I nod. “Yeah, I’m better now. No good reason to relapse.”
“Block his number. But only if you’re sure.”
Ouch. Why haven’t I already done that?
I blocked Jay’s first number fast. Why can’t I bring myself to block Lincoln?
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Why?”
I go quiet, taking a long pull from my coffee. Even vanilla sweetness won’t bring easy answers.
“You’re not ready for it to be over, but you won’t listen to him either,” she says. “You’re living in this weird grey zone of maybes. You can block him and be done with it, or you can let him run his mouth for a whole year of Regis rolls. That’s not a bad payoff.”
“Says you,” I throw back, side-eyeing her.
“I’ll say this—if you keep holding your breath for every text, you’ll keep being miserable. You’re not giving yourself the chance to move on, but you’re also not ready for the final word.”
Damn her logic.
I slurp my coffee, pondering her words.
“What would you do?” I ask when I set down my cup.
“Hmm, well...I’m not sure. But I’d probably give the dude a chance to explain, if only for those rolls. Dead serious.” She grins again. “I’m too emotional to stay firm like you, and I don’t like being miserable when there’s a glimmer of hope.”
“But what if it’s false hope? What if it’s just another chance for him to break my heart again?”
“I can’t say because I’ve never met the guy. It’s hard to give you advice, but I’d probably take a crack at heartbreak to help ease the pain.”
“You know how you said you’re not sure you’re strong enough to ignore the texts?” I ask.
She nods.
“I’m not sure I’m strong enough to give him a second chance to burn me.”
“Only you can decide,” she says with an empathetic look.
“God, you’re right. This is bad, Eliza. You’d think I’d have learned not to trust men after being stood up in a wedding dress. Maybe I’m just not as smart as I like to think I am.”
“Don’t let Jay make you distrust all men. You had no clue Lincoln would hulk out after acting like he cared. You can’t blame yourself.”
“He got emotional over cinnamon rolls. Big red flag,” I remind her.
“You know now why he needed them, though. For his friend, right? That makes it slightly less crazy...”
“You’re not helping. I need reasons to hate this man.” Yes, I’m whining, and I don’t care.
Eliza laughs. “Why?”
“Every time he texts me, I try to remember why I hate him. It’s how I keep myself from responding.”
“If you have to convince yourself not to respond...I think you know what that means,” she says firmly.
“Sure. I’m playing with fire and we know how that ends, too. One day, I just hope I can despise Lincoln Burns enough so it doesn’t even matter.”
I go into my—well, Anna’s office—early the next morning.
I have to run numbers for another meeting guaranteed to put me to sleep.
I’m not expecting a flash of excitement when I see the cup of coffee and a Regis roll on my desk.
What the what?
Whose sick joke is this? I’ve made it pretty clear I’m done with anything that involves masses of cinnamon, sugar, and heartbreaking beast-men.
But the dark roast with a big dab of caramel makes my stomach growl like a cougar. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, so what’s the harm?
Then again...I stare down into the cup and notice something off.
Do we have a new intern? Who leaves coffee with no lid next to a computer?
I answer that question before I take a single sip.
The words Sorry, Nevermore swirl around a heart in white foam.
Jesus. I don’t even know how he got the cream to stay like that long enough to be readable unless they made the drink right here in the building?
And now he’s taken to dicking with my coffee? Really?
My stomach gurgles again impatiently.
Whatever. It’s caffeine and sugar and I gulp down a mouthful.
It’s warm, sweet, and delicious, never mind who it’s from.
I sit down and start peeling back the first layer of the Regis roll with the fork next to it. But apparently, breakfast is full of surprises.
Lincoln’s office is edged in the dough.
Dear God. He’s here?
And Lincoln’s office is technically Jane’s now. So much for Eliza’s theory about being cornered at work.
I won’t go. He can’t make me.
If he wanted to talk to me this badly, he’d come here and face me. He knows where to find me.
I get through all of ten minutes working, reviewing slides for that presentation, when I get a call from the COO’s office. I pick up my desk phone, expecting Anna.
“Hello?”
“Dakota, can you come down to Lincoln’s office?” a smooth voice asks.
“Jane? Where are you?”
My heart skips a beat at the phrase Lincoln’s office.
She sighs. “Back in my old office today. It’s...well, you’ll see.”
“What’s this about?” I ask faintly.