She dipped her chin in a tight nod, pulling her hand from his. “Just doing my job.”
They watched one another for a long moment. Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. He finally took a deliberate step away from her. “Feel free to take the bathroom first,” he said, turning for his room.
“Shane?”
“Yeah?”
For a moment he thought she might come to him, but then she backed into her room. “Sweet dreams.”
“You, too,” he said. Because he couldn’t say it back.
He just couldn’t.
Chapter 37
It’d been two long weeks since the Townsend party.
Crickitt gave an award-worthy performance at work. Unaffected, easy-breezy, happy-go-lucky. Until she got home and nearly collapsed under the weight of the lies she had to tell herself to make it through a day.
She left work a few minutes before five o’clock each day to avoid running into Shane in the halls. She couldn’t risk being alone with him, but not because she was in danger of being seduced. Oh, no, quite the opposite. Shane borrowed a page out of Henry Townsend’s playbook. Rigid and professional, he rarely smiled or cracked an off-color joke. Nor did he lean casually on her door frame in the morning or sit on the corner of her desk and steal candy out of the crystal dish she filled for just that reason.
Instead, he debriefed her with the efficiency of an army general. Like this morning, when he’d popped his head through the door and said, “I’m going on vacation. E-mail the proposal for Mayfield Furniture over to Stephanie.” And when he wasn’t busy not giving her an ETA, he ignored her completely. Yesterday, she’d found herself alone with him in the break room, and Shane pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen as he walked by.
And here she thought he couldn’t hurt her worse than he already had.
She found herself wishing her parents hadn’t interrupted what she’d come to think of as “The Breakup Speech.” If Shane had dumped her that morning, maybe she would be on the road to recovery. Or on the road leading to the road to recovery. Anything would have been better than his pretending she was never anything more than the assistant across the hall.
Crickitt took off work Friday. She was particularly tender, as if the bruise on her heart had spread to her entire body. She’d uncorked a bottle of white wine and was arranging crackers on a plate when Sadie burst through her front door.
“I’m here!” she announced. “You call, I come. Oh, good, I’m starving.”
Sadie dove into the bowl of fresh strawberries, taking a juicy bite. “I’ve had such a rotten week,” she said, chewing. “Mickey Dodd completely stole an account out from underneath me. I worked with that customer for almost a whole month—”
Sadie stopped midsentence, and Crickitt met her eyes expectantly.
“You look awful.” Sadie dropped the green stem into the trash can.
“Thanks,” Crickitt grumbled, tipping the wine bottle over her glass. She splashed in an inch of liquid and drank it down in one swallow.
“I don’t mean awful. I mean you look like something’s wrong.” Sadie moved to the counter to stand in front of her. “I should probably know what it is since I’m your best friend. But I don’t. ’Cause I’m a selfish, shitty person.” She touched Crickitt’s arm. “What happened?”
Crickitt opened her mouth to explain, but a sob came out instead.
Sadie snatched the bottle from the counter and filled Crickitt’s glass to the top. Then she grabbed a second glass and corralled her into the living room.
An hour and a half later, two empty wine bottles sat on Crickitt’s coffee table. Sadie was at one corner of the sofa, knees to her chest, Crickitt at the other, legs folded beneath her. Crickitt had finished speaking at least thirty seconds ago.
Sadie had yet to comment, her mouth hanging open in stunned silence. Finally, she said, “That’s horrible.”
“I know.”
“How could his father blame him for an accident?”
“I know.” She’d felt the same disbelief when Lori told her.
“And to take the man in when he was dying?” Sadie shook her head. “Shane’s a better person than I am. He’s incredible.”
Tears burned Crickitt’s throat, but she managed a nod. The truth was the truth. Shane was incredible.
“Oh, honey,” Sadie said. “I didn’t mean that. He’s not incredible. If he was, he would have held on to you with both hands.”