I need out of the goddamn room so I can think clearly.
No, I need her out of my goddamn company. This is not sustainable.
The moment I get to my office, I call the one person who might be able to fix this situation.
“Look who remembered how to use a phone,” Harrison says as he picks up. “You finally ready to file for divorce?”
We’ve been friends for more than half my life, which means I get to ignore half of what he says. It’s possible I ignore more than half. “No, I was wondering if you’re hiring. I’ve got a temp employee. She’s doing good work, but only here for a few more weeks. I thought you might have an opening. Something in the business office or human resources?”
“Caleb,” he says with a laugh, “I’m at a firm of thirty people and you’ve got a company with what—five hundred? I think if one of us has the flexibility to make a position for someone, it’s you. I’m sure as hell not hiring some chick you’re desperate to be rid of.”
“I’m not desperate to be rid of her,” I lie. “She doesn’t do anything we need.”
“Again, if she doesn’t have a single skill you can find a use for at an enormous company, what skill is she going to have that we can use? You don’t want her and you’re trying to pawn her off on me. Unless this is about your hot neighbor.”
“What?”
He laughs. “We all know. Mark told Liam.”
Fuck. The fact that Lucie works at my company is something I really wanted to keep to myself. “Look, she’s a hard worker. It’s just...uncomfortable.”
“Maybe,” he says, “uncomfortable is exactly what you need.”
I groan after I’ve hung up. I’m going to have to sign off on her walking program, and at the rate she’s going, I’ll never be rid of her.
Even I don’t understand why I find that prospect so harrowing.
7
LUCIE
I can’t believe he called Molly’s gorgeous software ‘shit.’
I can’t believe he’s turned out to be such a dick.
I can’t believe how badly this day is going.
It’s after lunch when the bank manager finally returns my multiple calls, and the first words out of her mouth are, “I’m not sure I can help, since this is between you and your husband.”
“Have you asked him to reinstate the funds?” she continues, as if Jeremy took the money by accident.
“I’m confused,” I reply through clenched teeth. “You’re telling me that if someone hacks into my checking account—I didn’t give him the password, he just guessed—there’s nothing you can do? How is that possibly legal?”
“You created an account with us off your original account, which he’s still on,” she says. “I’d change my password if I were you.”
I have one credit card in my name, acquired in college—if I can even find it. My entire adult life was held in Jeremy’s tight fists, and he turned it to dust in the blink of an eye. I’ll have to cancel the appointment with the lawyer, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself. Scorpions sting—that’s what they do. I was the moron who thought the scorpion wouldn’t sting if his kids were involved.
I hang up and spin around to find Caleb standing there, eating up the entire opening of the cubicle, tugging at the knot of his tie. I don’t care how pretty he is, how stressed he looks...I’m not about to forgive him for this morning. Molly’s software was fucking amazing, and he had no right—
“Let me guess,” he says, “you used your children’s names and birthdates for your password.”
I’ve been wondering why his wife is still away—maybe she just needed a break from his bad attitude. I’ve been here five days and I need one myself.
I sigh. “You know, the polite thing to do here isn’t to accurately guess the stupid thing I did.”
“This might come as a shock to you, but polite is not a term often used to describe me. Do you, uh, need an advance on your salary?”
I stare at him with my mouth ajar. You don’t offer an advance to someone who isn’t staying. “Why would you offer that when you’re desperately hoping to be rid of me?”
He rubs his eyes. “We’re approving the software. That’s what I came down here to tell you. And I know you won’t have results by next Friday, but Mark thought it might be a good idea if you came to the interview, to discuss it.” He frowns, hesitating for one long, drawn-out breath. “Lucie, it’s not about you, okay? You’ve been doing a really good job.”
My eyes sting. It’s been a long time since someone said I’d done anything right. Do not fucking cry in front of him, Lucie. Do not.
It must be obvious, despite my efforts. His eyes widen and there’s concern there before he turns away. “You’ve had a rough week,” he says as he leaves. “Go home and get some sleep.”
That sweetness is still there, under everything, that sweetness from another life.
I wonder why he seems so miserable in this one.
I don’t leave early, as he suggested, because if he needs results as soon as possible, I need to get going now.
I open the email I’d already drafted explaining the walking program to the entire company. I look it over one last time, and my hand shakes as I hit send. It still seems impossible that anyone trusts me to write five-hundred employees at once.
I’d planned to leave soon afterward, but I’m immediately deluged with responses. There’s a lot of sniping about the software and whining about the guy on the fourth floor who runs marathons, but there are also compliments and emails simply saying, ‘thanks.’
A woman from HR comes to my cubicle to give me other ideas she has for TSG. People call to clarify the prize structure. Kayleigh even puts down her phone long enough to bitch about Wyatt, the marathoner, as I walk past.
The work day is nearly over by the time I’ve had a second to breathe and discover new texts from Jeremy waiting.
JEREMY
Did you manage to drop the twins at school on time for once?
Should I send over some multivitamins? God knows they must need it with the meals you serve.
He’s just angry that his little stunt with the checking account didn’t provoke a response and lashing out, but I deflate regardless, the way I always have when he criticizes me.
Because he’s right. Yes, we’ve been late to school. Yes, I’ve made crappy meals. And those things are probably true of every parent, at some point, but I’ve never had much perspective. He was six years older and already a success when he walked into the restaurant where I was waiting tables. He thought my youth and na?veté were “cute” at first. He loved that I didn’t know how to pronounce “tapas” or use a corkscrew, that I’d never been on an airplane and couldn’t ski. But that all that changed once we were married. Suddenly, the things I didn’t know or couldn’t do well were flaws. He was eager to point out the ways I was failing—at home, in public, as a mother, in bed. I was a worthless failure, nothing more, and it was hard to argue when I had no proof to the contrary, when there were no voices around but his.
Today, though, there are. Caleb said I’d done a good job, and people are excited about a program I created. Even if it’s temporary, even if I ultimately fail, I deserve better than to live in an echo chamber of Jeremy’s criticism. The three of us might not get the fairy tale, but we at least deserve better than we’ve had.
I haven’t cancelled the lawyer yet, and I’m not going to. I’ll put what I can on the old credit card and apply for new ones to cover the rest. Whatever it takes to get free of Jeremy…it’s worth it.