But the moment is cut short when Adrianna throws open the door to my office. It ricochets loudly off the stopper on the wall, making Margot jump and turn her attention to the human tornado that is quickly approaching my desk.
“Joan from the apparel department is on the phone,” Adrianna announces, ignoring Margot completely. “It’s an emergency. Something about another shipment of capri pants.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. Across the desk, Margot’s shoulders rise and fall in quiet laughter. She peels her eyes away from Adrianna and glances at me, her expression a mix of commiseration and amusement.
“Well, I’ll let you deal with that,” Margot says, standing to leave.
Adrianna seems truly surprised by the presence of another person in the room, as if Margot just teleported and appearedright in front of her out of thin air. I’m not sure if Adrianna is willfully ignorant or just completely clueless, but her contract is up at the end of this week and that cannot come soon enough.
“I’ll see you next week,” I say to Margot as she turns to leave.
She looks back, flashing me a smile as unrestrained as my heart feels right now, and says, “Looking forward to it.”
33
Margot
My new office is perfect. I put my box of desktop tchotchkes on the table and look out the window. Denver hums below, all crisp autumn air and changing leaves. A bird hops onto a branch and sends a few leaves fluttering down.
It’s still only the second-best view I’ve ever had.
My old office was just a desk in an alcove, but all I had to do was turn my head slightly to see Ethan through the big glass wall. It was a perk I didn’t take full advantage of when I should have.
I was too busy planning out a life with Jeremy that never came to be. Budgeting for a future that didn’t fit, imagining a wedding I didn’t really want, picturing the house and kids I would’ve had to take care of by myself if Jeremy and I ended up together.
That feels like it’s so far in the past that the details are hazy.
Realistically though, it was only a few short months before my breakup with Ethan, and I remembereverythingabout him. About us. About the future I told myself not to consider with him but dreamed of anyway.
I still want it.
I still want him.
I feel it every time we’re together, that connection between us that’s only grown stronger, even in his absence. Taking this job means spending more time together, and I think that’s what we need. To find our footing again. To become friends again before we can become something more. To rebuild the trust that was broken.
I’ve heard the whole story about Ethan and Rachel. Emma told me everything, and I thought about it for weeks, turning over the details, trying to make sense of the situation and empathize with Ethan’s actions. And I do empathize. I get why he never mentioned it, even if I don’t agree with his choice. But most importantly, I forgive him. Ethan has given me the time I need to heal. He’s done exactly what I asked. All that’s left now is to see where this leads us.
The sharp rap of knuckles on my wide-open office door makes me spin around. Ethan is standing there, smiling and looking as tempting as ever in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and gray slacks.
“Just wanted to stop and see how you like your new office,” he says.
“It’s amazing.”
He takes a few steps into the room, joining me near the side of the desk. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he holds his closed fist out to me. “I brought you an office-warming gift.”
I quirk a curious eyebrow at him. “What is it?”
He opens his hand to reveal a small orange rectangle—a gum eraser, just like the one I had when we first met.
“Is that-?” I ask.
Ethan nods, and we both start laughing. It was an eraser just like this that started it all—our first laugh, our first inside joke, our joint aversion to the wordcheese. I reach out and take theeraser from his hand, savoring the tiny jolt of electricity that shoots through me when we touch.
“You know this is a choking hazard, right?” I say, mostly to ease the tension.
He laughs again, quieter this time. “Only for Tim, and he’s long gone.”
The look we exchange is playful and easy. But deep in my chest, comfort tangles with a low, insistent ache. A longing that’s becoming harder to ignore every day.