45. Violet

Chapter 45

Violet

My new job at Creative Reach is a stark contrast from my old job in Chicago. At Affinity, it was much more corporate and cold, whereas everyone in this office is relaxed and friendly. It’s an environment that truly lets creativity thrive, which is amazing.

But the biggest difference? There’s no Elijah here, and no one to undercut or undermine me. And even though it’s only been a couple of days I’ve been on the job, everyone here has taken my ideas seriously from the start. I’m supposed to have a brainstorming session with Michelle and a few other members of the team today, and I was up late last night putting together ideas for it.

I got to the office early so that I could make sure my presentation was all in order, and I’m just finishing up my double-check of everything when I hear the office door opening and someone coming inside. I get up to meet whoever it is and find Michelle carrying two armfuls of stuff with her.

“Do you need help?” I call down the hall on my way to her.

“Oh, good morning. You scared me a little,” she says with a laugh. “I’m usually the first one here. But sure, I could use a hand. Thanks.”

I hurry to her side and hold the door open for her so she can get inside, then take a heavy bag from her and follow her to her office. We set everything down on her desk and she smiles at me as she straightens out her clothes. “Thanks again. Oh, in case you’re wondering what all of this is, I brought some materials for the brainstorming sesh today. It’s always a little more fun when we aren’t just throwing ideas out into the air.”

I don’t really know what that means until she opens the bag I just put down and pulls out a bunch of brightly colored construction paper. I smile at her despite the twinge in my chest, and she chuckles.

“I know, I know, it’s kind of giving kindergarten vibes, but it’s fun.”

“No, it’s not that. This kind of thing just reminds me of a little boy I used to babysit.”

“Aw. Did you do a lot of crafts and stuff with him?”

“Yeah, he loved it. Um, can I help you get this stuff set up?” I ask to change the subject because the corners of my eyes are already burning, and I’m sure I won’t be able to keep from crying if she asks me more about Jake.

“Sure, thanks. Let’s take it all to the conference room,” Michelle says and mercifully doesn’t press the subject. Together, we set up little kits at the seats for everyone who’s attending, including a couple sheets of the construction paper, a marker, and a pad of sticky notes. By the time we’re finished, the rest of the team has gotten to the office, so Michelle calls them in and starts the session.

It really should start to feel normal by now, but I’m still shocked that every time I suggest something, it lands. And people are building off my suggestions, running with them like I’ve been here for years. In a lot of ways, even though I’ve only been in the office for a few days, I already feel like I’m supposed to be here.

After the meeting, I help Michelle clean up all the materials, and she flags me down to hold me back as everyone else goes to their offices to get started on the project we just mapped out. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” I say, despite the racing in my heart.

“Don’t panic, it’s a good thing,” she says with a smile, clearly picking up on my apprehension. “We have this new client we just signed, and I was wondering if you could take it on. They’re a little thorny and particular, but it could be a great opportunity for you to cut your teeth on. Based on your resume, I know you have a lot of experience with these kinds of campaigns, so I want to see what you can do.”

I’m a little intimidated by the offer, but the feeling is overridden by excitement at her confidence in me. I can handle this.

“What do you say? It’s yours if you want it.”

“I’ll do it,” I say, and Michelle beams.

“You’re gonna do great, I know it. I’ll email you the details later this afternoon. It’ll probably be more of a self-guided project, but obviously I’m happy to help or offer any feedback if you need it.”

“I really appreciate the offer.”

“Hey, we hired you for a reason. As soon as this client came across my desk, you were the first one to come to mind. It’s perfect for you and your portfolio.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur, and even though I’ve had a great day, when I finally leave the office, I’m relieved to get a break from all the hustle and bustle and have some time to myself. But I can’t stop myself from checking my phone for the details of this special project that Michelle emailed me as I walk back to my car.

It’s exciting stuff, but even so, with every step I take away from the Creative Reach offices, the nagging sense of loneliness I’ve been feeling since I moved claws at me again like it’s been waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

I’ve been so busy today that I haven’t had a lot of time to think about it, but as I’m unlocking the car and climbing in, it hits me all at once that I’m about to go back to my empty apartment. Every night I spend alone there makes it feel even emptier, like somehow when I close my eyes to sleep, something else I can’t put my finger on goes missing overnight.

