Chapter 3.

The tears keep flowing freely, refusing to stop. I know I have to pull myself together, but the pain is unbearable, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't.

Where did things go wrong?

My phone soon starts ringing, and I immediately sit up, hoping it is him. Maybe he has realized that he made a mistake. Maybe he has had enough time to calm down and has called to take back everything he said.

My hands scramble through the things in my bag until they finally find my phone, but when I look at the screen, my heart sinks.

It isn't him. It's Clare.

I wipe my face with the back of my palm before swiping to answer the call.

“Girl, where are you? Do you know how worried I am?” Her voice comes through the phone, and the moment I hear it, whatever little control I had left disappears.

The words refuse to come out of my mouth. Instead, I burst into another round of tears.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“Sophy, say something!”

“He ended things.” My voice breaks as I struggle to speak. “He said I'm unbearable.”

“He did what?!”

“That good-for-nothing asshole. I knew he was up to no good.” She lets out a frustrated sigh before asking, “Where are you?”

“I'm still here. I don't know what to do.” I wipe another tear from my cheek. “I want to go to his house and apologize for calling him so many times. Maybe if I explain that I was only worried, he might—”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

I fall silent.

“Young lady, I'm coming there right now, and you better make sure I find you there. You're coming home with me.”

“But—”

“No buts. Stay there.”

The call ends before I can say anything else, and I keep staring at the screen, until it finally goes off.

A part of me still wants to go to his house, to find him and somehow convince him that we can fix whatever went wrong tonight, but another part of me knows that Clare is right. She has always been. I don't even know what I would say to him if I went to his house, so I stay where I am and wait for her.

***

The drive home is quiet.

I had expected Clare to scold me for being very foolish and never listening to her, but instead, she says nothing. Even the music playing softly through the car speakers feels deliberate, as though she has chosen something calming because she knows I am in no state to listen to anything loud and bubbling.

I stare out the window for most of the drive, watching the lights outside blur through my tears while everything Sam said keeps playing over and over in my head.

When we reach the apartment, she drives into the garage and parks the car. She removes the keys from the ignition, and we quietly make our way inside.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks as she opens the door.

“No.” The answer comes almost immediately. I let out a long breath and make my way toward the room. “I just want to sleep. I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“In this state?” she asks, following behind me. “Why don't you just ask for a sick leave or something?”

I stop, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“W—we have a meeting with a very important investor tomorrow, and I have to be there for it.”

“Oh...” Her expression changes when she remembers. “That meeting with the CEO of Sinclair Technologies?”

“Yes.” I nod.

She watches me for a moment before giving up on trying to convince me.

“Okay. Goodnight, love.”

A faint smile appears on my lips.

“Goodnight.”

The night is far from good.

Every time I close my eyes, another memory of Sam comes rushing back, and the harder I try not to think about him, the more difficult it becomes. I keep wondering when things changed, whether there was something I could have done differently, and why I was so determined to believe that he would eventually become the man I had always hoped he could be.

I wouldn't say I didn't see the signs. I saw them. I just kept hoping for better.

Eventually, after hours of crying and staring into the darkness, exhaustion finally takes over, and I fall asleep.

“Sophy! Sophy!”

I hear someone calling my name, but I don't want to wake up.

“Sophy, wake up. You're really going to be late. It's seven o'clock.”

“Seven what?!”

My eyes fly open, and I immediately sit up.

“Shit, I'm supposed to be in the office by seven-thirty!”

I throw the bedsheet aside and jump to my feet, rushing toward the bathroom in an instant.

The last time I had taken such a quick bath was during my sophomore year, and even then, I don't think I had ever moved this quickly.

Less than five minutes later, the bathroom door flies open, and I hurry back into the room, still trying to dry myself as I make my way toward the wardrobe.

“That was quick,” Clare says, staring at me.

“Yes!” I answer with a smile, even though I'm still struggling to catch my breath.

“Did you at least wash your hair?”

“I'll wash it when I get back.” I pull out one outfit after another, barely giving myself time to consider them. “I should have prepared something to wear yesterday, but instead I went on a stupid date with a—”

I stop myself.

No.

I'm not going to let him ruin today. I've worked too hard to get this meeting to happen, and I'm not about to let one son of a bitch ruin it for me.

I finally settle on an outfit and quickly get dressed before grabbing my hairbrush.

“This looks presentable, right?” I ask while brushing my hair.

“Yes.”

I slide my feet into my shoes, spray some perfume, grab my bag, and take one last look at myself in the mirror.

“Okay, I'm ready.”

I turn toward Clare.

“I look good, yes?”

“Yeah,” she replies, though the confused look on her face tells me she is probably wondering how I managed to pull myself together so quickly.

I barely have five minutes left to get to the office, and before I can start panicking about how I'm going to make it there on time, she speaks.

“I booked you a cab.”

I turn toward her, relief washing over me.

“You're such a darling, my love. Bye... and wish me luck.”

“Good luck!” she says as I hurry toward the door.

***

“Good morning, sir.”

“You're late!”

“I—I’m sorry, sir.”

“You know how important this meeting is and—”

“Sorry, sir.” Mr. Parker's personal secretary interrupts him.

“They're here,” she says, pointing toward the elevator.

He turns to me immediately. “You're ready, right?”

I nod.

“Good.”

Truthfully, I don't know if I'm ready, but I'll put in my best because if I fumble this meeting, I might as well kiss my job goodbye.

I quickly head to the break room to get some coffee. I need the caffeine, it will give me the little boost of confidence I need before the meeting.

I brew a cup and head back out, walking quickly with my phone in my hand as I take one last look at my notes before entering the conference room.

I'm so focused on my phone that I don't notice someone walking toward me until I suddenly collide with him.

The impact makes the coffee spill all over his shirt, and I stumble backward, completely startled.

“I'm so sorry—”

I look up.

And the moment I see who I've just spilled coffee on, my breath catches, and a sudden feeling of dread settles over me.

I'm so sure I just lost my job.