Scott hated failure. Hated it. He’d spent his entire life doing everything he could to avoid dealing with it, which meant he’d never really learned how to handle it. Failure had been such a rare thing in his life. Oh, sure, there’d been the broken engagement to Sharon, but that had been easy enough to wave off. Maybe because he’d never really considered that failure his fault. Sharon had demanded too much from him, made it impossible for them to continue. She might have been the one to officially call it off, but he would have done so eventually if she hadn’t. So he’d always told himself that had all been more of a misstep than a failure. Still, it had left a few scars, along with more determination than ever to avoid future potential failures at all costs.
He’d been so confident that he’d minimized all the risks with Tess. That he’d looked at every angle, foreseen every potential problem, dodged any complications. With the experienced skill of a successful entrepreneur, he’d presented his case, brought her on board with his plan, followed a step-by-step progression from first date to engagement, a path that should have continued on to the cozy little wedding and a couple of kids to fill those empty upstairs bedrooms. He’d pretty much won over her sister, and his family had all but adopted Tess. The staff at work seemed okay with their arrangement, so that potential complication had been avoided. He’d done everything right. She’d said so herself.
But still he’d hurt her, the one thing he had vowed from the start not to do. He’d lost her as a fiancée, as a friend, even as an office manager. He hadn’t just failed, he had failed spectacularly.
On Saturday, two days after Christmas—a month after he’d come up with that so-called brilliant idea—he sat in his empty office staring at a phone that wasn’t ringing, looking at a doorway no one would be walking through today. The job sites were idle, his business associates all busy with their holidays, so there was nothing to distract him from his glum thoughts.
He hadn’t broken the news to his family yet. He’d managed to avoid calls and respond to texts in brief, nonspecific replies, so they probably thought he and Tess were utilizing the time off to celebrate their engagement. Which was exactly what they should be doing, had it not all fallen apart.
He shoved himself to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. He didn’t know what he was looking for when he wandered into the lobby. Everything was as tidy as they’d left it at early closing time on Wednesday. The garland and other decorations still hung in place. He’d always thought there was something forlorn about Christmas decorations hanging around after the holiday passed. Today was no different. The tree sat in the corner, lights off because he hadn’t wanted them on. Tess had been sitting right there under that tree when his brainstorm had hit.
The door to her office was open. Her desk was clean, organized. He tried to picture Damaris sitting there, or some other future employee. His brain just couldn’t process it. Tess was the only one who’d ever sat at that desk. How could he ever find anyone to replace her? Here—or in the rest of his life?
Why would he want to replace her?
He could go on, he told himself. He could put it behind him. Shake off this misstep and focus on what he was good at. His business. He didn’t need a wife he’d probably just neglect, or kids he didn’t have time for anyway.
For Tess and the kids they’d have made together, he’d have made time.
He thought of the upcoming Kilgo job, the new Best Burger restaurants on the long-term plan, the apartment complexes and strip malls and other construction jobs waiting to be bid on and won and implemented. Maybe he’d get back his enthusiasm for the projects before long, once he figured out how to tackle them without Tess at his side.
Maybe he just had to get through that stages-of-loss thing. He’d already dealt with shock and denial. He was still struggling with bouts of anger.
What the hell more had she wanted from him? He’d offered her his home, his business, his family, his future. What more could he have given her?
I needed to know that losing me would break your heart.
There wouldn’t have been any need for heartache if she’d just gone along with the plan. She’d said she wanted the future he’d outlined, the same things he desired. Why had it mattered so much to her to hear the words, the things so many people said and didn’t really mean? How many of his friends had tumbled into love, rhapsodized about their undying devotion to their new someones, thrown themselves headfirst into fairy-tale weddings, only to end up angry and disillusioned, bitter and resentful? Words held no guarantees. Actions were what counted. And he’d been prepared to follow through on all his promises.
I fell head over heels in love with you, Scott. I’ve probably been in love with you for six years. Isn’t that pathetic?
What was more pathetic? The one who confessed love—or the one who was too cowardly to surrender to it?
I deserve better than that.
Yes. You do. You deserve everything you want.
He’d meant what he’d said. He wanted her to be happy. She did deserve it. He was sure there were plenty of men who’d be more than willing to offer Tess everything he had held back. Men who would think they’d just won the lottery of a lifetime if they were lucky enough to earn Tess Miller’s love. Scott doubted that the boring Glenn was the only other man smart enough to figure out what a treasure she was. And choosy as she was, she would find someone worthy of her someday. Maybe someday soon. And then he’d have lost her forever. That stupid plan of his would have cost him everything. More than he’d even known he’d placed at risk.
He leaned his throbbing head against the doorjamb of her office and pressed a hand to his aching chest. He’d never had his heart broken before, so he didn’t know what that felt like. He suspected it felt a hell of a lot like this.
“You didn’t turn on the security system. Don’t you know just anyone could break in?”
He froze, his wounded heart clenching in his chest. And then he turned, very slowly, wondering if he’d only imagined her voice because he’d wanted so badly to hear it.
But no. She was here, standing in front of him looking a little pale, a little worn, but her chin held high and her shoulders square. Tess might have been hurt by his stupidity, but she would spring back to her feet. She was a survivor. He suspected she was a hell of a lot stronger than he.
“Why are you here?”
“I thought I’d start cleaning out my desk,” she said quietly, dashing his hopes that she’d come to find him. “It’s not something I want to do in front of the staff.”
“You’re really quitting.”
She nodded. “I think it’s best.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. It won’t be easy for you to replace me,” she said with a frank shrug. “But you’ll manage.”