Chapter 44

44

DES

W hen I get back after seeing Alex's grandma, I can hear shouting as I climb the stairs up to the office. And when I step in through the door, people are on their feet looking appalled or worried, while others pretend to work, but still peer at the meltdown happening in the middle of the room over their screen.

"He called me a ‘piece of shit'!" Amy shouts at the top of her voice, standing next to where Rodrigo is sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

"Well, you're a piece of shit, you sexist pig," she says, leaning right into him.

Jo has her hand on Amy's arm and is pulling her away. "He said I was a slut!" Amy screams. "Just because he can't keep it in his pants."

Uh-oh.

Cath materializes at my elbow. "Someone's here to see you. He's been waiting a couple of hours." Following her gaze to the couch by the kitchen at the end of the long office, my jaw drops. Alex. His pant legs are hitched up, tattoo peeking out over the edge of his sock. That sharp suit of his is going to be the death of me. My throat swells. He's staring down at the floor, hands hanging between his knees and dark curls flopping over his forehead. But he glances up and his eyes meet mine and for several seconds everything fades away. Then he bites his lip, and I know it's not deliberate, but God help me, he's done that too many times when we've been making out, and my whole body goes tight. I give him a small smile.

"I'll deal with Rodrigo in two secs," I say to Cath. "If you can give Jo a hand and let me chat to Alex for a minute first."

As I walk through the desks, I realize Alex's skin is pale and his eyes are red-rimmed and my stomach sinks.

"Are you okay?" I say.

He shakes his head and stares out over the office, where Amy is still shouting abuse at Rodrigo.

"Look, I've got to sort this situation out." I gesture behind me.

His head drops as he nods. "I shouldn't have come. I'm probably the last person you want to see."

I step toward him, and he jumps a bit, but I take his arm.

"No, Alex." I swallow. "Cath said you'd been waiting a while. Let me deal with this asshole." I wave my hand at Rodrigo. "And then we'll talk. Just give me five minutes." I squeeze his forearm and he nods but won't meet my eyes. Dammit. Ruth was right to caution me about impossible standards.

Dipping down, I try to catch his eyes. "Wait for me, okay?" And he nods again.

I stride across the office. Jo and Amy are now nowhere to be seen. She must have finally got Amy out of here for a chat. Good.

"Rodrigo." I gesture toward the glass meeting room.

He scowls at me but pushes his chair back to stand and follows me into the room, door clanging shut behind him. Then he widens his legs and folds his arms over his chest.

"Would you like to explain to me what all that was about?" I say.

"Not really."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Well, I think you're going to need to, because the only other alternative is to suspend you."

"Be my guest. I have a lawyer."

Hmmm. Most employees don't have a lawyer conveniently tucked up their sleeve.

"You're still on probation here."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm reminding you of the terms of your contract and the procedures that will have to be gone through to resolve a matter like this where another member of staff has accused you of harassment. Probation means that …"

"I understand what probation is," he snarls.

With all the employment issues I've dealt with in the past year, I know that people like Rodrigo can bring a world of trouble. I should have listened to my gut when it told me we'd made a mistake that first day at the briefing. Why do people have to be assholes?

"Besides"—he waves a hand around—"she came on to me. Always these young girls think they can get away with accusing people and you will buckle. I am a happily married man." He puffs out his chest, and I'm struck by an irresistible urge to giggle. Is he insane? What pills are these people taking?

But hang on, always these young girls ? There's been more than one?

"In what way did she come on to you?"

"She is always wearing short skirts and low-cut tops. Every day she leans over my desk and I can see right down to her lacy bra. Every day ."

Oh my God.

"She's working with you on the project. I don't think …"

"And then, after she keeps doing this, when I corner her and put my hand up her skirt, she shouts at me and calls me an asshole. It was a clear invitation, no?"

Jesus, poor Amy.

"What a woman wears is up to her, her choice. It doesn't mean she's wearing those clothes to suggest anything to you. It's not an invitation. It's crazy that I have to say this at all, Rodrigo."

He snorts. "What would you understand about women and what they do." He waves his hand down my body. Jesus, why the hell am I standing here discussing this and not talking to Alex already?

