The space I created between us is yawning wide.
“Dre said you’re meeting with Ryan. Everything okay?”
He leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “The court moved our date.” A beat. “It’s in two days.”
“Oh. That’s… soon.”
“Yeah.” He looks past me, just for a second. When his gaze returns, it’s all business. “We’ll prep this afternoon and tomorrow. It’s straightforward. It also means you’ll be getting out of our arrangement sooner than planned.”
Said so simply.
I nod because that’s what I’m supposed to do. This is what I keep insisting I want. A clean end. Though my heart does not get the memo. It lurches, knocking into all the places I’ve been guarding.
“Okay,” I manage. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Ryan and I have it handled,” he says, dismissive in the old Worth way, like when I first met him.
“Right.” I nod again, not knowing what else to do with my hands, my voice, my face. “Then I’ll, um, get back to work.”
“Do that.” He reaches for a folder. The conversation is over.
I turn for the door and pause with my hand on the handle. “Worth?”
He looks up.
“You’ll do right by Bri.”
For a moment, the control in his face cracks. I see the man who waited outside a conference room for me because he couldn’tnot. Then he nods once, the mask sliding back into place. “Thank you.”
I step out before I do something stupid, like cry.
There’s no one to blame for the cool edge in Worth’s voice but the woman who sharpened it.
Back at my desk, Seraya is finishing her call, eyes stormy. She mouthslaterand I nod, sinking into my chair like it might hold me together.
I open my laptop and start typing up my post-mortem notes while I try to remember that I asked for lines, for rules, for endings.
I got them. Now I have to live with them.
At the endof the day, I pack up slowly. When I finally sling my tote over my shoulder and head for the elevator, the light is still on in Worth’s office.
He doesn’t usually stay past five-thirty. At least he hasn’t in the past few months. He hates missing dinner with Bri.
Is it because of me?Logic says it’s the custody prep and a day swallowed by his lawyer. But my chest says I’m part of the reason.
I stand there for a second, arguing with myself before I finally sigh and knock.
“Come in,” he calls, voice rough.
He’s at his desk, expression strained, papers spread around him. He barely looks up.
“You’re still here,” I say gently.
He signs something. “Looks like it.”
“You should go home,” I try again. “Eat. Rest. Be with Bri. Let your lawyer handle the rest tomorrow.”
His pen stills.