Page 110 of Forty, Flirty & Framed

The line goes dead.

I look up to find Karina watching me, her pecan-colored irises lowering before lifting once again.

"This will blow over," she says."I'll release a statement taking full responsibility.I'll resign if that's what you want."

The offer hangs between us, sincere but wholly inadequate against the tsunami of consequences we're facing.

"It's not that simple," I say, running a hand through my hair."This isn't just about your job.It's about?—"

I'm interrupted by the office intercom again."Mr.Abernathy, there's a delivery for you," Alana announces.

"At two in the morning?"I demand.

"The courier was quite insistent.He said, um…he said it's from the 'Official Kilted Casanova Fan Club of Greater Seattle.'"

Karina's eyes widen."You have a fan club?"

"Apparently."I sigh."Send it in."

The door opens to reveal a courier bearing what can only be described as a bereavement basket.

Black and purple ribbons adorn an arrangement of thistles, heather, and what appears to be miniature bottles of Scotch.

A tartan teddy bear wearing a tiny kilt sits proudly in the center.

"Delivery for Mr.Abernathy," the courier announces, setting the monstrosity on my desk."Sign here, please."

I scrawl my signature, desperate to get this over with.

"Sorry about your heartbreak, man," the courier says, glancing between Karina and me with undisguised curiosity."My girlfriend cried for like an hour when she saw the news.Said it was like watching her parents divorce."

"We're not—" I begin.

"The internet ships you guys hard," he continues, oblivious to my murderous expression."There's already fanfiction about your reconciliation.Really steamy stuff."

"That will be all," I say through gritted teeth.

The courier finally takes the hint and leaves.

I stare at the basket for way too long.

"There's a card," Karina points out, her voice strangled.

I pluck it from amidst the thistles and read aloud: "'Scotland Stands With You In These Difficult Times.#KiltNation.'"

"This is insane," she murmurs.

"This," I say, tossing the card onto my desk, "is exactly why trust is so important in this industry.Everything is public.Everything has consequences.Your deception doesn't just affect you or me—it affects everyone associated with Abernathy Corp."

"I know," she says quietly."And I'm truly sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix this.”My jaw clenches."Nothing does."

We stand in silence for a long moment, the absurd sympathy basket between us serving as a physical manifestation of how thoroughly our private pain has become public spectacle.

"What now?"she finally asks.

"Now?"I lean against my desk, the fight draining out of me."Now you go home, Karina.When you come in tomorrow, HR will be waiting.We'll handle this as professionally as possible."