"I'm terminating your employment as of today. We'll pay your outstanding salary for the rest of the month. If you could clear your desk immediately and …"

"You are taking her side?" he says, his accent getting more pronounced as his voice rises to a shout.

"It's not a question of sides. I don't think things are working out here, do you, Rodrigo?" I say.

"But it is not right that this should happen so soon …"

So soon, hunh? Interesting choice of words.

"You cannot do this with no warning! I have a wife and children, and …"

Walking toward the door, I say, "It's best if we terminate your employment now. There have been several incidents with your work here, and I think for your sake and the sake of the company, we should all move on."

He opens his mouth, but I open the glass door and head out. I am not spending one more minute on this man when Alex is waiting for me. But when I head toward the seating area, the sofa is empty.

"Where's Alex?" I ask Cath.

"Oh!" She looks up. "He's gone?"

A girl with a desk by the door raises her head. "The cute guy in the sharp suit? He just left," she says.

A hot flush races across my skin. He shook his head when I asked him if he was okay. Goddammit, what's happened?

"How long ago?"

She shrugs. "About five minutes?"

Damn, Alex . I shoot out the door, fumbling with my phone as I take the stairs three at a time almost plummeting headlong down the last flight. In that time he could be anywhere. I press his number on my screen and listen to it ring and ring. Pick up, Alex. Pick up . Why did you come here and then leave?

Hanging up, I crash through the door to the street and look frantically up and down like I could spot him somehow. God, he looked bad, his eyes … He looked crushed. Shit. Have I crushed him? Is it me? It's always me. I've been ignoring his calls and messages. He'd just come out, and I didn't even allow him one little wobble. I'm such an idiot. Nana's words ring in my head. If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself. I press his number again. Why did I waste time talking to Rodrigo? At the corner of the street, I scan the traffic, the people, phone pressed to my ear. Come on, Alex, pick up goddammit. Why am I just standing here?

I stare around wildly, and as my eyes alight on the coffee shop on the sidewalk I remember the place we've spent a dozen lunches in over the last two months. Sweetgreen . Would he go there? He could be heading back to work or Great Neck, anything. Fuck. Alex, pick up. The rings echo in my head like the distant sound of sirens. Plan, I need a plan.

I hang up and gaze down at my phone, and as it swims in and out of focus I suck in a deep breath. Concentrate. What are his options here aside from going home or to his office? His grandma's? What about other friends? He said he stayed with people in the city sometimes but I haven't met any of them: I might be able to reach out to them on Facebook. Okay . Go to the café first, Des, it's two blocks away. Then his work, then call Mrs. S and get his parents' address. You can message people on the way.

I scroll to Jo's phone number, and she picks up as I'm heading across the crosswalk.

"Hey, Des."

"Hey, I've stepped out for a sec. That guy I told you about, Alex, dropped into the office and seemed distressed and now he's disappeared so I'm going to try and find him."

"Oh really? That doesn't sound good. Is it serious?"

"I have no idea, but I'm worried about him."

"No problem. You need anything covered?"

"No. I fired Rodrigo, though."

She laughs. "Don't worry, we are hearing all about it. James is overseeing him packing up his desk. He's complaining at the top of his voice about the injustice of it all."

"Yeah, I'm so sorry, Jo. I …"

"You made the right call. Don't worry about it. You were right about him. He didn't even try to fit in, and this stuff with Amy …" She blows out a long breath.

"He groped her. You might need to deal with that with her," I say.

"Yeah. Apparently, he put his hand up her skirt," she says.

"He told me something similar."

"Can you write it all down when you get back to the office?"

I squint up at the puffy white clouds in the sky. Ironically, it's one of those hot but beautiful July days in New York. "No worries. I can remember what he said."

"Good luck, Des. I hope you find Alex." She hangs up.

Over the next two blocks, I spend the time searching Facebook contacts connected to Alex, and end up messaging him directly through the app on the off chance he'll see it. Why isn't he picking up my calls and texts? The sun warms my head and bounces off the buildings, and sweat breaks out as I trot along the sidewalk. The sign for Sweetgreen looms in the distance.

