When Sparks Fly

“Oh my God.” Harley slaps her hand over her mouth.

“It’s the icing on the shit cake, you know? I don’t even think he realized it was jealousy at the time, and what does that say about his ability to have a healthy relationship? We’ve been friends for years, he knows me better than anyone, and he still jumped to conclusions without giving me a chance to explain.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “I knew there would be conflict. And I get that no relationship can survive without turbulence, but if there’s anything I can count on, it’s Declan’s ability to sabotage relationships as soon as there’s the slightest threat of it getting too serious or the possibility of getting hurt, and that’s exactly what happened.”

“Maybe he needs some time to think things through.” Harley flips her pencil between her fingers, back and forth.

“Maybe.” I don’t want to believe that this is the end for us, but I also don’t know how to navigate this new path, especially since now we seem to be traveling in different directions. “He was so angry, and so ready to accuse and believe the worst.”

“Maybe it was just the shock of it all. When was the last time you actually spoke to Sam? It’s been years,” London offers.

I blow out a breath. “I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, so yeah, it’s been a long time. Maybe I should have handled it differently. The timing was just . . bad. I would have ignored that email, but Go Green wasn’t budging. Maybe we need a few days to cool down.”

“Why don’t you stay with us while you let the dust settle?” London suggests.

“I figured I could stay in one of the hotel rooms here. Besides, you don’t have a spare room.”

“Actually, we do now.” London taps on the arm of her chair, gaze shifting away.

“Since when?”

“Since about two weeks after the accident. I wanted to have a space in case you needed it, so we converted the office. It’s still partly an office, but it has a double bed and a dresser. And it’s yours as long as you need it.” She offers me a small, sad smile. “I know I haven’t been very open to you and Declan being together, but know that I didn’t want this to happen either. Maybe all you need is a little time and perspective.”

“Maybe.” I want to believe that she’s right, but the ache in my heart is hard to ignore.

The opportunity to create a new business partnership is overshadowed by the upheaval in my life. I don’t know if working with Sam is even worth it. Not when I’m facing this kind of heartbreak. And that’s exactly what this is. Ironic that it happens to be connected to Sam once again. Declan has made no attempt at contact even though I’ve texted him and left him several voicemails. Mark and Jerome haven’t heard from him either, which worries me.

On day four, I have to stop by the condo to grab some more of my things. I’m half hopeful, half scared that Declan will be there. I want to talk things through, but I worry that based on his silence, it’s not going to go well. London and Harley offer to come with me, for moral support, but I decline.

I need to deal with Declan without an audience, which will only get his back up even more. I don’t bother to message or call before I go, unsure if giving him a heads-up will make him run.

When I step inside the front door, I’m greeted by laughter and cheers, some of them coming from the TV, some of them not. For a moment my chest constricts, thinking that maybe the guys are here and hanging out, and that they lied to me.

Except it’s not the guys who are over. It’s some of Declan’s friends from work, including two women. Declan’s still wearing his dress shirt and dress pants, tie loosened, and the top button undone. He’s seated in the middle of the couch. A guy I’ve met a couple of times before but whose name currently escapes me takes up the spot to his left, and on the right is a woman in a pencil skirt. Her makeup is perfectly applied, lipstick still in place, and she’s drinking wine. Out of my favorite glass. She’s probably also drinking my wine if I had to guess.

All of the throw pillows are gone and the quilt I love to curl up under is also missing.

His expression shifts and goes carefully blank. An awkward silence settles around us and the rest of the unfortunate witnesses in the room.

He takes a swig from his beer and the guy to his left glances between us. The woman on his right shifts, crossing her legs so her foot is no longer at risk of touching his leg.