie. I’d totally forgotten, but by no means had it been intentional. Work had had me super busy as of late, and with the upcoming publishing convention Owen was attending in the next few weeks, I needed to make sure everything was in order as far as his itinerary was concerned. Not to mention juggling writing time and dedicating a day or two every week to Drew so he didn’t feel abandoned. I felt like a tug-o-war rope whose threads were being pulled in one thousand different directions.
“You haven’t ordered it yet, have you?”
I bit down on my lip and yanked open my desk drawer, digging through my purse in search of my wallet. “Well, I—”
“Elle! Come on. Are you serious? The wedding is in less than two months. Oh. My. God. You’re not going to have it in time, are you? You’re… What are we going to do
? What are we—” Kimmi’s breathing increased, sounding as though she was on the verge of hyperventilating. She couldn’t even finish formulating her sentence.
Great. I was going to be responsible for killing the bride or, at the very least, sending her into a panic-stricken anxiety attack.
“Kimmi, relax. I’m ordering it right now, okay? I promise. It will be fine.” I quickly typed in the web address for the bridal website, and as I searched for the design and color she had chosen—a short knee-length A-line in dark purple chiffon—my eyes widened.
Dread crept down my spine.
Or not.
“Shit.” I stared at the words “Out of Stock.” The same tightness I imagined was currently gripping my sister’s chest constricted my own.
“What? What is it?”
“Kimmi, I’ll call you back. Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t worry.”
“Elle! Don’t you dare hang up on—”
I disconnected the call before she detected the panic in my tone. My pulse throbbed beneath my skin. Here I was telling her not to worry while I was on the verge of losing it myself.
Think, Elle. Think. Damn it.
Couldn’t I just do something right for once in my life?
Grabbing my purse, I shot out of my chair. I’d have to make a trip to the local store and see if they had one in stock—hope to hell they had one in stock—otherwise my sister would never let me live this down. I'd be forever guilty of ruining her wedding, and that was not something I wanted hanging over my head for the rest of my life. It might not have seemed like a huge deal, but to a bride who had spent her entire life dreaming of her big day and the perfect dresses her bridesmaids would wear, it was a horrific nightmare.
Leaving the pile of manuscripts that Millie delivered that morning on my desk, I darted across the floor of my office. I still had loads of work to do, and I wasn't sure how Owen felt about me leaving in the middle of the day, but it was close to my lunch hour, and I wouldn't be long. There was a good chance I'd even make it back on time, but if the store did have one in stock, I didn't want to miss the opportunity of getting my hands on it. I could always stay later to finish everything if needed.