As I reach the building and peer through the plate-glass window, a familiar dark-haired guy is paying at the counter. Thank God. Thank God. My breath heaves like I've been hit by a truck.

I wrench open the door. "Alex!" I say, and he swings around. Something in me melts when I see his face.

"Des!" His smile is more of a grimace. "Do you want a coffee?"

Then I'm in front of him, hand pressed to my shirt over my thumping heart. Christ, my cardio skills are abysmal. "You disappeared. I thought, I thought …" It all comes out in a jumbled gasp.

He tilts his head at me and smiles, and it's so sweet and so Alex, that I just step into his body and place my mouth on his.

"Des," he groans against my lips.

And I haven't kissed him in so long that I can't help myself turning it from a lip touch into a full-on smooch. Someone coughs behind me, and I lurch back and run my hand over my hair, dazed as my eyes skip over the glass counter.

"Are you okay?" he says.

I shake my head, sawing in another sharp breath. "You disappeared from the office. Are you mad at me?" I say. Jesus! Of course he is! "I'm sorry I left you sitting there. I'm sorry I didn't return your calls. I'm sorry about everything."

He puts his hand on my arm. "Calm down, it's okay."

Another deep inhale, and my racing pulse starts to ease. "Why did you come to my work?"

Leaning over, he grabs our coffees and gestures to a seat in the window.

Once we're settled, my eyes scan over his pale face and the flat line of his full mouth. Oh, God. Is this the conversation where he dumps me for good? That would need a face-to-face, right? Perhaps he's been trying to do this for days.

"I didn't know where else to go."

Well, that wasn't what I was expecting. "That's never a good start to a conversation, Alex. What happened?"

"I've been fired. There might even be an investigation"—he swallows—"by the FBI."

"Woah! What? The FBI! What the hell for?"

He shakes his head. "The details are all a bit murky, but East River Capital Markets took a position in ForceX."

"Oh shit! They were in your report. They've just filed for bankruptcy."

He blinks at me. "I mean I wrote that analysis and …"

"But surely they can't hold you responsible for … My God, it was me who told you to look at them!"

Wrapping his arms around his body, he says, "God knows what East River is going to do. They're looking for scapegoats, as they always do in these situations. Christ, I hope none of it rebounds on you." Tears fill his eyes. "They confiscated my phone and my laptop. I had nowhere else to turn. I'm sorry if I'm imposing, you haven't been answering my calls, and …"

Jesus. I reach over the table and take his hand.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I'm sorry I haven't called you back." Cars are streaming over the intersection as I squeeze his fingers. "I saw some pictures on Facebook."

"Pictures? What pictures?"

"Of you and a girl. Your sister posted them, I think."

"Amalia?" He slides his hand up his face. "Oh God, now I understand! Hannah said she was my girlfriend or some such nonsense, didn't she? Shit. Shit." He tips his head back and grimaces at the ceiling. "Nothing is going on with Amalia, I promise you. In fact, it was terrible." He bites his lip. "I'm not even there anymore."

"Where?"

"At my parents' house."

Shock burns through me. He's left? "Where are you living?"

"I moved in with Nana."

"What? When?"

"Yesterday."

So he was already living there when I went to see his grandma today? Woah! Mrs. S is a crafty old bird: I didn't think she was hiding something so significant. But I guess she wanted to pump me for information, judge for herself how committed I am to her grandson. "I've just been to see her for lunch," I say.

"What? Why? "

"She called and asked me." I shake my head. "Let's come back to that. Tell me what happened with this girl."

"My parents invited this family around, the Silvermans, for dinner. My dad works with Mr. Silverman. It turned out Mom and Dad had already had a conversation with them, and they were setting me up with their daughter Amalia. They sat us together. They wanted to sweep everything I said about who I was under the carpet. Amalia has a place at Princeton to study law, and they were going to persuade her to give it up if I felt that she was a good fit for me … All that effort and hard work to get in. It's insane. I told Mom it was like being in the 1950s."

His face contorts into a thundercloud, and it makes me choke on a laugh. "When I told Mom I was gay and that was never going to change, she told me not be so silly. But I called Amalia and came out to her, too." He hooks a finger through mine.

"I've had a tough couple of days, too," I say. I want to get this all out on the table.

