Page 118 of Desserts for Stressed People

I cross my arms and roll my shoulders forward. “It doesn’t work for me.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” he asks, turning his palms up. “I’m your boss, and so is Billy. We make the decisions, whether or not you like it.”

“And what about ‘work is work’? I thought we were going to leave our personal lives out of this. Did that only apply to me? Or were youlying?”

He bolts up, pushing himself closer with a shark-like glare. “I thought you were a decent person. I thought we wouldn’t lie to each other, betray each other’s trust. I thought you understood it better than anyone.”

I straighten my back until there’s some space between us, and all the outrage I came in with is swept under the rug. All I feel is a deep, enveloping sadness. “Idounderstand it.”

“You knew how I felt about dishonesty, with what happened with my parents. You knew I needed you to be sincere, that I wanted to buildtrust. And you pretended to be someone else to...what? Spy on me? See if I was who I really said I was?”

“Shane, no,” I say, my tone softening with every word. “I created that profile to catch Alex cheating. I didn’t know who you were when we matched.”

“And why the hell did you match with me? Huh? If you were there for Alex?”

I groan. “I was drunk and—”

“Why didn’t you tell me after? Why did you continue?” he shouts, his words echoing in my silence.

He’s right. What can I say? He’s one hundred percent right. I should have come clean, and we probably would have laughed it off. We would have watchedBack to the Futuretogether.The Matrix,The Lord of the Rings,Men in Black. We would have eaten dessert and laughed and kissed, missing all the best parts of my favorite movies.

Bringing both hands to my face, I try to get the words out. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I whine, but I don’t know if he can even understand my muffled voice from behind my fingers.

“You’ve deceived me. You took the key to the most important place in my life, and you were lying to me. You made a fool of me in this office. You made me think that your nice ways were genuine, that you were a person—”

“They are! They are genuine. Iamgenuine,” I scream back, like on a broken swing between sadness and anger. “And you’re the worst catfish of us all. You pretend like you don’t care about your employees, about your family, about me. But you do. You pretend to be Mr. Asshole, who isn’t fazed by anything, but you aren’t!”

He glances behind me as we both catch our breath.

“Go work in Heaven’s office,” he shouts at Marina.

With a glare, she walks away, disappearing into the corridor.

“I’ve never pretended not to care about you, Heaven. And I won’t pretend that I do now.” Shane opens his drawer, his movements rushed and furious, then takes something and grabs my wrist, putting it onto my palm. “I brought you something. I treasured it as the gift of a friend. Something equally important as the key I gave her.”

I already know what it is. The cold, metal DeLorean presses on my palm, burning a hole through it.

His eyes stare into mine, holding me in place, showing me just how much he means what he’s about to say. And I know this will be the hit that kills me, the one that leaves me gasping for air. The one that’ll write the words “the end” into our intense but brief love story.

“I told you. You have the power to make your own future.” He smirks with no joy. “Well,Nevaeh, you made yours. Now go back to your floor, because you’re not wanted here anymore.”

He lets my wrist go and walks away, out of his office and out of sight.

Tears dripping down my cheeks and my key chain tight in my fist, I stand there, the pain so strong it’s physical.

It’s the hit that kills me.

* * *

“I don’t thinkI can go any farther,” the cab driver says as he glances at the crowd ahead.

“No, here’s perfect.” I force a smile on my lips as I pay and leave the car. Once I take in the surroundings, my stomach clenches.

Gorgeous-looking people, all somehow taller and skinnier than me, walk around in expensive and exuberant gowns and suits. The red carpet is surrounded by photographers and journalists on whichever side, and the villa behind it looks magnificent. The last time I was here was during the day, and now the decadent, beige façade is brightened by beams of light that aim for the sky. It’s breathtaking, which doesn’t help the constriction I already feel in my chest.

When my phone rings inside my clutch, I take it out and sigh.

Emma.