Though we hadn’t said it outright, I’d gone to bed knowing that the way our conversation had ended probably meant the end of our short-lived relationship. Even if Donovan intended to continue our sex-only situation, there was no way I could. I’d already fallen so hard. It already hurt so much to let him go. I couldn’t risk getting any more entangled if he wouldn’t give me anything in return.
In the morning light, however, I found clarity. While he’d been resolute in his conviction to not let anyone in, it was possible that Donovan could change his mind. I was pretty sure we’d already grown into something more than he’d intended, and now that he’d heard me—now that someone had finally told him that he didn’t need to keep punishing himself for Amanda’s death—maybe he could start to get over it. Things change. People change. I was mature enough to know that. After all, I’d been determined not to let him in my panties when I’d first started at Reach, and look how long that lasted.
Just.
I couldn’t wait for him to come around. I could hope, but I needed to be ready to move on.
Today was not that day.
When I did finally make it into work, I spent the day locked in my own office putting together summary reports for SummiTech. What better way to nurse a broken heart than to throw myself into work? Plus it was a surefire way to not bump into Donovan in the hall.
Late in the afternoon, though, I had to venture out to get Weston’s approval on a project and it required a physical signature.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, seemingly distracted as he flipped through the pages of the proposal, and two different people walked into his office to set things on his desk before he’d finished perusing it.
“It looks good,” he said finally, signing his name on the designated pages. “Can you email a copy of the projected expenses to Audra?”
“I already sent it to Barrett.” Barrett held a similar position as me, only he oversaw Operations and Finances. He reported to Donovan. “Is this a procedural change?”
“Just for the time being. We’re still trying to figure out how to reshuffle duties. I’m taking most of the load, as you can see.” Another employee walked in with a stack of mail and set it on Weston’s desk and then hurried back out. “But I’ll be out for the wedding and the honeymoon soon so I can’t take all of Donovan’s tasks.”
I was about to tease him for the millionth time about taking a real honeymoon for a fake wedding, but then I registered the rest of what he’d said.
My throat suddenly felt tight. “What do you mean? Why are you taking Donovan’s tasks?”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Oh, that’s right. You missed the meeting this morning. I announced everything then. Donovan left for France today.”
I could feel the color drain from my face even though my heart was all of a sudden working overtime. “What? Why?”
“To take care of the merger with Dyson Media. With the wedding approaching, he decided he should be there to make sure everything happened smoothly. I mean, he just decided last night that he has to be the one to go, and that it has to be now. He must have sensed a change in the economic winds or something.”
“Just decided last night,” I repeated, my stomach knotting. He’d left because of me. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Then he wasn’t going to give us a chance.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “How long will he be gone?”
Weston ran a hand through his hair. “Depends. He might just stay to handle the merger, which could be a month, two months? Or he might stay longer if he thinks that’s necessary. He has to read the situation when he gets there.”
He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I’m guessing that means things aren’t going well between the two of you?”
I turned my head and stared out the transparent walls of his office so he wouldn’t see my lip tremble. “There isn’t anything between the two of us.”
“Come on, Bri. Don’t give me that bullshit. That’s coming from Donovan, not you.”
A day ago I’d have agreed. Even that morning I might have confessed more of the situation to Weston. But that was when I still had hope that something might change. That was before I knew for sure that Donovan had no interest at all in working anything out.
I met Weston’s eyes and said sincerely, “It’s the same answer coming from both of us.”
Standing up, I gathered the reports I’d brought in and headed out of the office. Before I got out the door, though, my curiosity got the better of me. “Weston, when Amanda died, did Donovan ever say he blamed himself for her accident?”
He tilted his head, thinking. “No. Not that I remember. Did he say that to you?”
I shrugged. “I think it was just survivor’s guilt.” It was pointless to wonder about this further. “But…” As pointless as it was, I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Did he ever mention working with a P.I. back then?”
“He had a P.I. look into the accident?” Weston asked, misunderstanding me.
I didn’t bother to correct him. I was already sharing too much of Donovan’s secrets. “Something like that.”
“Never told me anything about it.”
I nodded. It was my cue to go.
Except I didn’t go. I took another step toward Weston. “If I wanted to try to talk to the detective…” Maybe if I saw the report myself. Or if I talked to the guy that he had hired, I could better understand why Donovan blamed himself.
It was stupid.
Because even if I could find the detective—unlikely since I had no name to go on and it had been more than eleven years since he’d been hired—and even if he could shed light on the accident, what did I think I’d do after that? Fly to France and demand that Donovan give a real relationship a chance?
Laughing silently at myself, I dismissed the idea. “Never mind. This is an impossible task. I don’t know why I’m asking.”
I started to leave again, but Weston stopped me. “You know, if Donovan did ever hire a P.I., he’d have hard copy records. He’s funny about the Internet with that kind of stuff. Hacking and privacy and all that. Which is why he uses more cabinet space than anyone in the building. It’s annoying as fuck.”
Ah, something else I didn’t know about Donovan. There was so much I didn’t know. Why I ever thought we’d be a good fit was beyond me.
I forced a smile anyway.
“Point is, I don’t know if he’d have anything that far back, but you could check his files. Let me get you a code to his office.”
It was useless—I’d already determined that.
But what if it wasn’t? What if there was something to find?
I waffled for several seconds. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to overstep.”
Weston winked. “If he didn’t want me to use it, he shouldn’t have given me his code.”
Weston was right—Donovan did have more cabinets than anyone else in the building. But it didn’t take me long to realize that most of them contained standard documents for the office, so I didn’t spend much time perusing them.
It was the two-drawer cabinet behind his desk that interested me because it was locked.
“I don’t suppose you have a key to the small file cabinet?” I asked Weston when he answered his phone.