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“Exactly,” Angela says, putting her own mug under the coffee machine. “He looked at you just now like a man trying very hard not to want something that isn’t his to want.”
My stomach does a little flip. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” she challenges.
“I don’t -” My voice trails off as heat spreads across my cheeks.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
Before I can respond, Marcus reappears in the doorway, his eyes scanning the counter.
“Sorry,” he says. “Forgot my -”
“Marcus! Just the man I need!” Carter’s voice interrupts as he strides in behind him, iPad tucked under his arm.
Either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the tension in the room, he claps Marcus on the shoulder.
My entire body tenses. Carter looks perfectly put-together today – crisp shirt, neatly styled hair, not a hint of his Friday night disaster. The fuckingaudacity.
Marcus stiffens slightly at Carter’s hand, his eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting away.
“I need your input on these mock-ups before the call,” Carter says. His smile is easy, casual, like he didn’t completely humiliate himself – and me – two nights ago.
I glance at Angelawho’s hiding a smirk behind her coffee mug.
Marcus retrieves his phone from the counter, his movements precise as he glances at his watch. “I’ve got five minutes before my next meeting,” he says, professional as ever.
“Perfect. That’s all I need. Hey, thanks again by the way, for helping us out on Friday. I still feel like death warmed over. Thank God for coffee, right?”
I glare at him, my eyes burning laser holes through his very soul.
Marcus watches this exchange, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment, it looks like he might say something – his lips part slightly, his brow furrows – but then he looks at his watch instead.
“Four minutes,” he says to Carter, his voice neutral.
“Right, come on, I’ll walk with you.” Carter holds up his iPad and leads the way out of the kitchen.
Just before they disappear from view, Marcus glances back. Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second – long enough for a flicker of something raw to pass between us – and then he’s gone.
Angela sips her coffee. “Well that was fucking awkward.”
I slump against the counter. “I’m going to kill Carter.”
“Or,” she says, stirring her drink, “you could just tell Marcus the truth.”
Chapter 9
APRIL 2024
I’m standing in the empty living room, keys dangling from my fingers. Sunlight streams through the uncovered windows, painting golden rectangles across the worn hardwood floor. My floor. My walls. My space.
“I can’t believe it’s actually mine,” I whisper into the still air, turning in a slow circle.
By most standards, it’s nothing spectacular. A one-bedroom on the fourth floor of a converted Victorian mill, with plumbing that occasionally groans and a kitchen barely big enough for a half-sized refrigerator. But to me, after nearly two years of being crammed into a shoebox where my ‘bedroom’ was more like a closet, this modest space feels like a palace.
I walk to the window and gaze down at the quiet street below. In my own little sliver of Manchester, I can see a small grocery store with fresh fruit outside, and a corner coffee shop which reminds me of the one by the office.
My phone buzzes in my hand, snapping me back to the present. It’s a text from Angela.