Page 123 of Desserts for Stressed People

“It does make sense.” I squeeze his arm, letting go quickly after. “I think it might have something to do with being afraid. You don’t want to be alone, so you’d rather have something. It’s still better than nothing, though it isn’t everything. But you owe it to yourself to aim for everything.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” he says unconvincingly as he studies his cup.

Silence settles, and I sip my coffee, turning my focus to the street. People walk around, crossing paths as they step onto the sidewalk, and I wonder how many of them experienced the affection that Alex and I felt for each other. There was a lot at the beginning, and in a way that makes me lucky. “Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all,” someone said at some point.

Slumping back in my chair, I open my mouth to ask about the million things we should figure out, but a shadow is cast over the small, round table between Alex and me. Turning to the right, I see Marina’s unfortunately familiar sneer. “Wow. Isn’t this wholesome.”

My brows furrow as her judgemental, catlike eyes scan me and Alex alike. “Hi, Marina. What—”

“Is this why you came to the sixth floor?” She crosses her arms, the dozen of bags in her hands wrinkling as they’re pushed against her flat stomach. “To get a break from your unimpressive existence and wreak havoc, only to go back to your farm-life boyfriend?”

With a sigh, I ask, “What’s your problem with me? Is it jealousy? Do you have a crush on Shane or something?”

She chuckles flatly. “Is that what you think? That I want to steal your ex-boyfriend?” Rolling her eyes, she turns her back to me. “Unbelievable.”

“Well, then, explain it to me.”

She seems to consider it for a moment as she halts, then turns around and lightly bends down, her freezing irises roaming over mine. “You want to know what my problem is, Fourth Floor?”

“Please.”

“Fine.” She sneers. “My life has beenmiserablefor the past five years. Shane was playing asshole boss before then already, butthat’swhen he really began giving his best.”

Five years? What is she talking about? I knew she wouldn’t be honest, but trying to blame her resentment on her shitty workplace, then suggest it’smyfault because I joined the company five years ago—well, that makes no sense. “If that’s the case, I suggest you bring this to Mr. Hassholm’s attention, because—”

“Then you show up, and he’s a fucking teenager.” Her mouth twists in disgust. “Smiling, whistling, flirting.” She points at Alex. “But you had to go and ruin it all.”

Throwing him a look, I shake my head. “He’s got nothing to do with Shane and me.”

“Like I give a shit, Fourth Floor,” she says as she turns to leave.

“It looks like you do, though.” I stand, waiting as she faces me. “After all, you let me in at the Dèvon party.” I challenge her. “Was it because you want us together so that he’ll be easier to work with?”

“No, no,” she says, her head slowly shaking. “I’m just a sucker for cringey couples. Don’t let the vomit squirting out of my eyeballs mislead you.”

Of course, she doesn’t have my back. I knew that already. But I’ll get the truth out of her. She’s fooled me for a while, but the night of the event, when I left, I saw the disappointment in her frown. That wasn’t discontent over her work situation—that was proper sadness.

“Well, now, calm down,” Alex says, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as he glares at Marina.

Moving my hand up, I stop him from interjecting. “All right. So what do you want from me?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“What do I want from you...” she mumbles. “I never want you on the sixth floor again, for starters. Leave Shane alone and let us live our miserable fucking lives because you and yourboyfriendcan’t separate work and your private business.”

Unimpressed, I nod. “Worry not, I have no intention of coming back.”

She studies me, and for a second, it looks like she’ll fall into my trap. Then she nods, visibly annoyed as her dark bob follows the light movement. “Great. Because he’s amess, and we don’t need you to come along and make it worse.”

Stifling a smile, I nod again. I knew she didn’t hate Shane as much as she let on. “Totally. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She looks away, as if deciding what to say, then settles her gaze on me again. “And unhappy. He’s basically depressed. He hasn’t smiled once since the Dèvon party and he’s killing himself with work.”

“Got it.”

With the veins of her neck nearly exploding and her lips puckering so hard they turn white, she mumbles, “Fucking straight people,” as she turns around. After a second of surprise, I call her name.

She stops, freezing me with her glare. “What?”

“Everybody on the sixth floor is scared of him, but you and I...” I grin. “We both know he’s got a beautiful heart. It’s just been broken a lot.”