"I know I …"

He stops when I hold up a hand.

"To be so quickly dropped … One minute we were two happy dudes living together and the next minute I was forgotten. It's been hard to believe you feel anything for me. You were there and then suddenly you were gone."

"Des. Des. No. " A long groan escapes him. "Oh God , going back home was such a mistake. What was I thinking?" His gaze lands on the counter where people are queuing to buy salads. "Maybe I did take it all for granted. I moved in and everything felt perfect. You supported me so well and we dropped into this cool rhythm of life, you know? I loved it."

I do know, I felt the exact same thing. When I open my mouth, he barrels on.

"You always appear so robust to me, so experienced at all this." He waves a hand. "I assumed you'd be fine giving me the time and space to sort things out with my parents. God, that sounds so na?ve when I say it out loud. I didn't think for one minute …"

My eyes roam the soft curls of his hair, the shadow on his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes.

"… that I was risking anything."

Flexing his shoulders, he sits up straighter. "But I can see how it looked from your point of view, and I didn't say the best things to you." His mouth turns down. "I'm so sorry, Des."

His eyes flick between mine and the hurt and anger starts to slip away, being replaced by … what? … overwhelming fondness . But I need to explain things to him, too:

"I've always been on slippery ground with guys. Trust has never come easily in my relationships, but with you it was different. I trusted you, so quickly. Yet these past few days have shown me how new we are, and that I haven't felt solid in this relationship at all," I say.

He's staring at me.

"How is that possible? You're so confident, Des. You should feel solid. You're amazing. How can you …? I would be the luckiest guy in the world to have you as my partner. Being with you is perfect."

My whole body lights on fire as my throat tightens. I turn back to the window, blinking rapidly. He squeezes my fingers.

"Des?"

I nod, looking down at the table. I am not going to cry .

"I'd do anything for you, Des."

Fuck, I wasn't expecting this today, after everything.

"I love you," he says.

I can't stop it now: The tears leak out of my eyes and Alex brings a warm hand up to swipe across my cheek as I give him a wobbly smile. My heart is back to thumping like it's going to explode out of my chest. I've never said those words to another guy, and somehow I can't bring them up and out of my mouth now. I nod and nod and nod as my throat gets tighter and tighter and more and more tears seep out.

Alex's eyes are swimming, too. "You don't have to say it back," he whispers, shifting forward in his seat to clasp both my hands in his. "It's crazy and too soon and everything, but just let me …"

"I love you too," I whisper.

His face softens as his lips part, and I curl my fingers around his as he stretches across the table and presses his mouth to mine.

"I can't believe you said that to me," he says, drawing back. "I feel …" He stares down at our joined hands. "… like I might explode or something. You've always seemed like this incredible person to me, with this amazing, glamorous life and I'm some guy sitting in a cube writing documents. Well, at least I was until this morning."

I cry-laugh at this.

"You're an idiot, Mr. Sachs. You're not that at all."

"Did you really just say you love me?" He bites his lip, eyes all watery, then gazes around Sweetgreen. "This is going to be my favorite place forever."

And it makes me laugh, but I flap my hand at him. Distraction is vital or I will soak their lovely wooden tables with a river of tears.

"We haven't talked about your work problem," I sniff out.

He grins and squints at his cup of coffee, his smile getting wider and wider, the creases in his cheeks deepening, his eyes shining behind his glasses.

"Somehow it doesn't seem so important anymore."

"What are you going to do?"

"No idea, but the first thing I need to do is find a lawyer."

I nod. "My sister's a lawyer. Not in employment law but I'm sure she would know someone. We've got company lawyers, too. Let's go back to the office and talk to Jo."

As we stand, he pulls me into a hug. "Thank you," he whispers into my neck.

"For what?"

"Everything. Helping me come out, being you, wanting this …" His voice cracks.

My hand grips his waist. "You too." I pull back. "You're an amazing guy, Alex."

I snag his hand as we leave, and he wraps his fingers through mine. The sunny day doesn't seem so incongruous now.

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling how incredible it is to walk around holding hands, having not felt I could do it for the longest time," he says as we stroll up the street toward the office.

