I manage a smile. “You're family.”
Having Tiff and Ella is right, but the house still feels wrong without Honey in it.
I check my phone one more time.
One New Message.
But it’s not from her.
I start to wonder if I’ll ever see a message from her again.
The mirrored elevator doors aren’t doing me any favors. My puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, and red, raw nose stare back at me. I look like I decided to sleep in a ditch and still come into work today. Honestly, it sounds more fun than what I did. I should’ve stayed under the covers. Should’ve shut out the world and let myself wallow in my own misery for another few hours instead of going to Jenni’s and facing the harsh reality of my life.
But is that any better? Lying alone would mean thinking, and thinking pulls me straight into Jenni. Chris. Zach… the ring. The look on his face when I walked away.
I've lost everything in the last twenty-four hours. My only friend here wasn't a friend at all—she was my stalker, systematically destroying me for months while I thought she cared. And Zach... I pushed away the one person who actually loved me because I don't even know who I am anymore.
My breath hitches just thinking about last night. The ring. His face when I walked away. The hollow feeling that's been growing inside me since we got to college.
Jenni was right about one thing: I'm not strong enough for his life. I can barely handle my own.
My phone buzzes in my bag, but I don't bother to look this time. I can't handle leaving another message from Zach unanswered.
Ding!
The elevator doors open and I square my shoulders, desperately attempting to pull myself together. Calling in sick this morning wasn’t an option, so I have to force myself to hold it together. I can’t let anyone here know that I’m two seconds away from breaking into a thousand pieces.
The floor is quiet as I psych myself up.
I can do this.
I can sit at my desk and be useful.
Then the voices start. Angry whispers from the boardroom that get louder with every step I take.
It's Jonathan.
Jamie's father is here even though my father promised I wouldn’t have to see him again.
At first I flinch, regretting coming here, but what am I supposed to do now?
“You think she could be good leadership material?” he sneers, his voice loud enough for all the associates to hear. “She’s weak. Pathetic, really. Always crying over boys instead of focusing on what’s important. Do you know what you get when you hirewith your emotions? The market doesn’t care about feelings. Investors don’t write checks to women who faint at the first sign of difficulty. They write checks to people who grind, who execute, who don’t crumble when a rumor drops.”
I take a sharp breath.
Pathetic. Crying over boys. Faint at the first sign of difficulty.
It’s me. He’s talking about me.
I take a couple of steps back, knocking into someone’s desk.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
That’s when I see every head on the floor turn. I’m met with horrified, and gleeful faces. They’re just waiting for me to crack.
“Do you want a leader who blubbers through bad press? This isn’t a sorority. This is a business. We don’t have time for theatrics and hang-ups. We need Jamie, nother.”
My father mumbles a response, but it’s too low for me to hear.