I exhale heavily. We did the business, fair and square.
Fucked it to hell and back, actually.
So why does it still feel unfinished? I have this haunting feeling that it isn’t over. But then I know it is.
Tristan Miles is lingering in my soul . . . and the bastard won’t leave.
He was supposed to be my get-out-of-grief card, my comeback into society.
What he was, was an intoxicating drug and an addiction that I don’t need.
So now, instead of one man lingering, I have two.
My beautiful husband, Wade, the one I planned a life with . . . the one whose wishes I’m honoring.
And then there’s Tristan, the gorgeous soul-sucking bastard from New York . . . who has a fun, tender side underneath.
But does he really?
Does he have a tender side, or is that just who he pretends to be when he’s alone with a woman? Was that all a plot to get under my guard?
It worked, if it was.
The man I spent time with was beautiful.
I drag my hand down my face. I’m sick of this. Why the hell am I always the one who suffers?
If the truth be known, Tristan is probably in bed with another woman right now.
She’d be blonde and beautiful and would be able to be spontaneous and fun.
“Give it back,” Harry snaps, interrupting my thoughts as he snatches a puzzle piece from Fletcher.
I look around at my chaotic surroundings, and I know that Tristan doesn’t belong here in my world. He will never belong here. This is as far from his reality as he could possibly be.
My stomach twists at the thought.
I get a vision of the two of us rolling around in the sheets, laughing and making love.
The tenderness between us felt so real and intimate.
Did it mean anything to him at all?
I turn the page of my book . . . obviously not.
“I think that just about wraps it up,” Michael, our lead accountant, says as he looks up from his spreadsheets.
I smile, optimistic for the first time in a while. “That’s great; thank you.”
“As long as we keep gaining traction on the advertising, we should be able to pull out of this.”
“I agree.” I look around at the board members. “Thank you all so much for pulling together and working through the issues. Your advice is so appreciated.”
“We’ll get through this.” Michael smiles. “It’s just a rough patch.”
“I know.” I nod. “Thanks again.”
The group of ten stands, and we chatter as we leave. They wait for me to lock up our office, and we make our way downstairs in the elevator together.