And he gives my hand a little squeeze, so I tighten my fingers around his, warmth seeping from the surface of my skin down into my body and my bones.

When we arrive back, there's no sign of Rodrigo and everything appears calm. But Jo is grinning at me, so I weave through the desks toward her, watching her eyes widen as she spots Alex hovering behind me.

"Is this your friend Alex?" she says.

"Boyfriend," I say, with a grin as her eyebrows rise. "Alex, meet Jo and James."

Alex catches my eye, and a small smile twitches his mouth. I pull up a chair for him and scoot mine around to their side of the desk.

"Alex has a bit of a problem." I take them through the situation with his work. "Do you think our lawyers might be able to help?"

Jo nods. "Definitely, Des. They'll be all over something like this. They're the ones Janus uses, so, as you can imagine, they're Rottweilers. Let me contact them."

In five minutes, we are on a conference call in the meeting room.

The lawyers want all sorts of information from Alex, and, as he talks to them, I start to understand the extent of the problem. Of course, he doesn't have anything the lawyers need—it's all locked up on computers and phones.

"I might have a signed copy of my employment contract," he says, staring at me and making a face. "But I haven't got the document I wrote."

"Can you recall …?" he starts, just as I say:

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"I've got it."

"You've got what?"

"The report," I say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "You emailed it to me for a read-through, remember?"

His face lights up. "Oh yes! Yes, I did. It's not the finished thing or anything, but it was close …"

"That's terrific news. Did you comment on it, Desmond?" the lawyer asks.

Oh shiittt . "Yes, I gave him some detailed input. Is that bad?"

"Not at all. It means Alex got an outside expert opinion from someone in the industry," the lawyer says.

"Does that mean anything I said …?" I start.

"No. It's good for demonstrating Alex's document wasn't produced with the aim of defrauding anyone, and he made best efforts to ensure that what was in it was true to the utmost of his ability. They would have to show malicious intent to have a case against you here, Alex, and it sounds to me like you're on pretty solid ground. We need to write to them and demonstrate this and clarify a few things. I suspect they'll back off fairly quickly. Did they tell you what your grounds for dismissal were?"

"No. They just kept asking me questions about the document. Where I'd got the information from, that sort of thing."

"And did you answer them?"

"Yes, absolutely. They talked about confidentiality a lot." Alex clears his throat and closes his eyes. "I take a lot of photographs. There's some of myself and my boyfriend on my phone that would probably be viewed as inappropriate."

Oh fuck.

"Was your phone provided by your work?" the lawyer says.

"No, it's mine. But obviously I deal with work messages on it and …"

"It depends on the contract you signed when you joined. Employers don't generally have the right to look at personal data on your phone, but if you can find your employment contract, that would be helpful."

"Doesn't sound like they've followed any kind of procedure here," I hear another voice say on the other end of the line.

"Hmm, yes. That's good."

"It's good they didn't follow a procedure?" Alex says.

"No matter how grave the charge is, Alex, they still have to act in accordance with the law, and implement a specific process, especially in cases of gross misconduct. There's robust laws around employee rights and dismissal. Of course, if it was a question of you just being laid off, then it would be a different situation, but that doesn't seem to be the case here. They're accusing you. Is your previous record with them satisfactory?"

"I would have said so, but …"

"Have any problems been raised with you before by the company?"

"No."

"Okay, that's good."

"I think this is quite simple," the other voice murmurs.

"And did they say anything about next steps?"

"Just that I'd receive a letter from their lawyers. That was pretty scary."

"Threatening behavior?" the second voice says.

"Probably not, but we can work that angle," the lawyer says. "The first thing we need to do Alex is find out the grounds for dismissal. The potential lack of a proper process here might give you a case against them, but we'll write to them and ask for clarification on some of the main points and see where that gets us in the first instance. As I said, I suspect they will back off fairly quickly, given what you've told us and once they know you have a lawyer on your side of the table. I'd like to try and get you compensation of some sort. I think you've got good grounds for PILON and severance pay as well, and we might be able to get something else from them in light of how they've treated you so far."

"PILON?"

"Ah, sorry. Payment in lieu of notice."

The other voice comes back. "I think you've got very little to worry about here."