A sigh escapes me as I sit in the car debating for a second whether I even want to go home or if I should wander around town just to keep my mood up. I close my eyes because they’re burning again and I don’t want to be seen crying in the work parking lot, but the pain in my chest isn’t letting up. After the great news I got today, I should be riding high about how things are going and how Michelle picked me personally for a tricky client.

But not even that is enough to dull the heartache that I’m starting to think is never going to go away.

Frustrated, I start the car and drive home in silence. Thankfully, I still don’t know the route very well so I have to pay enough attention that my mind can’t wander to anything else. But the lump in my throat returns as soon as I pull into the parking lot at my apartment complex.

I carry my things inside, and the silence that greets me is louder even than the roar of traffic in the distance. I can’t stand it, so I turn on the speaker I put on the counter and connect my phone to it to play some music. Anything is better than the emptiness.

My eyes dance around the apartment looking for a project—something, anything —to occupy my mind, but I’ve already unpacked everything and decorated. There isn’t anything left to do.

Defeated, I sink down into one of the stools at the built-in bar in the kitchen with my phone in one hand. My thumb hovers over my photos app, but I resist the urge to open it. Taking a trip down memory lane right now probably isn’t going to lead to anything good, but I can’t resist. The first thing I see is Jake’s smiling face smeared with chocolate ice cream, and my chest clenches immediately. There must be at least a few hundred pictures I took of him over the few months I was his nanny, and I realize as I scroll through them all that there are probably more pictures of him on here than there are of me.

My thumb gives the screen a lazy flick, but my attention drifts off to the sliding glass door and the ocean beyond it while memories reel through my mind like a movie. And when I glance back at my phone, my chest tightens further at what’s waiting for me. It’s a picture of Sawyer and me, one of the few we took together because we were trying to be discreet. We’re sitting on his couch together, having one of our midnight snack conversations. I’m holding up a spoonful of something, my mouth full, and Sawyer’s smirking in the background doing the same thing.

What I wouldn’t give to have him here for that right now.

My eyes flick to the couch in the living room, expecting to find him there, but of course it’s empty. Driven by themselves, my fingers navigate over to my text thread with him. I know I shouldn’t be doing it, but I’ve been re-reading our messages every night before bed since I left Denver. It’s silly, but it helps me feel like he’s still here with me, like the whole thing wasn’t just some dream. And the last thing I said to him proves it wasn’t.

ME: Just made it to my new place. Everything went smoothly. Thank you again for the help—all of it.

He reacted to the message with a heart and left it at that. Neither of us has texted the other since then, and as much as I wish we could, I know why we haven’t. It would only make this separation harder and torment both of us with what we can’t have, so what’s the point? Better to just let things be and move on.

But not tonight. I’m feeling too sad, missing him way too much, to stop myself. My fingers fly across the keyboard to type out a message, but every time I finish it, I delete it in a hurry and mentally berate myself for even thinking about doing it. Still, it only takes a few seconds for my fingers to start typing again.

ME: I miss you. Is it supposed to be this hard?

I tap send before I can talk myself out of it, and my heart hammers in my chest as I stare at the screen wondering what the hell I just did. Almost immediately, the message switches over to “read,” and my stomach flutters wildly. But the indicator that he’s typing a response never shows up, and my heart sinks.

Maybe I shouldn’t have sent it. He probably just wants a clean break, because he knows how hard it would be to keep talking. I stare down at my phone, trying to decide what to do. I wish I could unsend the message, but that’s not an option. Should I say something else? Should I just let it go?

I almost jump out of my skin when I hear a knock on my door.

My brows draw together. I’m not expecting company, since no one besides the people at the office know me here, but I get up quickly to see who it is anyway, in case it’s a package getting delivered or something.

I pad to the door and swing it open—and then nearly drop my phone as shock ricochets through me.

“Sawyer?” I whisper, butterflies exploding in my belly.

“I miss you too,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp.

Then he steps forward and kisses me.